Chapter Seven
Mina warmed her hands at the fire Gavril had built. He placed another small log on the flames, nodded to her, then found a tree to lean against. That one was the most elusive of them all. He was polite but withdrawn. Mina wondered what tragedies these men had endured. One thing she knew for certain, it was their shared hardship that united them as one in the Bloodguard. She sensed the familial brotherhood binding them each to one another. She envied them.
Aleksei and Dmitri dozed, backs against tree trunks and arms crossed. If they fell under attack again, she knew they’d be on their feet in a split second. Gavril stared into the flames. Gregoravich was on guard down the small incline, facing the southwest in case King Dominik’s Legionnaires should finally catch up to them, though none of them feared that they would. And Mikhail had gone to the nearby brook to wash his wounds from the attack. The others had done so already. Mikhail had kept guard, falling into silence—avoiding her gaze—while Gavril had tended the fire.
Mina glanced in the direction of the brook that trickled softly nearby. She couldn’t see him. Shifting in her cozy spot, she considered finding her way down to that stream where he was.
“Don’t be anxious, Your Highness,” said Dmitri, his eyes still closed. “We’re safe for now.”
“Oh, I’m not anxious.”
His eyes slid open. “No?” A lopsided grin creased his masculine face. “You sure seem it. That heartbeat of yours is pumping hard.”
Taken aback, she fiddled with her sleeve. “Though I’ve endured quite a bit, it’s not often I’m attacked by rabid vampires.”
He chuckled. “Guess not. Happens to us all the time.” He winked. Glancing down to where her fingers pulled at the cuff of her emerald nightgown, he jerked his chin. “What is it with you royals and dragons?”
She stared down at the wide cuff where the white dragon sigil with emerald gems for eyes winked up at her. She’d embroidered this one herself.
She smiled, remembering something. “You know, there’s actually a story behind the dragon sigils of the north and south?”
“Is there?”
“My nurse used to tell me the old tale when I was a little girl.”
“Well, I’m no little girl, but I like a good story.” Crossing his arms, he settled lower on the tree trunk.
“Very well.” Mina cleared her throat. “Once, a long, long time ago, there lived a great silver dragon full of fire and magic. He lived in a kingdom in the clouds far from humans or vampirekind. There were no other dragons left in the world. Only him. And he was lonely. He yearned for companionship.
“So he decided to fly down from his pillowed lair in the sky down to Earth. He searched and searched though he knew not for what. Until one day, he heard the most beautiful voice, a maiden’s sweet melody, calling to his beastly heart.
“He followed the voice until he found the fair maid perched at the window of a single ivory tower with no doors anywhere, only one window. She wasn’t afraid when she saw the great beast land upon the ground with a shudder.
“‘You sing like an angel,’ said the dragon.
“‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘You have beautiful wings.’
“‘Come fly with me,’ he pleaded. ‘I will show you the beauty beyond the clouds.’
“She sighed sadly. ‘I cannot. I have been cursed to stay in this tower until the prince of this land fetches me for my wedding day. If I should leave, great peril would come to me.’
“The dragon snorted with fury, black smoke puffing from his nostrils. ‘But aren’t you lonely in this tower?’
“‘Indeed, I am. Perhaps you can visit me, dragon, and keep me company.’
“‘I will come every day,’ promised the dragon.
“And so he did. Every day for a full year, through winter, spring, summer, and when the leaves began to change in fall, he flew down from the heavens to visit his maiden. She sang for him. And he told her stories of old. She had captured his heart. And he hers. She was the only reason he rose each morning, eager for a new day.
“Until the one day when he landed outside her tower and didn’t find her perched in her window, waiting for him. Rather, he heard her crying within. He peered inside and asked her why she cried, for the sound tore him in two.
“‘I am to be wed to the prince tomorrow,’ she whispered, ‘but I love another.’
“The dragon’s blood raced like wildfire through his veins. ‘Who do you love, dear maiden?’
“She stepped into the morning light of the window. ‘I love the one who is devoted to me. I love you, dear dragon.’
“The dragon couldn’t believe such joy existed in all the world. So he tried to give her the same joy. ‘I love you as well, sweet maiden. Please come with me to my kingdom in the clouds, then you never need marry this prince you do not love.’
“The maiden stared up into the heavens, a sad but sweet smile spreading across her angelic face then she answered, ‘Yes. I will.’
“The dragon was so full of happiness, he crouched down by her tower window and told her to climb onto his back. Gingerly, she stepped onto his back and held onto his mane. Then the dragon, full of joy and love, lifted off into the sky.
“But the maiden didn’t tell him what would happen should she defy the curse. The consequence of leaving her tower before she was wed to the prince was death. But since her heart belonged to the silver dragon, she preferred to die with him in the sky than to live without him upon Earth. And so she did. As they drifted through the beautiful heavens, she cradled herself close to her dragon and whispered her love before she took her last breath.”
Mina paused, always feeling somber at this point in the story.
“That’s it?” asked Dmitri. “That’s how the story ends?”
“Not quite.” Mina smiled. “The silver dragon cried out with fury and sadness and plummeted back down to the world, landing in a dark forest. He lay his maiden love upon the ground and dug her grave deep with his mighty claws. When he lay her in the earth, he said, ‘Without her, there is no use for this anymore.’ He slashed his claws across his chest and opened up his flesh and ribs, taking out his still-beating heart and placed it in the earth, burying it with his love. Upon his last sweep of soil upon the grave, the heartless beast roared into the sky, screaming his rage and pain and loss to the heavens. Without his heart, he could not live, but he was still full of fire and magic. As he rocketed toward the stars, he suddenly split in two. The silver dragon became a black dragon of fire and a white dragon of magic. The black dragon, a beast of fury and hatred, soared to the north, trying to cool his burning blood. He landed in the northern mountains and stormed the peaks till he melted into them, becoming one with the rock and stone.
“The white dragon sought warmth and peace in the south. She finally came upon a fragrant, green place full of roses and life. There, she lay down and became one with the earth and let her magic flourish upon the land and its people.”
The fire popped as the story ended. Dmitri stared at her, but his mind seemed to drift as he thought of the silver dragon and her maiden.
“The hartstone.” He finally broke the silence. “The dragon’s heart became the hartstone.”
“Yes. That’s how the story goes anyway.” Mina shrugged. “My nurse used to say that the first king of Briar Rose lay with his bride upon the meadows there and conceived their first child upon where the white dragon reposed. That is why the white dragon’s magic lives on in our blood.” She laughed. “I always thought it a silly tale, but somehow true. Is that strange?”
Dmitri snorted. “I’ve seen much stranger things in my time.” He tossed another log onto the fire. “Thanks for the story, Your Highness.”
“You’re welcome.” Mina stood, catching sight of the dark red splotches upon her wrist. “I need to wash.”
“Mikhail is down by the stream. He’ll keep you safe.” Dmitri leaned his head back, closing his eyes with a smile. “Trust me.”
She moved off, mumbling, “I don’t doubt it.”
How could she after that display of expedient extermination of the savage rogues that had attacked them. These five men of the Bloodguard had dispatched them as if they’d been sparring in a yard exercise. And from what Dmitri had mentioned earlier that day, there were quite a few more of them who made up this band of mercenaries.
As she picked her way closer to the brook on silent feet, she couldn’t see them simply as mercenaries. Especially not after what she’d learned of them. Yes, they were killers. And possibly for hire by the highest bidder. But they were also men of the upper crust. Every one of them she’d met. She could tell in their mannerisms and speech. She also noticed they’d refused to drop her title, keeping formalities in place. Probably on orders by their captain. And that brought her to the train of thought that their alliance with the Black Lily had little to do with money and more to do with the cause.
Of course, the cause of the Black Lily was to bring the humans out of oppression, to do away with the tyrannous rule of Queen Morgrid, to offer humanity a chance at equality. That didn’t explain why a band of aristocratic vampire renegades were allying with them.
She stepped from behind a tree where Mikhail’s long, roughened leather coat hung on a branch. As she stepped clear of the overhanging flap, she froze.
Heaven above, Mikhail’s maker smiled the day he made him.
He crouched over the stream, naked from the waist up. Mina drank in the breathless sight. Lateral muscles bunched and flexed as he wrung his shirt with a tight twist of his hands over the brook. The lines of his muscled back were exquisite. She couldn’t imagine what the front of him would look like. She wouldn’t have to wait long.
“You’d make a terrible assassin, Your Highness.”
He stood and whipped out the excess water with a sharp smack of the shirt tail in the air as he turned toward her. It was his turn to freeze in place.
“Don’t do that,” he warned.
“Do what?” she asked, unable to keep from letting her gaze wander down the hard planes of his broad chest, along the sinuous line down the center of his chiseled abs, and to the top of a muscular V disappearing into his low-slung pants.
“You know damn well what. Don’t look at me that way.”
She shrugged, helplessly. “You’re…beautiful.”
He made no reply, firming his lips together, as if the compliment distressed him. Slinging his wet shirt over one shoulder, he marched toward her. “It’s best we get back to the others.”
Best for whom?
“No. I need to clean up. Some blood got on my hands as well.” She raised a palm to show him the faint blood spatter staining her palm and wrist where she’d held up a hand right before Dmitri had cut the vampire’s jugular. Funny how all that violence hadn’t unsettled her at all. If anything, her senses had heightened, relishing the fall of those brutal rogues. Nothing seemed to get her blood pumping hard like the man standing before her.
“Fine,” he growled. “Go wash.”
She untied her cloak and hung it over the branch next to his coat. Stepping toward the edge of the brook, she kneeled on the earthy bank. She caught her unbound hair as it slid over one shoulder toward the water. Irena’s maid had woven tiny braids along her temples but had left the rest in its natural waves. She couldn’t keep her hair from trailing into the stream while washing.
“Captain? Will you help me?” She gestured toward her hair.
He didn’t move at first, staring as he contemplated the request. Finally, he blew out a heavy breath and strode to her side. Kneeling on one knee next to her left hip, his other leg cocked up at her back, he pulled her hair back with one hand, his fist resting between her shoulder blades.
She said not a word but pushed up her sleeves near to her elbows and set to cleaning her hands thoroughly. She then leaned farther over. He anchored her, pressing the fist still holding her hair farther down her back. She splashed the cold water on her face, sucking in a breath at the refreshing chill. Cupping her hands, she drank from the clear-running stream.
Their long run had caused her to sweat, despite the cold. And while she knew what she did next would rouse the man at her back, that was precisely what she wanted.
Slowly, she pulled one sleeve off her shoulder, then the other. Scooping the cold water with her cupped hands, she splashed her neck and chest. A deep growl reverberated from the vampire behind her. The sound hummed up her spine and tingled along her skin till her nipples peaked under her gown. Instantly, electric warmth coiled low in her belly. Her breath quickening, she leaned forward and did it again, splashing even more water up and over her bare shoulders, over the top of her small breasts.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” his words grated like gravel over stone.
She brought another scoop of water to drink and to moisten her lips before twisting her head over her shoulder, meeting his dark, hungry gaze. She said not a word, her thoughts surely evident in her eyes as she flicked her tongue over her lips. Then she let her gown slip farther down one shoulder.
“I take that back.” His expression hardened, his voice husky and smooth. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t you?”
“I told you last night. There’s something between us. I’m not going to pretend it’s not there. That would be a lie.”
“So you tempt me on purpose?”
“Yes,” she answered, unashamedly. “If I must.”
He pulled back on her hair gently, arching her neck and clenching his jaw as he leaned his head closer. “This is dangerous.”
Rather than cower or succumb to his stormy countenance and menacing voice, she read his true emotions beating a steady drum in the air—fear and potent, hard lust. Empowered by her own instinct, she turned and lifted up onto her knees, facing him, his hand still clutching her hair. She brought her wet forefinger to his parted lips. Tracing gently till he opened wider, she slipped her finger inside and glided the pad along his teeth till she found his protruding canines. Purposefully, she held his darkening gaze and pricked her finger on a sharpened fang. A drop of her blood pearled, but he’d not moved. She stroked the blood onto his tongue, the soft warmth pulling a moan from her throat. He sealed his lips at once around her finger and sucked deep.
The sensation of one drop of his elixir flowed through her body like welcome wildfire, licking flames in all the right places. Slowly, she slid her finger from between his lips. His breath was ragged, like hers, as she trailed her bloody fingertip along his lower lip, watching with heart-pounding fascination, till finally her eyes lifted to his.
Oh, God.
Fierce desire and hot need had never pounded against her this hard. He stared at her with such dark hunger, heat seared through her blood. Inching closer, their breaths mingled and eyes locked.
“Just a kiss, Captain.” The heat of him radiated onto her face, cheeks, lips, breasts, belly, like a raging inferno. Yes, his pulse pumped hard as his panting attested. And his desire whipped against her with lashes of aching intensity. “I want to feel it again. Now that I’m awake.”
She meant more than having her eyes opened from the bloodless sleep. She was awake like she’d never been before. Awake to her own heart’s desires. And to her body’s as well.
He gripped her hair harder, the only signal she had before he closed the inch between them. Their mouths met in a clash of teeth, fangs, and tongue, a desperate, clawing need. A kiss that could block out the world. Or begin whole new ones. Ones where a princess took what she desired, what she deserved, what she was destined to have. And to keep for all time.
She trailed her palms up his hard chest and along his flexing shoulders, settling one hand at his nape. The other she clenched in his hair as their mouths nipped and sucked. Her feminine moans mixed with his masculine ones, weaving them tighter together until he banded a strong arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body, cradling her close, both of them on their knees, his apart.
He skimmed his mouth up her jaw and down her throat, licking a wet path, laving the drops of water beading on her skin. “You’re so sweet,” he murmured.
She laced both her hands in his short hair, pressing him closer, before letting them slide down his neck to his hard chest. His groaning growl told her he approved of her exploring touches, feather-light down his abdomen.
“Yes.” She whispered her approval when his lips and tongue suckled their way over the swell of her bosom.
She had no experience with men. None. Her first kiss was the blood kiss that had awakened her. She’d heard him in the dark of her prison tower. She’d felt his lips, his mouth, his tongue, his own blood reviving her to full wakefulness, bringing her back to the world with a passion she’d not forgotten since that moment.
And here she was taking more. So unlike her. So far from the staid, poised princess who’d spent her days reading, embroidering, playing piano, and singing music, dreaming of a time when she’d feel alive. Dreaming of this. Of a man like him.
“Mikhail,” she moaned as he scraped a canine along the mound of one breast, not breaking the skin but marking her pale flesh with his sharp fang.
He licked the line along her skin. “Mina,” he whispered.
She dropped her head back on a gasp of pleasure. Her name on his lips was pure heaven. He skated up her throat, his roughened voice driving her near mad.
“Mina.”
He’d let go of her hair and eased his hand to cup the back of her head. He lifted till she met his gaze, his lips hovering close to hers, not touching.
“Mina.” His voice had dropped so low, so deep, so dark, with such power, such force, as if he owned her. And in that moment, she knew no man would ever have the right to kiss her lips, to caress her skin, to touch her body. He’d claimed her with a word, with her own name.
His ethereal gaze burned into hers as he swept his lips over hers one last time, gentling his grip in her hair and around her waist, licking into her mouth with controlled tenderness. She could’ve floated in this place of pleasure forever, but the captain finally pulled away. Panting, he composed himself and lifted her to her feet.
With slow, precise movements, he righted her sleeves up over her shoulders and pressed his palms to the sides of her neck, his fingers tightening at her nape, his thumbs brushing her collarbone, and simply stared at her. It was a look of longing and loss at once, of pain and pleasure, of hope and despair. Something was wrong, more than she could decipher by sensing his emotions. She understood his sense of duty, but she couldn’t comprehend why it hurt so much to experience a moment’s pleasure.
“Mikhail?”
He shook his head. Taking another controlled breath, he dropped his arms and marched to the tree holding her cloak and his coat. On a heavy sigh, she followed, knowing the moment was gone. He’d already shielded himself behind his mantle of control when he wrapped her in her cloak, tying it at the neck.
He shouldered into his dark-brown leather coat, the tail brushing above his knees. All of the Bloodguard had similar coats in different shades of brown and black with hoods she’d only seen them wear the night they’d rescued her.
“Come. We’re almost to Silvane Forest. Once there, you’ll be safe.”
She nodded and followed him back to the others, wondering exactly who she’d be safe from. She knew he included himself among the dangers that threatened her. What he hadn’t quite come to understand was that for once in her life, she yearned for a taste of danger.