Chapter Thirty
Once more, Mina was being escorted by guards down the long corridor. Dominik had awoken from his blood and sex-coated bed two hours earlier and released her from being confined in the chair where she’d watched the horror of her future husband’s conquests.
The memory of what she’d been forced to watch all night flickered anew. Three of his concubines writhing in his bed, all of them roped and bound in different postures. He favored the blonde, who was fair, her hair braided in a long rope. He bound her hands and ankles with her bottom straight up in the air so he could beat her with a black riding crop. Mina had heard of such sex games, of course, but these weren’t mere tantalizing games. Dominik took each of them beyond pain to the edge of death before he was done with them.
He placed the one he bound with her bottom in the air facing Mina. “Look at my future queen, Melinda. Isn’t she beautiful?” He’d whack her with the crop as she cried out, “Yes!” Then he took her from behind, and when Mina tried to look away, he wouldn’t have it. “Look in my eyes, little dove.” And Mina did. “Watch what I’m going to do to you tonight.” Then he wrapped Melinda’s braid around his wrist, gripping it near the scalp, and yanked her head back till she screamed as he pounded into her body and lashed her back with the riding crop, leaving red welts crisscrossing her porcelain skin. The woman whimpered, tears streaming down her face as she stared at Mina, humiliation and pain written on her face. The whole time, Dominik forced Mina to gaze into his eyes, grinning with unnatural delight.
“Tonight, little dove,” he kept saying, reminding her over and over that this fate would soon be hers. Then he’d beat the girl with the crop again, just to hear her pain-filled cries.
The nightmare ran on for hours, till he finally tired and released her from her chair, dragging her by the wrist to an adjacent chamber, where two lady’s maids awaited next to a steaming bath.
He commanded her to drink the blood they brought in a carafe, then to bathe and prepare for the midnight ceremony. She shuddered at being forced to marry him, her heart sinking at what tonight would behold. “Be sure you put her hair in one long braid,” he’d said as he clenched his fist.
Mina shivered with dread, remembering the concubine he’d abused all night, pretending she was Mina. Then he’d left with little more than a gloating smirk at her as she stood there, frozen in fear at the thought of bedding him. Of becoming his slave to brutalize and humiliate.
He’d given her a dress of red lace overlaying black silk, scalloped at her neckline and dropping to a sharp vee down to her sternum in the front and to the small of her back. He’d also instructed she not wear a chemise, a corset, or underskirts. In a mockery of modesty, the lace sleeves extended to her wrists. She wanted to refuse to wear such a monstrosity, but what use was it? He’d only command her, and through pain or a beating, he’d make her submit to his will.
As the guards led her down a long corridor, unadorned with a rug to soften their steps, rather than down the grand staircase as she’d expected, her mind wandered again to Mikhail. Where was he at that very moment? Would he have been able to follow their trail in the blizzard? Her spirit darkened, remembering how they’d tossed Gavril off the cliff as if he were an animal carcass to be discarded. The cruelty of these men, of Dominik, of the queen, set her emotions aflame once more.
She glanced down every corridor and through every open door, hoping to get a glance at Izzy, praying she was still unharmed. Though fear lit in her eyes, Izzy was still unhurt. Mina had to find a way to save her after this blasphemy of a wedding ceremony.
One of the guards stopped before a door with a rounded wall. When he unlocked and open the door, revealing a winding staircase within, she realized it was one of the turrets leading to the battlements. Holding the door open, he gestured for her to go ahead. She walked up the narrow, spiral staircase, catching a whiff of the cold night air above.
So she’d be married on the battlements of Izeling Tower? So be it. A strength she’d never experienced welled up inside of her, a tingling along her skin. She could do this. If she could survive a lifetime of loneliness and neglect at Briar Rose and the pain and agony of the bloodless sleep, then she could survive King Dominik.
She stepped out onto the battlement and saw the hulking figure of the man himself. He stood on a square of red fabric—the matrimonial cloth in his royal colors—at the far end of the battlement, overlooking the northern road winding down into the city. The lights of Izeling glittered like the stars above them, the night unusually clear. Queen Morgrid stood beside Dominik in a shimmering black gown. Two dozen Legionnaires made up the square of the battlement, which happened to be the tallest.
As she walked toward them, the only sound was the sigil banner rippling in the wind. And her heart beat in her throat. She approached like the queen she was, shedding whatever fears had made her cower within a shell her whole life.
The gaunt priest in black stood on the other side of the matrimonial cloth, his back to the parapet wall, his head bowed in prayer and cowl billowing in a gentle breeze.
Yes, the night was gentle. Even the moon—full and bright—cast an air of serenity on those below. An ironic twist of fate as a war waged within her.
“Welcome, my bride.” Dominik appeared tense and eager, not quite the relaxed beast that was his usual demeanor.
Morgrid appeared equally tense. “Let’s get on with it.” If not more so.
Something shining behind the queen caught Mina’s eye. It was a swath of black silk draped over a waist-high table, oddly shaped—narrow and not especially long. Then Mina noted the cross-like extensions with iron restraint cuffs at the end, her gaze dropping to the cuffs on short chains and the pillow at the head above the cross restraints.
“No.” Mina shook her head in horror. “A consummation altar?” Savagery.
She’d read about them, used by kings long ago. Public consummation so there was no argument whether the marriage was legal. It was a barbaric ritual for the king to display his husbandly rights the moment the vows were said. To force his bride’s submission in front of witnesses only exhibited his strength and power. And brutality.
Dominik laughed. The queen didn’t, her piercing gaze twinkling under the moonlight.
“You will beget the infant I need tonight.”
Radomir appeared, dragging Izzy by the wrist. Three of the Legionnaires stepped out of line, revealing another horrific surprise, a stone altar with dark stains upon its flat surface. Radomir lay Izzy roughly on her back. She whimpered. With assistance, the Legionnaires cuffed her tiny wrists and ankles, the wind billowing her frayed nightgown at her knees.
“You can’t!” she screamed. She turned to Dominik. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Just don’t hurt the girl. Please, I beg you.” She looked up at him, thinking herself insane if she would find any sympathy or mercy there.
“I can.” Dominik gripped her arm and jerked her next to him. “And I will.”
Facing the priest, whose eyes swam with compassion, Mina couldn’t find the answer to escape this nightmare, even while that whispering voice inside told her to be calm. That help was coming.
“Get on with it, priest.” Dominik squeezed her arm in a viselike grip. “And make it quick.”
…
Mikhail was on edge, crouching from the line of trees near the south-gate entrance while Vietka and her girls sauntered up the winding drive, cackling and carrying on like it was any other night. They had to be especially cautious with the sudden clearing of the night sky, making every movement visible from Izeling Tower. The tall brick wall that surrounded his estate was manned by guards. But their first target was the battlements. If they attacked the guards at the walls first, those on the battlements would send out the alarm. The best strategy was to get in covertly, then silence the men on the battlements.
Dane growled right behind him, his fire-gold eyes narrowed on the gate as a dozen Legionnaires loitered, obviously those who’d just come off duty, awaiting the women. He’d shifted back into human form, but his beast simmered on the surface.
Vietka laughed raucously as if inebriated, though the woman was as sober as could be. The gate opened. Mikhail’s muscles tensed, the need to invade a primal urge. Vietka’s girls and Sienna meandered in, crooning and giggling to the Legionnaires.
“New girl, eh?” said one of the guards, offering his arm to Sienna.
“Bloody hell,” growled Nikolai. “She’d better hurry the fuck up.”
As if she’d heard Nikolai’s impatience, Vietka lifted her skirt, pretending to adjust her stocking and garter. “Brontus, luv!” she called out.
Brontus was the lead guard on this shift, the one who was most experienced and the most dangerous, according to her. Vietka never serviced the men, and she typically had one of the girls bring back the weekly wages. She’d said her girls wouldn’t be able to lure Brontus out the gate easily. But she could. He’d always had an eye for her.
The tall vampire sauntered out the still-open gate. Even from here, Mikhail could smell the man’s lust for her driving him forward.
“You got something for me, Vietka?”
She straightened. With one hand on her hip, her breasts thrust up, she crooked a finger at Brontus. “Was thinkin’ you might come keep me company tonight.”
He strolled closer, body still in an alert posture. “You’ve never come looking for me before.”
“I’ve never been without a good man in me bed this long.”
He scoffed, stopping right in front of her. “A good man?”
“By good,” she lilted sweetly, “I mean one who can keep it up long enough for a girl to get some relief. You think you’re good enough for the job?”
“Aye.” His hands found her hips, lust making him sloppy. “Let me get just a taste of you, then I’ll take you on inside.”
“Come on, then,” she took his hand and dragged him toward the shadow of the trees.
His eyes were locked on her. He smelled and heard the danger too late. Before he could even draw his blade, Riker was behind him, one hand on his forehead, snapping his head back, and slicing through his jugular with the other. Vietka leaped back as Riker cut the rest of the way with a serrated blade, completely taking the sergeant’s head off before he dropped it next to his crumpled headless body without a whisper of exertion.
“Now,” said Mikhail, noting the gate slightly ajar as Brontus had left it.
As one, they shot in a blur through the gate and set upon the lingering guards. Vietka’s women didn’t make a sound, as she’d ordered them not to. No cries or screams to alert more guards as, one by one, Mikhail and his men put them down and dragged their bodies into the shadows near the castle wall. All within seconds.
Wiping his bloody blade on his pants, Mikhail turned to the group of silent, wide-eyed women. “Best get back to town, ladies.”
They didn’t wait, slinking out the gate and down the road where Vietka waited for them. All except Sienna, who stood silent as the grave with her red cloak and hood shrouded around her. Nikolai stood protectively behind her, scanning the area for signs of other guards.
Yuri was at Mikhail’s shoulder, pointing to the right. “South battlement entrance.”
They strategically planned to take down the guards on each battlement overlooking the four corners of the Izeling grounds. If all seemed well from the battlements, then no reinforcements would be alerted. They could get in, get Mina and Izzy, and get out much swifter. The longer this took, the slimmer their chances were of getting back out alive. Speed was crucial.
With Mikhail at the helm, they entered the south turret door and wound in vampire speed up to the first landing. Yuri, Gregoravich, and Dane nodded with ten other guardsmen behind them, taking the first-tier battlement. Izeling Tower had a lower and upper tier of battlements. Mikhail swept up to the highest landing and pushed out into the night. Three guards swiveled from the parapet overlook, but they were no match for the fury riding Mikhail.
Before Nikolai, Riker, or the other guardsmen could even fall out fully onto the square, Mikhail had gutted one and slit the throat of a second. He turned on the third, but Nikolai swept in behind him and cracked his neck, dropping his body soundlessly to the ground. Riker finished off the gutted guard before his moans could be heard.
An upper passage led to the next battlement. Mikhail strode on swift feet, hearing the scuffling below and someone gasping for breath as the others were making quick work of the Legionnaires. Soundlessly, they sped through the shadows, finding five Legionnaires guarding the next tower. Dane kept back near Sienna while Nikolai fought alongside Riker, sweeping wide and dispatching the Legionnaires with little to no effort at all. They met back on the next passage leading to the north battlement.
“Either these men have seen few battles or they’ve never been trained properly,” said Nikolai, ten-inch blades in both hands.
“I’d say a little of both.” Mikhail glanced behind them at the crumpled bodies they left in their wake. “Dominik has spent his time raiding human villages and taking them prisoner. It will be the vampires infected with sanguine furorem and his compulsion elixir who will be the true challenge.”
“Seems he’s keeping them all at Dragon’s Eye,” said Riker.
“He didn’t expect an invasion this quickly,” added Mikhail. “We just need to—”
A harrowing scream pierced the clear night, raising goose flesh on his neck.
“Mina.”
Without thought, he fled like a madman toward the sound, the north battlement. Spilling out onto the large square, his heart plummeted. Two Legionnaires were cuffing Mina onto her back onto some sort of table. Mina’s expression—half horror, half fear—ripped him open. Dominik stood behind her, unbuckling his sword belt. In a flash, Mikhail took in the priest, the matrimonial cloth on the ground, and the queen’s determined expression as she stepped toward a stone table, where little Izzy was chained. Good God. He’d been right. She was going to kill Izzy and use her blood with black magic. And Dominik was about to consummate his forced marriage to Mina on the battlement.
“Over my fucking dead body.”
A new kind of hatred expanded in his chest. The kind that razed villages to nothing but blood and ash. The kind that overwhelmed all else within its vicinity, sucking the enemy into a gaping maw of black, black death. The kind that made him uncage his beast and push aside the man. His claws pricked, his fangs sharpened, and he knew his eyes rolled black with the beast.
Mikhail bounded across the space, unsheathing his double sword, throwing the scabbard into the air, but was tumbled to the ground mid-leap by Radomir.