Drake sank back on the cold stone floor, more miserable than he had ever been in his life. Yesterday had been bad. Today had been worse. He breathed a sigh of relief as the sun went down. His body twitched uncontrollably, his fangs ached. He needed blood. But worse than any of that was the knowledge that Vardin had fed on Elena, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He rested his forehead on his bent knees, thoughts of vengeance and murder chasing through his mind like mice in a maze. Closing his eyes, he imagined driving a stake through his brother’s black heart. But it wasn’t Vardin who was responsible. True, he had fed on Elena, but it was Rodin who had allowed it to happen. For all Drake knew, Rodin had suggested it. One thing was certain, Elena would not have been quartered with the sheep if Rodin hadn’t ordered it.
“Speak of the devil and he appears,” Drake muttered as his sire opened the tower door. It took every ounce of what strength he had left to gain his feet.
“I have brought you something to drink,” Rodin said.
“I want nothing from you. Nothing but Elena’s freedom.”
Closing the distance between them, Rodin held up a tankard made of gold. “Drink this.”
“No.”
“Do not make me force you.”
Drake glared at his sire. What would be worse, drinking of his own free will, or resisting? One way or the other, Rodin would have his way, and with that thought in mind, Drake reached for the goblet.
The contents were thick and cold but he drank greedily, his eyes closing as the blood took the edge off the worst of the pain. After draining the goblet, he licked his lips, then met his sire’s gaze. “How long are you going to keep me locked up?”
“That is what I have come to discuss with you,” Rodin said. Taking the goblet, he tossed it aside.
Drake took a deep breath. From Rodin’s tone, it was obvious he wasn’t going to like what was coming.
“Tomorrow night, in front of the Council, I will annul your marriage to the mortal female and formally announce your betrothal to Katiya. Since the night of the new moon has passed, you will wed at her pleasure.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I will leave you here until your flesh is dry and your veins empty and you beg me for mercy.”
“Ever the loving father,” Drake said bitterly. “Is that the worst you can do?”
“If you continue to defy me, I will give the woman to Vardin to do with as he pleases.”
“He has already fed on her,” Drake said, unable to keep the fury from his voice. “Twice!”
“You know what he is capable of. Be grateful he has done her no permanent harm.”
It took every ounce of his willpower, honed over five centuries, for Drake to choke back the rage that engulfed him. “I will never forgive you for this.”
Rodin nodded. “I have your word that you will do as I have decreed?”
“You will release Elena tomorrow and send her back to Wolfram.”
“No. I will release her the day after you and Katiya are wed.”
“I have your word?”
Rodin straightened to his full height, his eyes flashing with anger. “Do you doubt it?”
Drake snorted with contempt. “I told Elena you would treat her well, that it was not your way to make war on women.”
“I have done what was necessary. I will have your word that you will do as I have commanded.”
“You have it, on three conditions. I will marry Katiya, but then the two of us will be free to leave the Fortress.”
“So you can abandon her as soon as you are away? Do you take me for a fool?”
“I will not abandon her.”
“The woman, Elena, will pay the price if you do.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
Rodin paced to the far end of the tower, his hands clasped behind his back. Returning to stand in front of Drake, he said, “You may leave the Fortress when Katiya is with child. In the meantime, there is the matter of the Council. . . .”
“That’s the second condition. I do not belong on the Council and we both know it. There is no law that says all the members must be of your direct bloodline. Liam would be an admirable addition.”
Rodin grunted softly. Liam was a liaison between Rodin and Lucien, the Master Vampire of the Italian Fortress.
“And your third condition?”
“Elena will not be quartered with the sheep, or used as sustenance by anyone. She is to have the run of the Fortress, and all her needs met. She is . . . was . . . my wife and I will have her treated with the respect she deserves.”
“Very well. Now I have a condition of my own. You will not attempt to see her.”
“I demand the right to bid her farewell when she leaves.”
“Need I remind you that you are in no position to demand anything?”
Drake clenched his jaw, then blew out a breath. “Must I beg for the opportunity to tell her good-bye?”
“No,” Rodin said through clenched teeth. “I will allow it.”
“I would ask one more favor. She will need someone to take her home.”
“I will see that she arrives safely.”
“She is to have Wolfram Castle. I will need pen and paper to make it legal.”
Rodin nodded.
“I promised her the wherewithal to provide for her needs as long as she lived.”
Rodin folded his arms over his chest. “Anything else?” he asked tersely.
“No. If you will do these things for me, then I vow to take Katiya as my bride. I will see that she conceives a child. I will put her happiness before my own. You have my word on it.”
“And you have mine.” Slipping a heavy glove on his right hand, Rodin touched the thick silver leg iron that bound Drake’s ankle to the wall. The manacle fell away with a harsh clatter.
“Come,” Rodin said. “Your mother is anxious to see you.”
Elena paced the floor of the dormitory, scarcely aware of the other women who were preparing for bed. It had been a very long day, her every thought for Drake. After seeing him last night, she could think of nothing else, could not begin to imagine the pain he was feeling. How did he endure it? How had he even survived? She could not comprehend such torment, or understand how any man, vampire or not, could be so cruel to his own flesh and blood.
They had to get away from here, but how? Drake was helpless as long as he was imprisoned in the tower. There was no way she could break down the dormitory door, or fight her way through a nest of vampires. She shuddered to think what her future would be if something happened to Drake.
She lifted a hand to her neck, remembering the pain, the horror, of being bitten by Vardin. She knew now why the other sheep feared him. He was cruel, oblivious to the pain he caused. Or maybe he simply enjoyed it.
After washing her hands and face, Elena changed into the long white gown she had been given to sleep in and crawled under the covers of her narrow cot. She had been too upset to sit and talk with the other girls while they readied themselves for bed but now, as Northa blew out the last candle, Elena recalled Marta saying it wasn’t uncommon for the vampires to come for one of them in the middle of the night.
Elena folded her arms over her chest. How was she supposed to sleep knowing that Vardin or one of the other vampires might come looking for a midnight snack?
She was drifting to sleep when the dormitory door opened. She tasted fear on her tongue as someone stepped into the room. But it was only Liliana.
“Come,” the vampire said quietly.
Slipping out of bed, Elena followed Liliana into the clothing room, afraid to ask what was coming. To her surprise, Liliana thrust the clothing Elena had worn to the Fortress into her hands. “Dress quickly. The Council awaits.”
The Council. All too clearly, she recalled Drake’s words: The Council judges those who have broken our laws, and executes them, if necessary. Were they going to execute her for marrying Drake? Or worse, execute them both?
Unable to
still her trembling, she removed the nightgown and tossed it aside. She quickly donned her undergarments, then slipped the lavender silk dress over her head and smoothed it over her hips. Sitting on a low stool, she pulled on her heels, thinking how good it felt to wear her own clothes again.
When she started to rise, Liliana put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her back down, and then, to Elena’s surprise, the vampire began brushing her hair.
Feeling like a sacrifice being readied for the altar, Elena folded her hands in her lap to still their trembling.
“It is time,” the vampire said. “You will keep silent when we reach the Council chambers. Do you understand ?”
Elena nodded. Hoping her legs would support her, she followed Liliana up the winding staircase and down the candlelit corridor to the Council chambers. She hesitated when Liliana opened the cathedral-like door. Feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, she took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The first thing she saw was Drake. Clad in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, he knelt in front of the dais, head bowed, hands shackled behind his back. In the light of a hundred candles, the ravages of the sun’s heat were clearly visible. His skin was badly burned; in some places, it was almost black.
Rodin sat on his throne, as regal and powerful as any king. A girl sat in the chair beside him. She was young, surely not more than sixteen. Her hair was a rich chestnut brown, her eyes a shade lighter beneath delicately arched brows. She had an aristocratic nose, a generous mouth, a long, slender neck. Her skin was almost luminescent. Liliana’s beauty paled beside that of the younger woman.
The members of the Council, dressed in ubiquitous black, sat like statues.
When Elena would have gone to Drake, Liliana put a staying hand on her arm. “No. You must not go near him. You must not speak to him.”
And with that admonition, Liliana went to stand beside her husband’s chair.
Several moments passed before Rodin spoke. “As Master of the Coven, I call this Council to order. Drake, here present, has violated the laws of our kind in that he has taken a mortal female as his wife. As his sire and Master of this Coven, I hereby declare his marriage void from this night forward.”
Elena stared at Drake. He had told her that Rodin wouldn’t annul their marriage if it was consummated. Had he lied to her? She willed him to look at her, but his head remained bowed.
“Drake, do you, of your own free will, agree to abide by this annulment?”
“Yes, sire.”
“No!” The word was torn from Elena’s throat.
Rodin glared at her. “Remain silent, woman! As spoken and agreed, the marriage between Drake and the woman, Elena Knightsbridge, is declared null and void.”
As one, the twelve members of the Council said, “As spoken and agreed, let it be done.”
“Done and done,” Rodin said. “Drake, arise.”
The heavy chains binding his wrists rattled as, with an effort, Drake gained his feet.
Rodin stood. He smiled at the young woman sitting quietly in the other chair, then extended his hand. “Come, Katiya.”
She rose gracefully, her head high and proud as she took her place at Rodin’s side.
“By my will and authority,” the Master Vampire declared, “I do hereby approve and affirm the betrothal between Drake Sherrad and Katiya Belova, here present. The marriage will be performed at a time of the bride’s choosing. This Council is dismissed.”
Chapter 17
Once again, Elena found herself being led out of the Council chambers. But she wasn’t taken downstairs to the women’s dormitory this time. Instead, Liliana escorted her into a large chamber at the other end of the corridor.
“This will be your room for the remainder of your stay,” the vampire said, her voice cool. “Please, make yourself at home. You may have the run of the Fortress during the daylight hours. I would advise you to remain in here, with the door locked, when the sun goes down. You may dine in here, or join the shee . . . the other women at mealtimes. Is there anything you wish?”
Elena clasped her hands, took a deep breath, and said, “I would very much like to see Drake.”
“My son is no longer your concern.”
Elena bit down hard on her lower lip. It was the only way to stifle the angry words of protest that rose in her throat. She would have gone down on her knees and begged, but she knew doing so would accomplish nothing but her own humiliation. Instead, she straightened her spine and said, “You’re right, of course.”
Something that might have been compassion flickered in the depths of Liliana’s deep green eyes, and was quickly gone. “There is a nightgown and a change of clothing in the wardrobe. If you have need of anything at all, there will be a drone outside your door. Just tell him what you want.”
Elena nodded. A drone? What on earth was that?
“I bid you good night,” Liliana said, and with a last look around the room, she took her leave, quietly closing the door behind her.
Elena stood in the middle of the room. It was a far cry from the dormitory where the sheep were housed. Several landscapes adorned the pale yellow walls. Plush beige carpeting muffled her footsteps. A ceramic pitcher and several glasses sat atop an ornately carved three-drawer chest, along with a hair brush and hand mirror. A flowered quilt covered a large brass bed. A wooden shelf held a number of books written in several different languages, as well as numerous DVDs and CDs for the TV and stereo housed in a small entertainment unit. Curious, she opened the door to the left of the bed and stepped inside, surprised to find a small bathroom. There was no tub, just a commode, sink, and shower. A shelf held several towels.
Returning to the main room, she went to the window and pulled back the heavy drapery. A bright yellow moon shone on the snowcapped mountains in the distance. It was too dark to see anything else, but she stood there for several minutes, staring at the wispy gray clouds drifting across the inky sky.
Where was Drake? Was someone caring for him? How long would it take for those dreadful burns to heal? Was he still a prisoner? Would they let her see him again?
So many questions and no one to answer them.
Suddenly overcome with weariness, she sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes, then let down her hair.
There would be time enough for answers tomorrow.
Drake lay on his back on a thick pallet in a cell in the dungeon beneath the Fortress, his arms folded behind his head. It was a dismal place, but preferable to being locked in the tower. A sound of disgust rose in his throat. Trust Rodin to drag out his punishment as long as possible, as if Drake could forget that he was no longer a free man, or that his sire was now making his decisions for him. The thought rankled beyond bearing.
Earlier, Rodin had brought him one of the sheep, but Drake had refused to feed, even though drinking from her would have helped ease his pain and aided in his healing.
It had been a foolish thing to do. He would not heal without feeding, but his anger and his pride had overridden his thirst.
Rodin had glared at him. Though his sire hadn’t spoken a word, it was obvious he knew why Drake had refused to feed, and just as obvious that he recognized the gesture for the useless act of rebellion it was.
Drake swore. How had things gone so wrong, so fast? He had badly underestimated Rodin’s determination to have his own way. Considering the events of the last two days, it was difficult to believe he was his sire’s favorite son, but Drake knew it to be true. The fact that he still lived was proof of it.
He groaned low in his throat as the hunger burned through him. Maybe he should have fed. The pain that wracked him was constant. He could feel his veins shrinking. His fangs ached. His blistered skin throbbed incessantly. But even worse than his physical pain was his need to see Elena, to hold her in his arms, to bury himself in her sweetness.
Closing his eyes, he summoned her image to the forefront of his mind. How had he lived so long without her? She was like the sun, bringing light i
nto the darkness of his life. He thought of the night they had made love, the way she had given herself to him, the joy he had found in her arms. She had been afraid of what he was, yet she had come to him eagerly, giving him all she had, her love pouring over him as warm and bright as summer sunshine. He remembered the taste of her on his tongue, the way her life’s blood had warmed him, turning away the hunger, lighting the darkness of his soul.
What was he to do without her? Where was she now? He tried to find her through the blood link they shared, but he was too weak, the pain too strong, to concentrate.
A cry erupted from his throat, torn from the very depths of his being, a mournful wail that rolled all his pain and loneliness into one long anguished howl that reverberated off the walls and echoed in every room in the Fortress.
And those who loved him heard and wept bitter tears.
Elena woke with an overpowering sense of loss. As much as she might wish otherwise, her brief marriage was over. What was worse, Drake was going to marry someone else. He might insist he didn’t want to wed Katiya, but what man—mortal or vampire—would find such a union distasteful? The vampire was beautiful. Her skin was so clear, it almost glowed. Her hair was thick and rich, her figure perfect. Looking at her had made Elena feel as grubby and undesirable as an old worn-out shoe.
If only she could leave this place now! How long would Rodin insist on keeping her here? What if—horrible thought—he made her attend the wedding? She would rather die than watch Katiya become Drake’s bride. How was she going to face the future, knowing he was sharing his life with another woman, fathering a child with someone else? No matter how long she lived, she would never forget him.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Elena sat up and stared at the wall. If Rodin sent her away, where would she go? Surely not back to her uncle. Drake had said if the time came when she no longer wanted to be his wife, he would give her Wolfram Castle and the means to support herself for the rest of her life. But he was in no position to do that now, so where did that leave her?
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