Claimed as Theirs by Kryssie Fortune

Author:Kryssie Fortune [Fortune, Kryssie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2021-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

There’d been lingering kisses and loving words, but like medieval warlords, Gwen’s vampires abandoned her when the going got tough. She’d half expected one of them to strap her into a chastity belt. Determined to go after them, she hurried to her room and dressed in the outdoor gear she’d collected the day before.

Her menfolk’s absence left her mired in misery. Like an addict, she craved their touch. Besides, Harper’s prophecy played on a loop in her brain. Don’t under any circumstance let them leave you behind. Without you at their side, they fail. Gwen loved them too much to risk that.

As she stepped outside, Sawyer blocked her way. She bridled but stood firm. “Unless you’re prepared to toss me back in that dungeon, I’m going after them. If not, move aside.”

Emma linked her arm through his. “You can’t keep your future queen under lock and key.”

Glad of her support, Gwen gave her a quick hug. “Thank you.”

Laughter gleamed in Sawyer’s eyes, but he kept his expression stern. “No wonder Plato ordered me to change the foragers’ route today. They’re bound for Beal, the mainland end of the tidal pathway to Lindisfarne. Ride with them, and once the causeway emerges from the waves, cross to the island with your mates.”

The horror of their first meeting forgotten, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Soon, she sat at the rear of the cart, legs dangling as she bit into a tart apple. “Again, thanks for your help. Remember, the birthright chose Bronte for a reason. He’ll make a wonderful king.”

Historically, humans had revered Lindisfarne for its religious connections, unaware that when the monks moved out, vampires moved in. Despite the coachloads of summer tourists, the tidal access gave them a private place for their ceremonial gatherings.

The nine-mile journey seemed endless. When the island came into view, waves covered the causeway. Gwen remembered her one and only visit to the castle. The interior had been redesigned by Edward Lutyens, but with its curtain walls and high clifftop position towers, the exterior wouldn’t be out of place in a Disney film.

As the foragers neared the beach, she spotted Bronte pacing the shore. Gore sat on a grassy knoll and sharpened his blades on a leather strop. Plato shot glances down the road as if expecting her. “Our bride wasn’t pleased that we left her behind.”

“She’d be even angrier if we’d dragged her into Molaresmorte territory,” Bronte snapped. “I won’t let anyone treat her the way they do humans. And for goodness’ sake, stop looking over your shoulder. Any threats we face are on the island.”

Gwen gulped, then stepped onto the beach.

Plato’s lazy smile blossomed. “You both underestimated our bride. I did right when I suggested Sawyer reroute our foragers this way. And before either of you says a word, did you want her wandering about the countryside without any protection?”

Grinning, he caught her when she launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaped up, and locked her ankles behind his back.

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