Bonded Hearts
Bonded Hearts
By Tamsin Baker
Copyright © 2018 by Tamsin Baker
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Cover by: Emcat Designs
Edited by: Carolyn Shelly Depew
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Contents:
Prologue.
Chapter 1.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4.
Chapter 5.
Chapter 6.
Chapter 7.
Epilogue.
Prologue
London, 1811
All vampires are selfish creatures by design. Monsters, created to feed on the very kind they were before they died.
This un-natural state turned many vampires into truly sadistic creatures, but that was when Fate stepped in. To give a reprieve for the souls able to find peace in their immortality.
Vampire unions are too explosive to have only two souls joined. The strongest shape is three pieces combined.
So, legend proclaims that all vampire unions should fall into ménage relationships. Three generally, although four is sometimes necessary.
Without all three or four of the vampires united, the others feel incomplete and often fall into a depressive state. When, and if, they do find their third or fourth, the souls rests happy forever because they’ve found their final piece.
Chapter One
“You know how jealous we are, do you not?” Eric said as he glared at Nathaniel, one of his lucky vampire brethren.
“Of our children or our mate?” Nathaniel asked with an irritating lift of one eyebrow.
Eric growled in response, his primitive urge to take his frustration out on the smug vampire in front of him hard to ignore.
They were jealous of the children, most definitely. They were delightful, indeed. But the envy that he and Malcolm felt regarding another vampire pair finding their third was eating them alive.
The answer was obviously written on his face because Michael answered Nathaniel’s question.
“We do understand, Eric.” Michael, Nathaniel’s vampire mate, walked across the room and handed Eric a very precious bundle. “Here.”
The weight, heat and smell of the half-human baby hit Eric’s senses all at once, and he brought his arms protectively around the infant.
“My goodness...” Eric breathed out his shock at seeing Michael’s blonde daughter, born of their human mate. Her weight in his arms was the only thing convincing him that he wasn’t dreaming. How was it possible?
“She is...” He swallowed hard. As a nine-hundred-year-old vampire, it was the first time in almost a millennium that he’d been at a loss for words.
“She is almost as beautiful as her brother.” Malcolm, Eric’s mate, walked over to him for comfort. He was holding Nathaniel’s dark-haired son.
Eric looked down at the sleeping infant Malcolm held. He was a mirror image of his father. Twins, each born of a different vampire father. Truly incredible.
Eric finally found his voice. “They are a miracle.”
Nathaniel and Michael sat side by side on the chaise lounge, Michael’s arm slung casually around his mate.
“They are, but so is our Abigail.” Nathaniel said with a smile.
Eric and Malcolm exchanged worried glances. They had searched the world over for their third mate, yet she had eluded them. Insanity was looming and they were helpless to stop it.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
Abigail greeted them as she walked into the sitting room. Her scent was rather intoxicating, despite her being another’s mate.
Eric forced his unwanted fangs to retract and heard Nathaniel and Michael’s laugh at seeing him struggle to control his thirst.
“She is rather delicious, isn’t she?” Michael growled, possessively reaching out for his mate.
Eric looked back down at the child in his arms. Their daughter was a true miracle, but it wasn’t what he craved after all this time.
He wanted, nay, he needed to feel complete, just once in his long life.
“They are beautiful, are they not?” Abigail asked as she moved across to him and bent to place a kiss on her daughter’s head.
Hot tears burnt the back of his eyes. He couldn’t be around this elated trio much longer. He did not begrudge them their happiness, but it had just been so long a journey for him and Malcolm, that seeing everything they did not have was painful.
“I think we must go.” He handed the baby back to Abigail and shot a terrified look at his mate.
Malcolm sighed and handed his bundle back to Nathaniel. Eric appreciated his mate’s support, despite Malcolm believing him to be emotionally weak.
Malcolm handled their impending insanity with much more aplomb.
“Please excuse us.”
They bowed as one and turned. Abigail stepped towards the door, barring their exit with her small frame.
“No, you are not excused. If I have done something to offend you, then please tell me.”
Eric exchanged a glance with his mate. A small smile appeared on Malcolm’s face, which Eric knew was mirrored on his own. They loved how feisty Abigail was, even in the face of danger.
They hoped for a mate very similar to her.
Eric answered. “Abigail, you have done nothing wrong. Please know that we love you. However, we have still not found our final piece, and seeing the three of you, nay, the five of you, together… is difficult...”
Eric’s voice trailed off as he knew it would. Putting his feelings into words had always been hard, but lately it had become more so.
Abigail rocked the sleeping bundle in her arms in a natural gesture that touched a chord in Eric once again. This need to cry at the drop of a hat was getting ridiculous.
Abigail furrowed her brow at him in concern. “But you have time. I’m sure you will....”
She stopped when Michael stepped close and placed a hand on her shoulder. “My love, Eric and Malcolm are over nine-hundred years old.”
Abigail frowned, her confusion obvious. “So?”
Michael stroked her cheek lovingly, obviously unable to stop touching her for a moment.
Eric ground his teet
h together in frustration.
“Do you remember what I told you about the two vampires in Paris?” Michael asked her.
Abigail’s frown deepened before comprehension spread across her face, and she gasped. “No! You can’t!”
Eric’s love for Abigail was solidified at that moment. What an incredible woman.
Malcolm stepped closer to Eric for support. His heat was a welcome and soothing presence.
“We will be fine for a little while longer, Abigail.” Malcolm soothed their hostess whilst rubbing a hand up and down Eric’s back.
He nodded. They would. They had to be.
“But....” Abigail was looking around the room, her eyes wide and panicked.
“It will be all right, Abigail.” Eric stepped closer and touched her arm in reassurance, amazed that a human woman would care so much for him and Malcolm.
They were resigned that their fate would soon be insanity and death. Her fear for them was a palpable thing, and it made Eric’s grip on reality tighten. He welcomed the feeling with open arms.
“Yes, it will be all right.” Abigail nodded as though she had decided it would, so therefore it would be.
She handed Michael his daughter and began to pace. She reminded Eric of a military commander about to organise her troops.
“I will hold a ball in one month. You are both to attend. I will invite every man and woman who fits your taste, your dreams, anything you can tell me. We will find them for you.”
Eric felt Malcolm’s blood heat in direct complement to his own. They were being offered hope, something they had been slowly losing for the last few hundred years.
Despair filled him at her request. How could she help?
“We don’t know anything specific, Abigail.”
She made an impatient noise in her throat, and Malcolm chuckled beside him. Eric smiled also. She was truly magnificent. The Viking warrior in him knew a kindred spirit when it saw one.
“You must. Think! Anything at all that can help me.”
Eric and Malcolm exchanged another look. They’d each had a strange dream recently, but they had not shared it with anyone else.
Malcolm nodded at him, granting permission, and Eric turned to the fiery redhead in front of them.
“We each had a dream recently about a young gentleman with piercing blue eyes and almost-black hair. We don’t know what it means, but it seems unusual to have shared such a thing together.”
Abigail nodded but didn’t ask anything else. No one had ever heard of a bonded three with no female, but at this point in their lives, Eric was not going to rule out anything.
Their hostess finally moved out of the doorway and took one of her children to the chaise lounge.
She began loosening her dress to expose her breast to the infant.
“We will send you an invitation for the ball, but please visit again.”
Eric hid his grin as he and Malcolm bowed as one, exiting as any human would, out the front door at a slow, ambling pace.
After they had rounded the corner, Malcolm surprised him when he pressed Eric up against the wall. Malcolm’s lips devoured his moan of pleasure.
Both he and Malcolm had been in their late twenties when they had been turned. Their sex life had been incredible for more than six-hundred years. The past few centuries however, it had dwindled in direct correlation to their life force.
Malcolm forced his tongue into Eric’s mouth, and Eric moaned again. He had missed this so much. The blood lust, the passion. It had become a distant memory until tonight.
He pushed his mate back, panting hard.
“Home... now. I need you.”
Malcolm nodded, and together they flew back to their townhouse and their below-ground bedroom. Eric ripped off his clothes and dropped to his knees in front of his lover.
Malcolm’s cock was swollen and already weeping pearly pre-cum. Eric groaned to see such evidence of his mate’s need for him. It had been too long for both.
Eric grabbed Malcolm’s bare ass in both hands and impaled his mouth on the cock he knew better than his own. He groaned as Malcolm began to move, thrusting in so that his cock tickled the back of Eric’s throat.
He felt like a new vampire again. Horny and hot, his mate everything he could possibly need.
He cupped Malcolm’s balls and sucked on his cock harder. Eric moaned with pleasure as his lust continued to grow. He pulled back after a time, needing so much more.
Malcolm cupped his jaw and made a motion with his other hand.
“Turn around and bend forward, my love.”
Eric eagerly turned and put his chest to the floor. Malcolm moved to kneel behind him. Legs apart, arse tilted up, he shook with anticipation of his mate’s cock.
Malcolm had always topped Eric, and he loved it. There was nothing like a deep, penetrating, arse fucking by the mate who would die for him.
It had been a long time since either of them had wanted it, though. Years, perhaps, since they’d shared this sort of intimacy.
“I have missed this so much, Malcolm.”
Malcolm gripped his hip with one hand and generously oiled him up with the other. “I know, lover. It has been too long.”
The thick head of Malcolm’s cock butted up against his arse hole, and just as Eric pushed back to accept him, Malcolm thrust in deep.
“Fuck! Yes!”
Eric reached up to grip the hand that held his hip and stretched the other hand far out in front of him, elongating his torso and opening himself up for the ride to come.
Malcolm grunted in agreement and moved faster.
Eric panted harder. “Malcolm, you feel so good. Your cock hits all the right spots.”
Malcolm slowed down, his voice cracking with sadness as he said, “I can still feel it though, Eric.”
Eric sensed it, too. He lifted his head and looked at his other hand, outstretched and reaching for his other mate. His mouth felt empty of another’s flesh, his heart aching despite the pleasure Malcolm gave him.
They had to find their third. They wouldn’t survive another century without them.
Making a split-second decision, Eric reluctantly pulled away from Malcolm’s cock and flew around behind his mate. His arse ached, empty now, but Malcolm needed the reassurance of their love more than he did tonight.
He pushed on Malcolm’s shoulders.
“Go down, Malcolm. Now.”
Malcolm bent forward slowly. It had been centuries since they had switched.
“I don’t understand... Eric?”
Eric reached for the oil bottle and pressed two lubricated fingers into his mate’s tight arse, deliberately pushing into the pleasure spot.
“You need to feel this. You ache, don’t you? For possession?”
Malcolm didn’t respond, but Eric felt the shiver that went through his mate as he waited for the feeling that would soon come. He continued to work him until Eric felt the tension ease out of Malcolm’s body. He pulled his fingers out, lined his cock up against Malcolm’s tight arse hole and pressed in.
The sensation of his cock being gripped tightly was so incredible he moaned aloud.
Malcolm wasn’t as eager and his back began to tense up. “Ah, fuck,s that hurts.”
Eric stroked down Malcolm’s back and began to move in a slow, rocking motion. He knew the pleasure would come, it always did for him.
“Just relax, my love. Wait for it. Pull your cock for me.”
Malcolm reached under himself and began to stroke.
Eric felt the release within Malcolm’s muscles as the pleasure distracted him from the pain. Eric began to move faster, in longer strokes. His balls were tightening in impending orgasm. He wouldn’t last much longer.
He tilted Malcolm’s pelvis to maximise Malcolm’s pleasure and held onto his control with tenterhooks.
Eric fucked Malcolm’s arse hard and fast, praying his mate would catch up. He ran a hand down Malcolm’s beautifully muscled back, and Malcolm roared beneath him.
Eric grunted. He couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to.
“Come, Malcolm.”
Malcolm cried out again as his orgasm took him up and over that beautiful peak of pleasure. He threw his head back and roared.
Eric kept moving and focused on the difference being on top made, so he could understand Malcolm’s feelings more.
When he was beneath Malcolm, with his arse full of cock, the loss of their third was less obvious to him. In this position he felt it more. He stretched out a hand and grabbed Malcolm’s shoulder for leverage.
“I know, Eric. I know...” Malcolm’s heartbroken voice cracked through Eric’s thoughts as his orgasm descended.
“We’ll find them...”
Malcolm’s last words pushed Eric over the edge, and he rode the wave until they collapsed together—exhausted, but filled with hope for the first time in centuries.
Chapter Two
A month of hot sex ensued. Malcolm was determined to make the bond between Eric and him as strong as possible before Abigail’s ball.
It wasn’t an easy time for them, but they sent up many whispered prayers to the Fates, begging for the final piece they had been promised.
Finally, the night arrived and Malcolm stood in his evening finery, surveying the ballroom beside his mate, his best friend and lover of nine-hundred years.
“Do you think it’s actually possible, Eric?” Malcolm asked, trying to disguise the hope in his voice.
Then he turned his back on the ballroom full of the ton’s elite to adjust his breeches. “I hate evening clothes.”
They’d both been born in an age when their clothing was little more than furs and wrap-around cords that tied it all together. Restrictive evening suits did nothing to help his current temperament.
Eric chuckled. “I know you do, my love. And to answer your question, I hope so. Oh, God, I hope so.”
Malcolm frowned when he saw the happy look on his mate’s face.