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The past two months have been the longest of Byron Renfield's three hundred and seventy-nine years. After almost four centuries of dedicated service to his clan, four centuries spent in the pursuit of redemption, the powerful vampire did the inexplainable and unforgivable. In an impulsive act of passion he claimed the beautiful Violet Deeds, a human, as his mate.
When Violet found herself stranded on a remote island occupied by the charismatic Byron she never imagined that she would be saving him, but the fiery red-headed psychiatrist did just that-bringing the immortal to life and introducing him to love.
Now, afraid of retribution from his clan and concerned for Violet's safety, Byron takes steps to protect them both. But will it be enough? Irrevocably bound together, as the tie between Byron and Violet strengthens, they step into one another's worlds, awakening long buried desires and threatening the balance of society and nature.
A kidnapping, an underground world of rebel vampires, an elaborate network of elite clansman led by an ageless prophet, and a rescue mission that will keep you on the edge of your seat all come together perfectly in this thrilling sequel to Samantha Sommersby's Forbidden The Claim. Forbidden The Awakening is an erotic romance that you won't be able to put down!
"Samantha Sommersby tells a kick butt tale...I eagerly read through each and every page and found myself immersed." - Romance Junkies
PLEASE NOTE: BY READING ANY FURTHER YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE OF THE LEGAL AGE OF 18. IT IS NECESSARY TO EXIT THIS WEBSITE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.
We were stuck in traffic, again. I was so close. It took all of my resolve to stay safely ensconced inside of the black limo with its tinted windows. Even at the ripe age of three hundred seventy-nine, the sun would weaken me after several hours of exposure. And I wanted all of my strength tonight, because tonight I was going to be in Violet's arms, in Violet's bed.
It had only been eight weeks since I'd claimed her. I'd known of Violet practically since the day she was born, twenty-seven years ago. My sister, Fred, and her partner had sponsored her. I didn't ask questions and they never offered an explanation. I walked the straight and narrow back then, you see. And Fred and Grace, well, they were what you would call a non-traditional couple.
There was a trust to take care of the Chosen children, children like Violet, children born of a human mother and a vampire father. I know.because I managed it. At least I did up until four weeks ago.
I knew that there were some children that never did get registered. Their fathers were often rogue immortals with a taste for humans, vampires living on the edge of society, outcasts by choice or by decree of the Dominie. I'd long imagined that was the situation with Violet, that she was fathered by an immortal outside of a claim, kept in the dark by her mother, and cared for through the charity of generous souls like Fred and Grace.
But I didn't care about Violet's origins, about the rules, about the canon. Not anymore. All I cared about right now was getting to her and keeping her out of harm's way.
I'd been en-route for four weeks and had spent another four weeks prior to that meticulously planning my escape from the Clan that I'd served and the position I'd held for centuries. I'd hired over two dozen limousines, each from a different company, each with a different driver. I mostly traveled at night and I always paid cash. I'd switched names daily. This afternoon I'd woken up Byron Adams. And that was the name I was going to keep. I set out a bit earlier than usual today, wanting desperately for this journey to end and for my new life to begin.
"How much further?"
"We're just a couple blocks, sir."
A couple blocks. I hadn't spoken with Violet since I put her on the boat with my former consort, Rita. Rita had promised to see Violet to safety and then to disappear herself for a while. I hadn't heard from her since and trusted that she'd done as I'd requested. Violet was safe, I knew that, I felt it. All I had to do was reach out, through the claim, to feel her emotions, to know her state of mind. Violet and I may not have spoken during the past few weeks, but we were in constant contact-our souls, our lives irrevocably intertwined.
"This is it?" I asked as the limousine came to a stop in front of what looked reminiscent of a doll house that Fred had when we were young.
"This is the address you gave me, sir," the driver replied.
The outside of the cottage was painted a cheerful yellow, the trim was white and the front door was fittingly a bluish-purple. The window boxes along the front of the house were filled with brightly colored pansies. A few passers-by stopped to look at the limousine, which I'm sure appeared curiously out of place on the narrow street of the small San Diego beach community.
"Shall I get the luggage?"
"Yes," I said, handing him an envelop of cash. "There's a little something extra in there for you."
"It's been a pleasure, sir," he said.
I closed my eyes and reached out to her. She wasn't in the house. Of that, I was sure. My sense of her was definitely stronger than it had been in weeks, but not as strong as I would have liked, not as strong as it was when we were together. Wherever she was now, she was feeling annoyed as hell. I felt a tug at the corners of my mouth. My Violet was a feisty one. I was dead certain she was giving some poor bastard a hard time about something.
I stepped out of the car and walked swiftly to the door. The sun was low in the sky as I ran my hand across the top of the doorjamb in search of a key. Upon locating it, I slipped it into the lock, turned it, and then opened the door to what was now my home.
"Just set my things inside," I said as I walked across the living room to gaze out onto the back deck. There was a grill outside, along with a table, some chairs and a hammock. Having been raised on an island, I'd watched many a sunset over the ocean, but this one seemed to hold an extra promise-the promise of a new beginning.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" asked the driver.
"No, that will be all," I replied, unlocking the French doors that led to the deck and deeply inhaling the cool air. Outside the tides were high and the sea was churning. The ocean breeze blew the curtains about in the small living space.
I heard the latch on the door click into place as the driver left, closing it behind him. I had thought that my nerves would feel less frayed once I had arrived, but I was wrong. I looked about the cozy sitting area that was arranged around a modest entertainment center. The overstuffed blue and white striped sofa looked soft and inviting, a poignant contrast to my traditional black leather. I sat down, sinking deeply into it, toed off my shoes, put my feet up on the glass coffee table, closed my eyes, and let her scent wrap around me-just as it had the moment I first looked upon her.
I remembered with stark clarity how she had rushed into my house to escape the rain, quickly closing the door. And, how when she turned and smiled up at me, my breath caught in my throat. She was simply dazzling. Despite the cold, warmth radiated from her body. Her scent surrounded me, enveloping me in an aroma so intoxicatingly delicious that it was almost dizzying.
My reverie was interrupted by the rumbling sound of the ice-maker as it unloaded a fresh batch of ice. I opened my eyes and turned my head towards the culprit. The white side by side was covered with magnets holding photos and slips of paper. I stood up, walking past the dining room table on my right into the small open kitchen.
I scanned the selection of takeout menus, dry-cleaning receipts, and photos filled with people I didn't know. Suddenly a sense of self-doubt began to creep in. I gazed about the unfamiliar home and wondered, for the first time really, how I was going to fit in Violet's world. I'd been so focused on my escape, on the journey. I hadn't given any thought as to what would happen once I'd arrived. My mouth went dry. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, and opened the door to the refrigerator to search for something to drink.
Sitting on the top shelf was a bottle of Tattinger's with a post-it note that said, "Welcome Home". The fact that she was expecting me brought me comfort. I wondered, briefly, if she could sense that I was here, waiting for her, wanting her.
I picked up the chilled bottle, pulled off the note, and stuck it into my breast pocket. We were bonded, I realized, and irrevocably so, but need and desire isn't the same as choosing to love. I knew that all too well.
The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar. The light spilled into the hallway, casting the walls in an eerie glow. I tiptoed across the gleaming hard wood, inching closer. I could see my mother, sitting at her vanity, brushing out her hair.
"I hate it here," she said, as she lay her silver backed brush down.
"You'll get used to it," my father responded from somewhere deep within the recesses of the room.
My mother stood and turned, presumably to face him. "I don't want to get used to it. I want to go back to London."
"You want to go back to your lover. I'm enough of an embarrassment to my brother. You think he would tolerate my being made a cuckhold? You think I will? It's my bed you belong in, Lillian. You're mine. Understand?"
My mother's hand flew up to cover her mouth and her cheeks flushed crimson. "Astor, I."
My father suddenly came into view. He walked swiftly over to my mother, grabbing her about the shoulders. "I don't want to speak of this again. This is a chance for us, Lillian, a chance to start over. We've both made mistakes. I know I've been distant and resentful. I know I drink too much. I know that I've neglected you."
"Are you saying that things will be different?" she asked, hopefully.
My father released her and turned away. I stepped back deeper into the hallway, into the cover of darkness. The pained expression I'd witnessed on my father's face forever etched into my mind.
"I need you, Lillian," I heard him admit, quietly. "God, help me, but I do."
"Need." My mother nodded, tiredly. "Do you even love me? Have you ever loved me, Astor?"
He spun back to face her. "I've given you everything! Everything!"
"Everything but that.the one thing I truly want from you!" she yelled, tears of frustration spilling from her eyes.
My father forcefully threw his glass at the wall. It exploded, sending shards of crystal everywhere.
"Can't you just admit it? This.what we have.it's not some prison sentence, Astor. We're not together because I seduced you. We're not together because of some thrall or magics!"
"Why are we, then? Tell me!" he shouted back.
"Because I was fool enough to choose to love you! Why can't you admit that you love me?" she sobbed.
I watched as my father pulled her into his embrace and soothed her, lacing one hand into her long mane of dark hair and making sweeping circles on her back with the other.
"Shh," he whispered. "It's going to be all right. I know what you need, Lillian."
"Oh, Astor," she moaned, melting into him.
He swept her hair aside, then leaned down and began to nuzzle her neck, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder as he reached up to palm one of her breasts through her long cotton gown.
After a moment or two, my mother's knees buckled and my father lifted her, still trembling, into his arms. She reached up, languidly, and with her thumb swiped the remnants of her blood that clung to his lower lip.
"Thank you," she whispered, offering her thumb to him.
My father nodded and carried her out of view, towards their bed.
"Sleep now, Lillian. You need to rest."
The lights went out, shrouding the room within and the hall in which I was standing in complete darkness. Frozen in place, I waited for them to fall asleep. My mother, sated, drifted off first. My father followed her into slumber soon thereafter, but not before murmuring his greatest fear into the night, a fear that he'd managed to somehow pass on to me.
"You don't love me," he whispered. "You love what I do to you."
I shook off the memory, popped the cork on the bottle, and searched through the cabinets until I found the proper glass. I served myself some champagne, raised it, and said, "To learning from the sins of our fathers."
I took a sip, then, intent on exploring my surroundings, I set the glass down on the counter. It didn't take me long to familiarize myself with the entire cottage. There were only two other rooms, a small bathroom with a tub that was decidedly not big enough for two, and a modest sized bedroom. The bed itself was adorned with pillows galore and a floral print duvet. The windows were covered in white lace, and the walls were a pale shade of pink. I looked about and tried not to panic.
I retraced my steps to confirm that, indeed, this was it. And it was. Then I wondered, briefly, if Violet would notice if I made a few changes. Like maybe swapping out the bedding for something a bit more masculine or adding a second story.
I moved my luggage to the bedroom, setting it on the floor next to what appeared to be Violet's reading chair. There were at least a half-a-dozen books on the nearby table about vampires. I smiled. The thought that she was trying to learn about me warmed my heart. I was about to sit down to read some completely misguided vampire folklore when the sound of an approaching car drew my attention. I hastily made my way down the hall towards the front door. Even before I picked up the thread of their conversation, I could feel her. It was Violet.she'd come home.
"Violet, look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm worried about you. You still need to eat. Let's order a pizza. We can watch a movie or something."
"No!" she said, definitively. I heard the slam of the car door. "You said this was business. That's why I agreed. We were supposed to be going to your office to go over my testimony, not going to your apartment for a cozy dinner."
"You used to like cozy dinners in my apartment," he said suggestively.
"I've moved on, Michael. You should, too."
"That's just it, you haven't. I'd feel better if you had. This just doesn't make sense. You're not dating. You come home after work, and you just sit here."
"Have you been watching me?"
A low rumble began to sound in my chest.
"Byron?" Violet whispered. Then a bit louder, "Byron?"
My heart began to pound in anticipation as I waited for the doorknob to turn. And then, quite suddenly, my arms were filled with Violet, her mouth covering mine in a searing kiss. I stepped back quickly and turned, taking her with me around the corner, into the hallway, and away from prying eyes.
"You've come," she gasped as I pushed her up against the wall. I was a bit rougher than I'd intended to be, but she didn't seem to notice or mind. Perhaps she'd grown stronger. Perhaps her need for me, like mine for her, overpowered everything else, obliterating all other thought.
She threaded her fingers through my hair and pulled back from the kiss. I gazed upon her for the briefest of moments, searching her eyes then I hungrily began my worship of her, my mouth leaving a trail of kisses down the length of her jaw, my tongue licking a path down her neck, searching for my mark.
I vaguely registered that Violet was grabbing at my shirt, pulling it out of my jeans and fumbling with the buttons. "Not yet, baby," I murmured. "But, if you keep this up, I'll be coming any minute now."
I palmed her breast with my right hand while reaching for the edge of her skirt with my left. I could feel the silk of her stockings. Her thigh quivered under my touch. I abandoned her breast just long enough to tear her lace underwear to shreds.
Violet's hands were on my belt, then pulling down the rasp of my zipper. It was the best unzipping of my life, ending blissfully as my fully erect cock, heavy with desire, spilled out into my mate's waiting hands.
"I need you. Oh, Byron. Please," she begged.
And I understood, because I needed her, too. God, how I needed her. I placed my hands under the firm globes of her ass and lifted her, sliding her up the length of the wall. Violet wound her legs around me, pulling me in closer, engulfing me, surrounding me. With one sure thrust I buried myself to the hilt inside of her willing pussy.
Then it was as if time stood still. It was just Violet and me and the sounds of our breathing. All movement stopped. I gazed into her eyes and swallowed, my own misting with tears, echoing the emotion I saw in hers. Then, as a smile spread across her beautiful face, I began to move once again. A steady pace building to a slow burn. Our breathing quieted, the desperate pants slowing. It felt so good to be inside of her again at last, so right to be making love to her. Overwhelmed with emotion, I leaned in, resting my forehead against hers. "I love you," I whispered, all the while churning my hips, thrusting in and out, slowly and deliberately, savoring the smell, the feel, and desperately wanting just a little taste.
"I love you, too," she whispered to me. "Don't stop, Ren. Don't ever stop."
"Never," I answered, sucking on her neck, on my mark, but not breaking the skin.
Violet's orgasm shattered through her. She grabbed the back of my head, fisting my hair in her hand and searching out my eyes. "Oh. Oh, yes!" she shouted. Tremors wracked her body as I spilled inside of her, coating her walls with my come. It was every bit as glorious as I had been imagining it would be, perhaps even more so.