Shadow Dweller 02 - Retribution.pdf - Ravyn Wilde - SilverWitch

Retribution

Shadow Dwellers: Book Two

J.C. Wilder

ISBN 1-55316-072-X

Published by LTDBooks

www.ltdbooks.com

Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.

Cover Art by Emily Black

Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON

L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com]

means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent

of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

Wilder, J. C., 1965-

Retribution [computer file]

ISBN 1-55316-072-X (electronic) ISBN 1-55316-930-1 (REB 100 1200)

I. Title.

PS3623.I45R48 2001 813'.6 C2001-902071-6

Dedication

If you are truly blessed, someone will enter your life

and demonstrate that courage, strength and dignity are

more than just words in the dictionary.

This one's for you Daddy.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following people, without whose support

there would be no J. C. Wilder.

Carol - Your friendship and wisdom mean more to me than

you will ever know.

Julia - For saying "You Can" every time I say, "I can't."

Debbie - For listening to me blather about vampires, were-cats

and witches...oh my!

To the Ladies of the Keep - may the Moet always be chilled,

may the bonbons always be Godiva, and may the DB's

Chapter 1

Current day - London, England

Conor MacNaughten gripped his partner's generous hips as he thrust into her. Her magnificent breasts,

highlighted by the harsh noonday sun, jiggled with his movements and with each thrust an excited cry

broke from her lips. Damp blonde hair obscured her features as she dug at the tangled sheets with

red-tipped claws. The scent of sex filled the air.

Catherine had the best breasts he'd seen in years, at least for breasts that were organically grown. Large

and pert with coral shaded aureoles and distended nipples, these beauties were a feast for a starving

man. And Conor MacNaughten considered himself a starving man. His hips never slowing, he leaned

forward, took a firm nipple into his mouth and suckled deeply.

A hoarse cry emerged from Catherine's mouth as she bucked wildly beneath him. She reached for him

and fisted her hands in his hair. He nipped at her breast, leaving a tiny love bite before lavishing attention

on the other as he continued his slow thrusts. Rolling his hips easily as he slipped into her moist heat, he

felt the faint tingling in the back of his calves that signaled his approaching orgasm.

"Conor...."

Mac paused, stifling a groan. While her body was any seventeen-year-old's wet dream, her voice was a

definite problem. Shrill and somewhat whiny, it was the voice of a petulant five-year-old, not a mature,

sexually adventurous woman. And he definitely was not in the mood to listen to it now. It had been over

three weeks since he last had sex and he had some lost time to make up.

Without as so much as a "by your leave," he withdrew from her damp heat, and gathered the scattered

pillows from the floor. As he bent over, his medallion swung forward on its fine gold chain and hit him on

the nose. Impatiently, he tossed it over his shoulder and continued his task, piling the pillows on the bed.

Grabbing her by her waist, he then rolled her over onto the pyramid of silk so that her generous backside

now pointed upward.

"What are you...."

He cut her off by gently pushing her face down into the sheets, angling her backside even higher and

exposing her glistening inner flesh. He thrust deep inside her once again and her muffled squeal of delight

emanated from the bedcovers. Taking a firm grip on her hips, Mac settled himself in for a leisurely ride.

Current Day - South of Manchester, England

Terror and rage warred within Jennifer Beaumont's soul as she entered the sprawling house. Rage was

winning the battle.

The massive front door slammed with a heavy thud as she kicked it shut. Her Italian leather pumps

clicked sharply on the marble floor as she barreled toward the double doors of the library. She tossed

her purse in the direction of the glass-topped table in the center of the foyer, where it glanced off the

towering vase of pink and white gladioli. The arrangement tottered dangerously before righting itself.

"Damn his miserable hide," she swore as she wrenched the brass doorknob downward. She hit the oak

door with the palm of her hand, slamming it backward into the wall with a crash, destroying the cozy

scene inside.

The vampire Mikhail stood before the fireplace watching her entrance with an indulgent smile. Hundreds

of years ago, she'd thought Mikhail a handsome man. At six feet in height, every inch of it lean-muscled,

he cut a striking figure. His pale gold hair was shorn just beneath his ears and neatly combed back to

reveal a narrow face with exquisite cheekbones, sharp nose and a full mouth. With his impeccably cut

black leather pants that accentuated his strong runner's legs and his flowing white silk shirt, he resembled

a golden pirate of old. It was only when she looked into his eyes that she could see his one flaw.

He had no soul. His icy blue eyes reflected only emptiness.

"Damn your black heart, Mikhail," Jennifer ground out. "You've gone too far this time."

He laughed gently and held his arms out as if he expected a welcoming hug. "Darling Jennifer, is this

anyway to greet your master?"

Jennifer could barely control the rage that flared as he spoke. She wanted to scream until the fine crystal

of the chandelier shattered, raining down on them in piercing shards. She wished to tear him limb from

limb, scattering the pieces to the ends of the earth. She wanted to personally escort his black soul to the

very gates of hell.

Calling upon her infamous iron will, she restrained herself. Throwing a fit in front of Mikhail would

accomplish very little. Indeed, it would only give him the upper hand.

"What have you done?" she bit out.

Mikhail's smiled smoothly, his movements fluid as he picked up a squat Baccarat crystal glass filled with

a thick red liquid. Jennifer caught the scent of chilled blood, like cold wet pennies, as he slowly swirled

the glass.

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, Jennifer," he purred. Never taking his eyes from hers, he took

a sip of the liquid. Jennifer masked her revulsion as he swallowed.

Mikhail's smile broadened as he licked his lips and tipped his head slightly in her direction. "Is this an

example of your legendary manners, Jennifer? You storm into my home, damage my library wall and so

rudely ignore my guest." With one slim, pale hand, he gestured to the woman seated on the couch. "Your

mother would be ashamed of you."

Ignoring his jibe, Jennifer's lip curled as she turned to see Gabrielle DesNoir. Gabrielle's brilliant blue

eyes gleamed in stark contrast to the whiteness of her long hair and pale skin. Her full lips were painted a

shiny blood red. Her finely honed body was clad in a white leather bustier dress, with matching silk

stockings and four-inch pumps.

All in all, she was a perfect advertisement for an ice princess from hell.

Gabrielle was well known and not particularly well liked in most vampire circles. Her appeal lay in the

fact that her lover, Mikhail, was one of the most powerful vampires on the planet. Very few immortals

dared to say no to him. Gabrielle was a young vampire, only about a hundred years old and still learning.

With Mikhail as her mentor, she was far more advanced than the average century-old vampire. She was

also known for her lack of scruples, which made her the perfect partner for him.

Jennifer inclined her head in Gabrielle's direction. "Gaby," she acknowledged, knowing how the other

woman detested the shortening of her name.

" Chère Jennifer, so lovely to see you again." Gabrielle's voice was thick with a French accent that

Jennifer knew to be as false as her current hair color.

Jennifer turned back to Mikhail. "Where is she?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He braced his shoulder against the ornate fireplace mantel.

His eyes gleamed with the golden glow from the leaping fire. He reminded her of a sleek jungle cat

readying to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. While he might decide to make her his next victim, she

wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Who's missing?" His expression was bemused.

"Miranda of Glencoe."

Jennifer didn't miss the spark of satisfaction that flared in his eyes before he feigned surprise. "Really?

Miranda is missing? How dreadful. My love," he addressed Gabrielle, "when was the last time we saw

Miranda?"

Gabrielle rose from the couch with her unearthly grace and moved toward her lover. "Well, I think it may

have been a few years, at least. Maybe it was at Kitty Von Helgen's birthday party? She'd just turned

371 though she doesn't look a day over 40." She reached Mikhail's side and took the glass from him,

then turned to Jennifer. "I don't remember seeing you at that party. Weren't you invited?" She took a

drink, her sharp eyes watching Jennifer over the rim of the glass.

Jennifer struggled keep her expression impassive. "I hope the next time I see Kitty Von Helgen it will be

to spit upon her rotting corpse," she spoke evenly. Ignoring Gabrielle's start of surprise, she turned her

attention back to Mikhail. His icy eyes were amused. "You've gone too far this time, Mikhail," she

warned.

"Dearest Jennifer, you wound me." He placed a slim hand over his heart as if her words had dealt him a

mortal blow.

"How can I wound someone who is not human?" She glanced from Mikhail's amused gaze to Gabrielle's

self-satisfied one. They were presenting a united front. Maybe now was a good time to put a crease into

it. A little dissension in the enemy's ranks was a good thing when faced with open warfare.

"Both you and I know that I could never actually hurt you, Mikhail." Jennifer moved over to a navy

leather wing chair and settled herself on the arm. Carefully she arranged her burgundy skirt, allowing

Mikhail a flash of thigh. She swallowed her revulsion as she felt his interested gaze sweep her flesh.

"However," she leaned against the back of the chair, her posture deceptively casual. The V-neck of her

blouse gaped slightly, allowing Mikhail an unobstructed view of her black lace bra. "We both know that

would be a waste of time and energy."

Mikhail smiled faintly. Gabrielle hissed her displeasure as her lover's gaze lingered on Jennifer's exposed

flesh. Mikhail ignored her. "What do you want from me, little Jennifer?"

"The truth." Jennifer shifted so her blouse once again obstructed his personal peep show. "Renault found

evidence of drugs and he saw you and this she-cat steal Miranda away. I want to know why you have

done this. As you know, Miranda is an old and dear friend of mine and quite naturally I am concerned for

her welfare."

Mikhail's smile faltered and then returned in full force. "So much for stealth, my dear," he said to the

bristling Gabrielle. He looked again at Jennifer, "And here I thought I was being so clever."

Jennifer wasn't fooled. Mikhail was not a stupid man. Unbalanced and reckless yes, but never stupid.

He'd wanted Renault to see him and Gabrielle take Miranda. She was as certain as she knew her own

name that this little "slip" was a part of his plan. Now she just had to figure out the purpose of his actions

and how to get Miranda out of the middle of it. "What have you done with her?"

"I have her hidden away, somewhere safe."

"I want to see her."

"No," Gabrielle snarled. "You cannot see her. Now you toddle off and tell Val..."

Jennifer glanced at Gabrielle, concentrating briefly on the crystal glass in the other woman's hand. A

Shadow Dweller 02 - Retribution.pdf

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