Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dominik slung Mina on the bed, his bed, a behemoth piece of furniture with tree-trunk-thick posts and laden with red silk curtains. His bedchamber was dark and opulent, dripping with black satin, red brocade, and crystal chandeliers. Even so, gray morning light peeked through the heavy folds of draperies. They’d traveled at vampire speed without resting at all. The trip to Izeling Tower should’ve taken longer, but Dominik was far stronger and faster than she’d realized.
He towered above her, hands on both hips, the firelight casting his silhouette in shadow. She could see nothing but his flaring eyes and gleaming smile, canines still sharp. She shivered. They’d hurt puncturing into her neck. Not like Mikhail, who eased into her slowly. Dominik bit with brutal force, seeming to enjoy her pain.
“Where’s the little girl, Izzy, you kidnapped?”
“Get cleaned up, little dove. Mother requests your presence.”
“Tell me what you’ve done with her.”
“Get cleaned up, and I’ll show you,” he said with a grin, watching and waiting.
Three maids hurried into the room, carrying buckets of steaming water into the connecting chamber, keeping their heads bowed. She heard the rush of water as it poured into the tub.
Her eyes darted back to him. She lifted her chin. “I’m not bathing in front of you.”
He laughed, the hard sound twisting her insides into a nest of snakes. “No?” He bent over, bracketing his hands on either side of her hips, his massive frame threatening. “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.”
Her breathing accelerated, fearing whatever command he was about to give her. Because she knew she would obey, even as she screamed on the inside. She’d heard of people dying from defying Dominik’s commands while under the thrall of his elixir. She had to survive.
His gaze roamed down her neck to her heaving chest then back up, locking his malevolent eyes to hers. “If I tell you to lean back and spread your legs, you’ll do it.”
She shook her head, tears pricking.
He only smiled wider. “If I tell you to get on your knees and suck my cock, you’ll do that, too.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to even out her breathing, trying to keep the welling panic at bay.
“Open your eyes, little dove.”
They popped open without her even thinking it, her body already obeying his will.
“No, Your Majesty,” she said with a plea in her eyes, using his title as some way to appeal to his ego. “I am the Queen of Arkadia. You can’t—”
His hand clamped under her jaw, arresting her speech.
“Yes. I heard about your ascension to the throne. Did you think it would help you and your traitorous friends who are allied to the Black Lily?”
She could say nothing with his giant paw holding her jaw in place. His fingers loosened, and he slid his hand down her throat, his fingers nearly encapsulating it.
“Who did you spread your legs for, Vilhelmina?” Malice laced his voice now, sending a tremble of dread through her frame.
“Mikhail Romanov, Captain of the Bloodguard.”
His countenance darkened to a murderous glare. “The one who took you from Briar Rose?”
“Yes.”
“And killed my fucking men,” he growled, fingers tightening.
“Yes,” she rasped, feeling some kind of triumph in telling him who he was and what he’d done.
“You’d best forget him. You’ll be my queen soon enough.” He grinned, voice dropping even deeper. “You’ll be my woman after tonight.” He roughly let her go and stood, bellowing to the three maids standing at the entrance. “Scrub her good.” He started for the door, boots clomping on the slate floor. “And get the stink of that bloody vampire off her.”
…
Though the snowstorm had cleared, it had muddled the trail. Mikhail paused as the craggy silhouette of the Novak foothills rose up in the night. He halted their party with a hand in the air, having caught a whiff on the wind. Not of Mina, but of another familiar scent.
“Captain!” yelled Yuri, off to the right, kneeling in the shadow of a cliff face.
Speeding to his side, his gut clenched at the sight. Gavril on his back, one leg folded backward, a pool of blood seeped into the snow beneath his head. The near-full moon shining through vaporous clouds illuminated his deathly pallor. Yuri had a finger to his pulse, listening.
“It’s faint, Captain. But he’s alive.” Desperation rang in his voice, for he and Gavril had also been close friends. “Gavril, can you hear me?”
Mikhail reined in the thoughts of Gavril stealing Mina away from him and handing her over to Dominik. Not to mention wounding his blood brothers. Dmitri had assured him none of the guardsmen at her tent were killed. Their necks and legs had been broken so that they couldn’t heal quickly enough to set off a warning in the camp.
Gavril’s eyes opened to narrow slits, pain etched in his brow when he looked beyond Yuri to Mikhail standing at his side. “God, no.” His voice was little more than a weak rasp. He closed his eyes. “Leave me.”
Mikhail knelt and gripped his shoulder. “Listen to me, Gavril. You did not betray your brothers. Or the queen.” He squeezed his shoulder harder. Gavril opened his eyes, despair swimming there. “Or me, my brother. You had no choice. You could’ve killed your blood brothers, for I imagine Dominik ordered you to silence anyone in the way. Correct?”
Gavril didn’t move or speak, his hopeless gaze unmoving from Mikhail.
“You’re going to survive. Then make amends and fight alongside your brothers again.”
A faint nod, then he pointed up. “Bring Gregory…up there.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper.
Mikhail glanced over his shoulder. “Soren!”
The broad-shouldered vampire snapped to his side. “Yes, Captain.”
“I need you to carry Gavril back to Katya. She’ll be sure he’s tended to.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He helped Yuri gingerly lift the battered man to Soren’s shoulder, then they flashed away.
“Gregory!”
“Over here,” he bellowed from off to the left.
Mikhail and Yuri joined him where he was already climbing, having found a particularly jagged facing.
Gregoravich glanced down. “I can smell traces of the queen.”
Mikhail leaped up, climbing fast. “Gavril said to go up.” He gripped each notch in the mountain and launched himself up, clamoring to the top first.
He gasped, inhaling deeply of that sweet jasmine and sunshine scent. Something half covered in the whirling snow caught his eye. Kneeling, he lifted the dagger he’d given her and smelled the drop of blood at its tip. Not her blood. But certainly not a death wound by the mere drop left here.
Gregoravich was at his side, puffing out a great lungful of air.
“Damn, Captain. You were up that cliff like a cat.”
Yuri followed.
“Here, Gregory. Touch here.” He pointed to the snow where the dagger had lain, sliding the dagger into his belt.
Gregory did so without hesitation, bowing his head as he read the memory upon this ground. His shoulders tightened and heartbeat accelerated. Mikhail’s own pulse kept pace, fearing the worst. When Gregory lifted his head, his eyes were sparking with blue flame, wild with otherworld energy vibrating through him.
“Tell me,” commanded Mikhail. “Everything.”
“It is definitely King Dominik.” Gregoravich stood, and Mikhail with him. “He…he bit the queen and injected her with his elixir. She is under his thrall.”
A fierce growl erupted from Mikhail’s gut and up his throat.
“They definitely took her to Izeling.” His expression grew sharper under the moonlight. “And they tossed Gavril over the cliff. Assuming we would kill him if he survived the fall.”
Mikhail suffered a pang of remorse for thinking ill of Gavril even for a second. “The king doesn’t know us.”
They stepped away toward the edge. Mikhail gripped Gregoravich by the forearm, asking low, “Did he hurt her?”
The pitiable look on his face told him enough, tightening every muscle in Mikhail’s body.
“He was not gentle with her, Captain,” he finally said quietly.
Mikhail vibrated with restrained violence, his voice low and lethal. “Yuri.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Lead the way. We need to find a way into that tower.”
A surge of fresh fire burned through his body, igniting his need for vengeance. To bludgeon. Claw. Maim. Until nothing was left of the infamous butcher king. It was time to wipe his kind from this world. Not just for the people of Varis, but for Mina. He would regret ever touching her.
Before Mikhail cleaved his skull in two, he’d make sure the bastard understood just that.