The Brethren Of Tavish [Vampire Coven Book 1] (4 page)

There was no water in the cavern she found
herself in. Mercy wobbled onto her unsteady feet. The ice was slick and she
slipped and landed painfully on her hands and knees. With her arms outstretched,
she felt the smooth wet walls with bare hands. She had taken her mittens off
for bedtime. The only thing she slept without so she could feel the fur in her
fingers. All around
she
roamed, around again and back.
Panicking, Mercy began to cry. She was trapped in an ice coffin. Everything was
pitch blackness. The icy hand of death began creeping up her spine. It appeared
her father would have his wish after all. With her mother dead and no doubt her
father, Mercy knew it wouldn’t be long before she succumbed to the deep freeze,
another victim of the ice abyss. Mercy curled herself into a small ball.

* * * *

“Damn them,”
Tavish thundered in
fury as he gazed around at the senseless destruction.

Tavish and his nineteen men stood inside the
ice cave. All around were the human bodies of the older dead. Bodies he and his
men would have sucked dry to celebrate and then left behind had they found this
clan first. Another coven had beat Tavish to their prey. It was immediately
apparent that reckless swiftness, not stealth and deep strategic maneuvering,
was involved in the raid. Tavish was certain he knew who had done this.
Remo, son of Rakin.
He had always been reckless. The spawn
of his former enemy had never gotten over the fact The Brethren of Tavish had
run his father and their coven away from the preferred grounds. Tavish decided
who was allowed to stay.

Each coven that denied Tavish entry in his
early vulnerable years, each coven to run him off and treat him unfairly was
slaughtered or forced out over the thousands of years as Tavish grew stronger.
Rakin’s was the last to fall, but fall it did, and so too did Rakin. It had
been sweet revenge to end his miserable life. Tavish should have ended the
young vampire, Remo’s life. But the vampire had begged pitifully and was still
quite young at the time. Rakin had at one time spared Tavish’s life; he would
do the same for his son. Rakin had sentenced Tavish to death in the bitter
cold. Remo’s fate had been the same. For thousands of years, Remo stalked the
ice even before the ice age. It would appear, because of Tavish’s leniency,
Remo had the upper hand in human ice fishing.

“Stupid fool,” Laken said in disgust.

A mere second and Tavish was before his friend.
In one fist, Laken held up the body of a dead man by his furs; his throat was
ripped out. The other fist held the body of a woman. She had obviously been
killed by a human. An older female but beautiful nonetheless, Tavish may have
been moved to spare her life. Many of the dead women had been killed by human
hands.
Including a pretty, petite woman of mid-childbearing
years.
The sight made Tavish roar in fury.

What a damned waste
.

Tavish spun around when Ursus snorted and
grunted. She was on her hind legs waving and pawing a scent closer, sniffing
and snuffling into the air her huge paws scooped. With a lumbering gate, Ursus
waddled
her massive body into a tunnel. After awhile she
stopped. She couldn’t go further without falling into an ice gorge. Ursus
moaned and grunted; she was wearing her snowy white eyes to speak to her
master.

Master, a female.

“What is it?” Laken asked. “I don’t hear a
heartbeat; I smell no warmth.”

“Ursus is certain there’s a woman down there.
Her sense of smell has heightened over the years. The tunnel is much like a
seal breathing hole.
Only far deeper.
She smells the
woman’s
breath
.” Tavish took the beast’s head in his
hands.

Again the bear snorted off a series of grunts
and growls no one understood but Tavish.
Hurry
Master.

Tavish nodded. He trusted Ursus’ scent
abilities. It didn’t take him long to maneuver the slick ice, hovering just
above it. Undeniably the human must have fallen in her haste to run and had become
trapped. The thick tunnel dropped almost straight down. Before long he heard
the heartbeat, though the sound was faint and he could sense very little
warmth. The human behind the ice wall was dying. Tavish smashed through the
barricade.

Oh no you don’t, I
deserve something for my trouble, female.

A sodden ball of pitiful fur lay in a crumpled
heap and for a moment, Tavish thought he was looking at a small hybrid bear
cub. For a fleeting second, his thoughts traveled back in time over thousands
of years ago to a female cub that had lost its life and helped forge the
friendship of loss between Tavish and its mother. The ball of fur moaned, it
whimpered a word, calling for her mother. She was human and she sounded young.

Tavish grabbed the back of the furry human and
turned her over. The water she had fallen in had frozen to her outer parka. She
was half ice-covered. She looked like she had no hands. Curious Tavish pulled
at her sleeves. Her hands were bare and tucked inside. For some reason she wore
no mittens. Frostbite was starting. The female wouldn’t last long. Tavish
didn’t have much area to maneuver so he hovered while dragging her behind him.
She was heavier than he expected, paltry still, but he assumed it was the layer
of frozen, sodden ice.

When Tavish emerged he scooped her up and
muscled his way past his curious men into the main living area. Ursus made a
painful grunt and Tavish knew the bundle of fur in his arms brought back
memories for the polar bear too. After a quick glance around, Tavish grabbed
dry furs that sat by the still simmering fire. He began tearing off the
female’s clothing. Tavish heard the approving whistles and mutters of his men
when the young woman lay nude before them. She was stunning. Her long, wet,
pale white hair hung well past her shoulders. Her cold skin was sleek as
porcelain and satiny soft. She was of slim waist with a rounded rather plump,
in a delectable way, behind. Slightly wide hips, perfect for breeding. Her
breasts were high, voluptuous and firm and would nourish a child, many
children, well.

The woman’s throat, her beautiful luscious
ivory throat was so damned tempting. Tavish could feel his long fangs ache to
burry inside her. Her gorgeous legs had creamy thighs to her mound he longed to
ravish. Tavish couldn’t resist. A careful finger eased gently into her wet
heat, probing and Tavish shuddered. She was a virgin. His prize was an
innocent. Tavish could feel his eyes cloud and was soon enjoying the look of
her lithe body through black-and-white sight. Every part of him burned for her.
The irregular black-and-white color blindness defined every part of her pale
flesh, helping him focus as his gaze filled with her sight.

Ursus came over and nudged Tavish as he
continued to simply bask in the beauty of the woman in his arms. The bear
grunted disapprovingly. Tavish nodded and wiped his hand down over his face,
regaining some control. He blinked rapidly. The bear had reminded him the woman
was already freezing, the heated stares of him and his men wouldn’t warm her.
Tavish tucked the warm fur blanket around his prize, and then another. He
planned on breeding her, but perhaps not yet. This was the first woman to stir
his loins in a long time. Her white-blond hair and vulnerability reminded him
of his first and dearest friend.

Ursus bumped him again. “I know, my friend. I
will tend to her,” Tavish said in a barely audible whisper. He gave his head a
shake. The site of the woman’s pale white hair bothered Ursus. Her hybrid cub
had been female but brown. This little female was as pale as Ursus, if wrapped in
a white fur she would have looked like a polar bear cub. He stood with the well
wrapped woman clutched against his chest. “There is nothing else here for us.
It’s time to head home.”

Almost as one, the men left the iceberg and
took to the skies for their long flight home. They were all dressed in black
and looked like a flowing dark cloud against the now quiet skies. Ursus would
follow at her own pace. Right now Tavish sensed her frustration and pain.
Tavish released her to hunt her favorite blood—male polar bears. She deserved
it. The angst of a vampire was the memories, even a polar bear vampire. They
never forgot—anything.

* * * *

Mercy drifted into consciousness. Her gaze
wandered around the beautiful room she was in, her eyes blinking. Everything
was unfamiliar, clean and sweet smelling.
It’s
so bright
. Sunlight danced across the floor. A floor not made of ice but
shiny wood. Objects she had never seen before stood against walls. The thing
she was lying on was unfamiliar and soft. It was up off the ground, not a bed
made over indented ice filled with furs. In fact, in the room there was not a
fur to be seen.

A spiny green thing sat under a square opening
that allowed sun in the room. The green thing was odd, somewhat like dead kelp
but not dead—it sat in a brown, thick substance. Colorful fish swam round in a
huge bowl. Mercy gaped at them; she had never seen live fish. Their tails
swished back and forth, and Mercy marveled at the ingeniousness of their
physical construction.

So that’s how they
move.

Curiously, she sat up. The covers pooled at her
waist and Mercy looked down and gasped in dismay. It was a rarity to see her
breasts. But there they were.
High, white and round with
darker-colored nipples.
For just a second, she was tempted to touch one.
Surely she must be dreaming? It was forbidden—even in dreams, to touch herself.
Lower, she searched until she watched her toes wiggle and realized her entire
body was nude. Complete nudity was forbidden. Her father would be furious, he
would beat her again.

Father is dead.

No, she wasn’t dreaming. Mercy was as certain
of his death as she was of her mother’s. But where was this place? The last
thing she remembered was falling into an ice cave. She had been wet and frozen.
She had been dying. Who had saved her? Mercy looked around for her clothing.
There was nothing of her furs. She lay between engaging quilted sheets. She
knew of quilted sheets, her mother had had just one.
But
nothing as fine as this.
She ran her hand over the texture, enjoying its
feel. Blue, she knew the color was blue.

A new startling fact came to her. She was warm,
even nude.
Warmer than she had ever felt in her entire life.
Oddly, no fire blazed. There was no smell of oil burning or the sharp scent of
ice and snow that had filled her lungs since birth. In her iceberg home, there
was always a hearty stew boiling. She could detect no food. None of the scents
invading her nostrils was familiar.

A throat cleared and Mercy yelped
,
she scooted back under the covers, fisting them under her
chin. From a dark corner emerged a man. He wore black pants, black foot
coverings and a black shirt. None of his strange clothing was vaguely familiar.
His thick, dark as night hair touched his shoulders. His nose was neither too
flat nor too sharp. His jaw was fine and strong. His chest was broad, but Mercy
was used to men always dressed in thick layers of fur. Because of that, he
looked smaller than the men she was used to so she wasn’t as intimidated. Yet,
the garments he wore outlined heavy muscles, thick powerful arms were bare; she
wasn’t used to seeing the actual outline of a man. He was intriguing and oh-so
handsome. Mercy felt her face burn with the thought; it was forbidden.

Clear blue eyes were locked onto her. In his
attire she was able to see his hips, his waist,
his
muscular legs. An odd bulge in the front of his pants caught her attention
briefly. Nothing was emphasized by the illusory bulk. The embodiment of the man
was real. He was beautiful, absolutely perfect. The man was tall, taller than
her father and Mercy had never seen anyone taller than her father.

“What’s your name?” the man asked. His voice
was deep, commanding, controlled. It suited him.

“Mercy,” she whispered, compelled to answer.

The man gave her a gentle smile, he splayed his
large hands. “You don’t need to beg little cub. I’m not going to harm you.”

“My name is Mercy,” she said. “My father named
me. I was supposed to be killed, I was an accident; he couldn’t bring himself
to do it. I was the first child of my mother when she was only seventeen; she
begged him to spare my life. Since he was also to blame and the fault was not
mine, he offered me a mercy and then thought the name suited me.”

The man nodded. “It does suit you.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Tavish.”

“Where am I?”

“I rescued you from the ice hell you were in
and brought you to my home.”

“Was it you who attacked my family?”

The man looked thunderous and Mercy shied back.
When a man became angry, he was unpredictable. “A man named Remo destroyed your
family.” His words were bitter, regretful.

Mercy was stunned. All of her family was gone?
Everyone?
“I’m all alone,” she whispered. She had never been
alone. Privacy was almost unheard of, but to have no one was more than a shock.
What would she do? How was she to live and to hunt? She would die of loneliness
with no family to love her.