She was so focused on Mikhail, she didn’t notice the danger flanking her on her left till it was too late.
…
Mikhail smelled them the split second before they attacked. He dropped back and launched himself into the vampire flying toward Mina. Gripping him around the waist, Mikhail and the attacker went tumbling into her, knocking her to the ground. She screamed. Mikhail’s claws ripped through the attacker’s skin, his fangs long and sharp when he sprang for the hissing vampire.
Pinning him on his back, Mikhail gripped his throat for control. The creature’s eyes were full black with the blood madness. He bucked and clawed, slashing through Mikhail’s shirt and gouging his chest. Crimson sprayed the air. Mikhail felt nothing, his sole intent on watching the man die. With a swift move, he gripped both sides of his head and snapped his neck. Unsheathing the serrated, twelve-inch blade he kept at his hip, he severed the man’s head with three hacks. Vampires could self-heal from broken necks but not from decapitation.
A shriek pierced the woodlands behind him. He shot to his feet right as Gavril slashed another vampire’s carotid artery. A third lay beheaded between Dmitri and Aleksei. Gregoravich kept a defensive stance in front of Mina. Within a second, Mikhail was behind Gregory and held Mina by the shoulders, scanning her for injuries.
“Are you all right?” He needed to touch her, to see that she was unharmed. He examined her face, her throat, opened her cloak to find nothing but a torn sleeve on her arm.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” she protested when he lifted the arm to observe if she’d been injured. “I’m fine. Truly. Not even a scratch.”
Satisfied the beast hadn’t marred her skin, he turned to his men grouped around the one at Aleksei’s feet.
“Same dress as the huntsmen up north,” said Gregoravich, his barrel-deep voice rumbling low, his beast primed and ready for more violence.
Their eyes flared bright ice blue with their vampire senses at the forefront.
“And in a pack of three,” noted Aleksei, “like the ones who took Helena.”
“Who’s Helena?” asked Mina.
Mikhail cracked his neck, exhaling deeply and calming his monster still yearning for blood, itching to kill and maim anyone daring to touch her. He retracted his claws before facing her.
“Helena is the daughter of the Duke of Winter Hill’s wife.”
“His daughter now, as well,” added Gavril.
“They took her?” Mina’s face paled, her eyes wide.
Mikhail’s heart clenched at her concern. “She’s all right. We saved her.”
“Bloody hell.”
Mikhail spun at the sound of his brother in pain. “What is it, Dmitri?”
He gripped his left shoulder, trying to roll it back, bearing his canine teeth like a feral wolf. “My fucking shoulder.”
“You popped it out of socket again.”
“I popped it out of socket. How is this my fault?”
“You move too fast, Brother. On your knees.” Mikhail maneuvered to stand behind him and gripped Dmitri’s shoulder with his right arm and his biceps with his left. “I’ve told you before to control your speed in combat.”
“Yes, that’s easy for you to say. My speed amplifies when my blood is up, so don’t lecture me—”
Crunch.
“Fucking hell!”
Gregory chuckled.
“There’s a lady present,” Aleksei warned with a smirk, wiping the blood from the flat of his blade on his trousers.
“Don’t mind me,” said Mina, smiling, though her brow was still pinched with concern. “Are you all right, Dmitri?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He rotated his arm and scowled at Mikhail, who lifted him to his feet.
She caught his gaze and offered him a tender smile, one of admiration that made his chest swell. He shouldn’t be admiring or wanting her smiles. He shouldn’t be wanting any of her. And yet, his body disagreed with his brain.
“Do you think these men were sent after us specifically?” asked Gavril, crouching down and inspecting one of the bodies.
“No. These have gone rogue. The blood madness will do that,” replied Mikhail, glancing back at the one he’d killed, fangs still bared even in death. “That one was trying to kill the princess. The queen will want her alive and healthy.”
“How do you know that?” she asked.
The men looked to Mikhail, who had no intention of elaborating on how he knew this to be true.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “King Dominik.”
There was more to tell her about Queen Morgrid’s plans for her marriage to her son. Thinking about it poured ice into his veins. That was a detail he’d tell her in private.
“We need to clear out of here quickly. The smell of blood will draw predators. Including any other rogues in the vicinity.”
Mina glanced warily behind her, so Mikhail edged closer. “Are you good to travel on foot from here, or do you need my help?”
He thought she’d simply shout defiance like many women would, but she took a moment to self-examine before drawing in a deep breath.
“I believe I’m fine. If I begin to weaken, I’ll let you know.”
“Promise?” he asked gently, retying the lacing of her cloak at the throat.
“Yes. I promise.”
“Give me your hand.”
Her brow pinched together like it did when she was puzzling something out, yet she offered her hand anyway. So trusting. He held it between both of his and closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses.
“Heartbeat is steady. No shakes. No tremors.”
Opening his eyes, he stared into the infinite blue, feeling something slip inside, like he was losing himself, piece by piece.
“Steady under attack, Your Highness? I’ll bet you’d make a wonderful warrior queen.”
“Are you teasing me, Captain?” She arched a delicate brow.
“Not at all. I mean it sincerely.” He sobered. “Deeply.”
Their gazes lingered, deepened, causing his heart to kick up a notch. With a squeeze of her hand, he ushered her between the other men with a hand at the small of her back. “Dmitri, you’re point. Gavril and I will take her right. Gregory and Aleksei, her left.”
She moved within the circle of Bloodguard assassins, shielded on all sides. As one, they flashed into vampire speed, moving ever closer to Silvane Forest. Soon, she’d be within the safety of the Black Lily. Perhaps then, the temptation to drag her off behind a tree and devour every last inch of her would finally subside.
Perhaps not.
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 fro
m 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.
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