Chapter Nineteen
“Leave?” Brenna felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach churning with anxiety. “I’m not leaving. Have you lost your mind?” She planted her hands on her hips, squaring herself in front of him. “I need to find Helena.”
She ignored Grant, smirking off to the side, leaning against the bookshelf. Mikhail remained stone-like and silent near the door. And Friedrich stood with his hands casually in his pockets, staring down at her with an odd expression of bemused severity.
“Brennalyn, I will find Helena. But in order to do that, I’ll be leaving here. And I’ll need my men. Half of the guard will take you and the children to the Black Lily’s hidden training camp far to the southeast. It’s the only place where you will be safe from these huntsmen roving the northern territories. I simply can’t leave you here at the castle. It’s too dangerous now. These last huntsmen were too close.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “But Helena. What if she needs me when you find her? I’m her mother.”
Friedrich read the desperation in her eyes. She could tell the way the lines turned down around his eyes and the tight line of his mouth softened as he gazed at her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is the safest course for you and the other children.”
She paced away from him then back, crossing her arms. “So what’s your plan? Let me hear it.”
He rubbed his index finger with his signet ring across his chin as if considering.
She scoffed. “Don’t even think about withholding information from me, Your Grace.” She narrowed her eyes in warning. “This is my child. I want to know what the plan is.”
Grant chuckled. Friedrich shot him a look, then he strode to her with long, powerful strides.
She backed up, bumping her bottom on his desk and gripping the lip with her hands. He stopped within an inch of her, eating up her space the way he liked to do, leaned close, his arm reaching behind her where he snatched a piece of parchment and stepped back, holding it out to her. Her heart rate tripled with that little episode. She took the parchment, recognizing it at once.
“It’s an invitation to a ball at Izeling Tower. My uncle’s castle.”
“A ball?” she asked, lowering her gaze to the thick-woven paper with perfect filigree in the corners and silvery ink that shimmered by the candlelight.
“Yes. When my uncle was here last, he mentioned it so I was expecting the invitation. Apparently, my grandmother, the queen, plans to make some sort of royal announcement. And that has my teeth on edge as well.”
Brenna tilted her head, considering. It was never good when a woman dangled a secretive proclamation like a minnow to a crocodile. Especially a woman like Queen Morgrid.
“So you plan to go to the ball and then what?”
“We managed to get the prisoner in the dungeon to tell us Helena has been taken to my uncle’s stronghold.”
Brenna stepped forward in eagerness, clenching her hands into her skirts as she often did when she was nervous or agitated. “So you believe she’s alive.” Her voice broke but she held her emotion in check.
Friedrich nodded deeply. “Yes. We are sure of it. One of the Bloodguard has the ability to see flashes of memory. He saw that she was taken away unharmed. And our prisoner downstairs verified that any captive with the scent they were seeking was to be brought back to my uncle’s fortress unscathed.”
She moved to the settee and sank down, whispering on a heavy exhale, “Thank God.” Her gaze snapped back up. “Then why did he kill Marianne at the town ball?”
“That was a mistake on his part. The blood madness got the best of him.”
Brenna shuddered at the memory of the poor girl on the dancefloor, red pooling around her pretty dress and golden hair. Shaking the vision away, refusing to believe Helena would end up the same, she asked, “So you believe she’s being held at Izeling Tower?”
He moved to sit in the chaise across from her, keeping his distance. “No. We believe she’s being held at a fortress where the other villagers are also being held captive. The people he’s enslaved to feed his growing army. Likely it is also where he’s doing the training of his new vampires.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands casually and speaking on an intimate level. “But we need to discover some idea of where this fortress is. The north is too vast and we’ll waste too much time if we go searching without any clues to its whereabouts. But a ball will be filled with vampire royalty, soldiers, and human aristocracy loyal to the crown. With the overflow of wine and merriment, it is likely I’ll be able to get the information easily enough.”
Brenna glanced down at the invitation. “The ball is in just three days’ time.”
“Correct,” interjected Grant, from his position now next to the hearth, “which means King Dominik will almost assuredly be overseeing preparations at Izeling Tower rather than interrogating prisoners at his stronghold, wherever that may be.”
“King Dominik oversees his balls? Since when do men care about such things?”
Friedrich nodded to the invitation still in her hand. “Because his mother, the queen, will be there for some kind of an announcement. I need to be there regardless, or it would be suspicious.”
She folded the invitation in her lap and straightened her posture. “Right. So you, the wayward nephew who has been under suspicion on occasion, plans to somehow divine where this secret fortress is right under your uncle’s nose. That’s your plan.”
A scowl pressed between his eyes as he shifted back on the sofa, draping an arm along the back as he was wont to do. “Yes. You have another plan?”
She skated her glance to Grant and to Mikhail, who still held silent but who certainly absorbed every word. “What you need is someone who is unknown to your uncle and the vampire royalty, someone who might be able to distract a royal with her feminine assets and get the information—”
“No.” His blue eyes silvered to flint.
“Consider it, Friedrich. I could wear an alluring dress. You could tell me the best target since you’ll know everyone. I could—”
“No.” He shot to his feet and paced toward his desk.
“I’d be the perfect bait. I could play the role of one of your favorite bleeders, a vapid noble lady only interested in balls and parties.”
He turned and scoffed, hands low on his hips. “You couldn’t play a vapid lady if you tried.”
Brenna arched a brow at him before inhaling a deep breath, wiping her expression clean of anxiety. She relaxed her posture and walked toward him, swaying her hips seductively, smiling at him with sex in her eyes. “Oh, darling,” she drawled, “I just adore your castle.” She reached him and placed both hands on his chest, molding her frame against his side, petting over his pectoral and down his abdomen, a simpering smile in place. “It’s so hard and strong. Just like its owner. I’d do just anything to stay within your safe protection, Your Grace.”
Friedrich stared at her, speechless, an unreadable expression hardening his regal face.
Grant let out a bark of laughter. “She’s good.”
“Very good,” added Mikhail, clearing his throat.
That seemed to break the spell. Friedrich gripped her by the waist and lifted her away from his body.
“Regardless of how well you can use your charms, you’ve forgotten the most important factor.” Simmering fury radiated from the taut line of his body and the sharp angles of his face. “Your scent, Miss Snow.”
Her gut clenched. She had forgotten.
“The second you step into the ballroom, my uncle will recognize the scent of the White Lily in his presence.”
“Well,” interjected Mikhail, stepping closer. “Not necessarily.”
Friedrich shot him a daggered look. Mikhail didn’t flinch but had the temerity to raise his brow in a way that told her Friedrich wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“What does he mean, Friedrich? There’s another way, isn’t there?”
“Oh, there’s another way,” said Grant, sounding like the devil with a delicious secret.
“There’s no time for that,” Friedrich snapped to them, turning his attention away from her. If it was possible for the man to tighten his posture anymore, he might break in half. “The ball begins three nights from now and there’s a half day of travel.”
“You’re a Varis,” said Grant, shoving off the shelf and heading for the door, his expression dark and grave. “There is time.” He paused when he swung the door open. “I’ll ready the children. They’ll need to leave tonight. No time to delay.”
“Tonight?” Panic gripped Brenna. Everything was happening so fast.
Mikhail stepped forward, facing Friedrich. “I’ll assemble the team who will escort them, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mikhail. I need you and Dmitri with me. Gregorovich will lead the children’s escort party.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He snapped a bow and left, closing the door behind him.
Brennalyn faced him, his hands clasped at his back. Electric tension rippled between them though his expression remained hard and unyielding. Afraid to ask, she did it anyway.
“What did they mean? How might I go with you?” She swallowed hard, but there was no saliva left in her mouth.
He studied her with those flinty eyes, yet heat simmered behind his shuttered coolness. “There is a way I could mask your scent.”
“There is?” She swallowed again. Still no saliva, her throat gone bone dry. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know the answer the way he seemed to be coiled so tight, a predator gauging when to pounce.
“If I mark you as my own, no vampire would smell anything but me on your skin and under it for that matter.”
She licked her lips. “I see.” His gaze flicked to the movement. “And h-how do you make that happen?”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, not just me. You must be a full participant as well.”
“So you mean sex.”
His grin broadened, and she felt it like a caress against her skin. “No, kitten. Not just sex. I mean complete and absolute submission. No holding back. No withdrawing emotionally. Physically. No walls erected between us.” He sauntered closer to where she was frozen still. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And that’s not all.”
She blinked hard then asked, “What else is there?”
“Normally, this type of marking occurs between a vampire and his mistress over a few weeks or months, sometimes years of being lovers.”
“But, but we only have a few days,” she sputtered.
“Correct.”
“It’s impossible.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets and ambled toward the hearth. He stared down in deep concentration as if divining something in the flames.
“No. It’s not. Grant’s right. Varis blood runs through my veins.” He turned, pinning her with a potent stare. “If you open yourself entirely to my body, and my bite, it can be done, though it would most probably take the next two days up until the time we must leave.”
“Two days!”
He faced her, his smoldering smile having replaced the iciness. “Oh, yes. Two whole days. And nights. In my bed.”
She tried to let that sink in. Two whole days—and nights—of Friedrich’s hands, body, mouth, teeth. And no barriers of any kind. Her pulse quickened with trepidation. She’d been doing her damnedest to keep the vampire duke at arm’s length, to keep him away from her soft, tender organ beneath her ribcage. The crushing pain she’d felt when Elliott abandoned her would be nothing compared to what she’d feel if she opened herself to Friedrich and he did the same. Fear skated up her spine, dampening her brow in a cold sweat.
He stepped closer, capturing her gaze but keeping his hands in his pockets. “I would rather send you with Gregorovich and the children to the Black Lily.” He studied her, shoulders tight once more before he inhaled a deep lungful of air and exhaled heavily. “But you’re right. The king will likely be watching me. You would be able to move around the ball and speak to important allies of his more freely. More easily. My uncle knows me. I never entertain the same bleeders for very long. He recently chastised me for not having my own Blood Harem.”
Brenna winced. The idea of him having several women housed at Winter Hill to satisfy his lust for flesh and blood felt like swallowing a bramble of thorns that happened to lodge in her throat. “And do most royals have a harem?”
“Oh, yes. My uncle’s is quite large. He’s always found me odd for not keeping one.”
“And why haven’t you?”
“Because I find the practice repugnant.” There was anger behind his words. Rage, even.
“If you’re going to demand that I drop all barriers, then I demand that you do the same,” she said softly as she stepped within an inch of him, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “Why do you find it so repugnant when it is a common practice for royals?”
The bite of anger and pain flickered over his face. He clenched his jaw before grating out, “Because my father kept a harem. A large one that he continually refilled with new beauties.” He exhaled a weighty sigh. “And I saw what it did to my mother.”
She slid her hand up to his neck. “And will your uncle think it strange for you to have marked someone? As your—as your own?” She could hardly get the words out, much less absorb their meaning.
“My uncle has always thought me strange, so it matters little. You simply have to do your best acting job in that you’re nothing more than another aristocrat leeching onto a vampire duke for his riches and power.”
She winced at that, but kept close. “That sounds rather awful.”
He cupped her face, fingers threading into her hair. “You’ll need to blend in with the other nobles, talking about nonsense, talking about yourself, condescending to servants, snubbing your nose at anyone less titled. You can’t be Brennalyn. You can’t reveal the caring, compassionate, beautiful person you are within. Or they’ll know. He will know.” His thumbs brushed along her cheekbones, stroking tenderly but his firm grip demanded her focus. “Can you do that? Can you push aside everything you are?”
“For Helena. Yes. I can do anything.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, releasing a ragged breath. “Doing it this way, in this time frame…it may be exhausting. Overwhelming for you. But I will make the experience as pleasant as I can. As gentle as I can.”
She wanted to laugh, knowing somehow that this marking would be anything but gentle. It would scrape her down to her soul to lay herself so bare—physically and emotionally. And she knew there would be pleasure. Of that, she had no doubt. Anticipation had her pulse thrumming faster. She let the sensation of Friedrich’s promise wrap around her like a warm cloak as she banded her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek into his sternum, hearing his own rapid heartbeat. Perhaps, he was a little nervous, too.
“I trust you, Friedrich.”
And she truly did.