“You’ve been honest with me, Mina.” Another tantalizing touch of lips, a small slip of tongue. “So I’ll be honest with you.”
She kept her eyes open, as did he, his vampire burning bright in every taut line of his face.
“I want you.” He let loose his hand lacing her fingers, then gripped her nape, squeezing gently. “I want you so much, I feel like if I don’t make you mine soon, then some part of me will break away and disappear into the unknown. Then another will break away and another, until there’s nothing left of me at all but a hollow void. A shell of a man.” A trail of his tongue along the slightly parted seam of her lips. “I didn’t know I’d ever have to choose between a woman and the Bloodguard.” He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. “But I didn’t know I’d ever meet you.”
Her heart in her throat, she whispered, “I don’t want you to have to choose between me and the Bloodguard.”
“I don’t, either, Mina.” He pressed a harder kiss to her lips, stroking sweetly with his tongue before pulling away, a pulse of fervent adoration seeping into her empathic senses from this virile man. “But I also want to be whole. Sometimes, I think the heavens put me in that tower in Briar Rose and sealed my fate with that blood kiss. Like fate is against me.”
“No,” she whispered fervently, brushing a lock of his dark hair away from his brow. “I’ve felt the same since that very moment. Fate is with us. You were meant to be the one to awaken me.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “We’ll find a way, Mina, we’ll—”
Without warning, he lurched off of her and leaped to the window.
“What is it?” Mina listened but heard nothing. Not at first.
Then a blood-curdling scream pierced the darkness from Brennalyn’s house. It sounded like Beatrice or Helena. Mikhail slammed the inside shutters closed over the window and latched them tight. That was the first time Mina realized they were made of iron not wood. Only painted to look like wood.
He pulled his dagger free and charged for the door, but turned before he opened it.
“Quickly. Bolt the door when I leave and hide behind the bed. Keep your dagger close, just in case. I’ll be back shortly.”
Then he was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Mikhail flashed to the back door, but it was locked. A crash to the floor inside and someone grunted.
“Get Izzy and Denny!” screamed Brennalyn, panic and fear so ripe he could taste it through the wall.
Without hesitation, he smashed through the window, glass shattering around him. Brenna stood blocking the hall to where Izzy and Denny slept, wielding a gold-tipped dagger at the ready. Gold, the one element poisonous to vampires. She bared her fangs, even though her two attackers were twice her size. Her sleeve was sliced with bloody claw marks at the shoulder.
The two bulky vampires had turned at the sound of breaking glass. Their eyes were flat black, a sure sign of sanguine furorem. The madness would make them strong and lethal, but not as deadly as him.
“Well, look who it is. Cap’n of the Bloodguard,” said the bigger one, puffing up his chest and creeping forward.
“Take ’im, Jeb.” He turned to Brenna. “I’ll take the pretty little vamp.”
Mikhail didn’t have time to wonder how they knew who he was, but he took about two seconds to process that these were commoners turned vampire, one of the thousands taken by force from villages across Varis for Queen Morgrid’s army. These two were apparently rogues, lost and looking for easy prey. They threatened Brenna and her children. They were dead men.
Mikhail launched at the big one who gripped his wrist before Mikhail could slice his throat. Grappling, Mikhail twisted in a blur, breaking the vampire’s grip and coming up at his back. Before the vampire could even turn his head, Mikhail gripped his throat from behind and shoved his dagger into the base of his skull at an upward angle with a satisfying crunch.
As Mikhail spun back to the second one, Brenna leaped out and slashed, scoring the intruder’s face, a spurt of red spraying the air, flesh sizzling from the cut with gold.
“Bitch!”
Mikhail was on him before he could leap onto her. They tumbled sideways against a sideboard, a vase of flowers shattering as they rolled. Mikhail straddled his chest, fisted his scraggly hair, and slammed his head to the floor. The vamp was skinny but strength pumped hard in his new-born veins, the blood madness doing its work. He gripped Mikhail’s blade before it slid into his jugular. Squeezing the blade, his fingers dripped blood. The creature scented the air, baring his fangs at the smell of his own blood.
The door crashed open. Mikhail faltered. There, silhouetted in the doorway was the frightening figure of Radomir, the queen’s consort and personal guard, his bald head shining by moonlight. The vampire who’d killed Mina’s lady-in-waiting, then imprisoned her in a bloodless sleep. Fury lit within Mikhail’s chest. Several of the queen’s guard in royal colors, blue and silver, strode in with Radomir. The sudden distraction was enough for the skinny vamp to leverage his weight and push Mikhail off.
Mikhail leaped in to a defensive stance. Brenna ran away down the hall toward the children’s room.
Radomir’s gaze followed her before he uttered a silky, menacing command. “Get her.” Four vampires launched down the hall. Radomir pulled a curving scimitar from his belt and instead of coming forward for Mikhail, he flashed down the hall behind the Legionnaires.
At the exact moment, Friedrich, Grant, and Gregoravich blurred into the house.
A thump sounded against the wall in the bedroom.
“Noooo!” screamed Brennalyn.
Friedrich, with death in his eyes, sped toward them. Grant and Gregoravich engaged with the two Legionnaires still standing in the room. Mikhail followed Friedrich.
Friedrich had already snapped the neck of one in the three seconds it took Mikhail to get there. The duke swung his sword and cleaved in two the head of another Legionnaire who was entirely too close to Brenna, who hovered over and whispered to the crumpled, unconscious form of Beatrice.
Radomir stalked toward Izzy and Denny, the children clinging to each other in a bed in the corner, their wide eyes frozen in terror. Mikhail launched at Radomir only to feel a sharp stab in the middle of his back.
Mikhail roared and spun on his attacker. Not a new-born but a seemingly skilled officer of the queen’s guard, his fine blond hair shining by the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window.
“Come on, traitor,” he beckoned, grinning, his canines sharp, but the sword in his hand sharper. “Let’s see what you can do with your little dagger.”
In a flash, Mikhail pulled two finger-size blades from his belt and sent them home. They embedded in the officer’s eyes. He fell back, bellowing and bleeding. Before he could hit the floor, Mikhail was on him.
“More than you can do with your pretty sword,” he answered, shoving his serrated blade into his carotid artery and slicing deep.
“Hold!” screamed Radomir.
Mikhail was on his feet, shoulder to shoulder with Grant, whose face was splattered with crimson—not his own. Friedrich stood in front of Brenna and the fallen form of Beatrice, his fist white-knuckled on the hilt of his bloodstained sword.
But not a soul moved. Radomir held Izzy off the floor, an arm banded at her waist and his scimitar at her tiny, pale throat. The one who’d gotten away from Mikhail had Denny with his claws already pricking the tender skin of his neck, a dirty knife poised over his heart. In one second, they could kill them both.
“Radomir.” Friedrich beckoned his attention to him, Brennalyn standing only a foot behind him. She stared at her two hostage children, fear radiating through the room in her quickened pulse. “Whatever you think to gain by harming my children, think again. You’ll die the second you do.”
The narrow-eyed consort of the queen smiled, his canines thicker and longer than most vampires’, making him look far more monster than man. “You don’t understand, Your Grace.” His gaze flicked to
each of them, seeming to gauge his chances. “I didn’t come here to kill the children.”
Friedrich took a step forward, but Radomir tightened his hold and pressed his blade closer. Izzy squeaked, a single drop of blood sliding down her slender throat.
“Mimi,” she cried, tears falling from her pale-blue eyes.
Brennalyn clenched her hands together, her voice shaking. “It’s okay, Izzy darling.”
“What did you come for then?” Friedrich demanded, his beast riding his vocal cords.
Radomir grinned, his eerie gaze sweeping the room, landing on Mikhail, then locking back with Friedrich.
“Not even your Bloodguard can help you now, Your Grace.”
He glanced at his man holding Denny, and with an almost imperceptible nod, he crashed through the glass window, taking Izzy with him. In the same second, the scraggly vampire stabbed his dagger straight into Denny’s chest, the sweet-faced boy’s brown eyes going wide then glassy before he’d even hit the ground.
Brenna’s blood-chilling scream filled the room as she leaped for her fallen boy. The killer had already blurred after his master.
“Stay with them!” Friedrich yelled at Grant, falling to the floor to pull Denny’s limp body into his arms.
Mikhail followed, speeding into the night, rent with screams and clanging metal and the overpowering smell of black smoke. Not just wood smoke but the distinct foul scent of burning flesh. That’s when Mikhail realized this wasn’t an attack on Brennalyn’s home. This was a full-scale attack on the Black Lily. Grant was fast on the heels of Radomir, and Mikhail on the child killer.
Catching his prey as Mikhail leaped a snow-covered log, they tumbled to a stop, once more with Mikhail straddling his chest. He didn’t waste time but slit his carotid artery, finding some overwhelming satisfaction in the sight of his blood spilling onto the white snow.
“Rot in hell, you fucking bastard.”
He laughed on a gurgle. “You shouldn’t’ve taken the princess, Cap’n.” He grinned, mouth bubbling his own blood. “She wasn’t yours to take.”
Icy fear sliced down his spine like the reaper’s blade. He raised his dagger and with a powerful force hacked once, then twice, the killer’s head rolling away.
Mina.
He fled back toward the cottage with horror on his heart, sending up a brief prayer to the stars if anyone was listening on this cold, black night.
Chapter Sixteen
Screams and cries filled the night. Mina huddled behind the bed gripping her dagger, sensing the fear and turmoil taking place in Brennalyn’s cottage, and even farther off. In the distance, she sensed rage filling the air. The furious bellows of men at arms, engaged in a battle for blood. The howl of a hart wolf broke through the din of death, a haunting call to their pack. The weight of dark, sinister emotions threatened to cripple her.
Then someone rattled the doorknob. She didn’t call out. Mikhail would’ve let himself be known.
“Yasha! Bring your ax,” barked a commanding voice. “She’s in there. I can smell her.”
Then the fear was her own, spiking adrenaline through her body, igniting her she-beast to the forefront.
Crack. Crack.
The wood around the door splintered. The frame disintegrated under the vicious blows of the vampire named Yasha on the other side.
Crack.
Mina refused to be dragged out like some defenseless lamb. They knew she was here.
Crack.
Someone’s boot kicked the fractured door in. But before anyone stepped in, the thumping sounds of combat echoed into the chamber. Grunts and metal on metal and bones crunching and blood spilling. There were more than two or three men fighting outside the cottage. Mina could make out the thrumming of ten heartbeats. Then nine…then six…five…and finally two.
The panting of the victors drew closer. Mina held her ground, her vampire claws sliding out of her fingertips for the very first time. She recalled Mikhail’s teachings, where to thrust the dagger in easiest, as they sidled through the doorway.
The officer wearing Queen Morgrid’s Legionnaire colors strode confidently into the room, a scarlet-stained short sword in one hand. Then a burly beast of a man in commoner’s clothes entered, eyes as black as the devil’s heart, his ax in hand.
“There now, Your Highness,” crooned the officer, holding up his hands in a calming manner. “Best come easy, sweetling.”
As they crossed the fireplace, now only a few feet separating them, the officer stopped and inhaled deep.
“Oh, my.” His blue eyes dilated, his fangs elongated more, thickening his speech. “Seems our little princess has been naughty.” He shook a finger at her like she was a child. “Tsk, tsk. I don’t believe King Dominik will like that at all.”
The beast called Yasha grunted, his nostrils flaring. Mina knew sanguine furorem made men feral. Not just like animals, but like crazed monsters. Craving blood above all, but their primal instincts to dominate rode parallel to the bloodlust. At this moment, Mina’s empathic senses felt the air changing around the ax-wielding creature.
His black gaze shifted down her body in a caress of menace. His emotions were a blistering concoction of malice, hunger, hatred, and sinister lust.
“Yasha!” The officer put his hand to the creature’s chest. “Wait outside. I’ll handle her.”
Yasha didn’t move as the officer advanced. Mina readied herself. No way would she be taken without a fight. She hissed a warning at them both.
The officer smiled one second before he was on her.
…
Mikhail smelled the pungent blood before her small cabin came into view. Bodies lay in the snow outside her shattered door. The two closest to the entry caused Mikhail’s heart to stutter, his stomach clenching in grief. Not now.
Someone struggled inside. He flashed over the bodies and into the dark room. A Legionnaire lay dead on the floor, Mina’s emerald-studded hilt jutting out beneath his chin.
Then Mikhail’s entire body lit into scorching rage. A giant vampire pinned Mina down, one hand on her throat, the other ripping at her skirt, trying to subdue her struggling body. In swift succession, Mikhail lifted the ax on the floor, gripped the bastard by the hair, lofted him off Mina and onto his back, then started chopping.
The head rolled off in four hacks, tongue lolling, but it wasn’t enough. Mikhail aimed where the beast’s heart lay. It might still be beating. He wanted it stopped. He wanted this foul fucking beast to be nothing but an unrecognizable mass of mutilated flesh and bone.
On what must have been the twentieth upward swing, he heard her call his name.
Heaving, he turned. She stood straight and tall, her dress bloody and torn, starlike eyes filled with pain but bright and burning. He dropped the ax and swept her into his arms, fearing she might still be swept away from him.
“Are you hurt?” he rasped. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head and wrapped her arms tight around his neck, squeezing him as hard as he was.
A mournful wail echoed on a sob from Brenna’s cottage. Mina gasped and pushed back.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Come on.” Taking her hand, he guided her out the door.
At the doorway, Mikhail stopped, the fury cooling, replaced with hollow-souled grief. Kneeling beside his blood brother, he looked into the lifeless eyes of Aleksei one last time before closing them for good. His body was already cold. The bitterness of it, of a man who’d made him laugh so many nights around the fire, who’d fought beside him and shed blood with him time and again, his last act to give his life for the princess. Then he stepped over him to the Black Lily soldier, Ivan.
Aleksei and Ivan had always gotten along so well, with their mutual love of good ale, fine women, and warm laughter. The sight of his vampire guard and the human soldier side by side in death reminded him what this war was all about, what they were fighting for. And how much they had to lose.
“Oh, God.” Mina knelt be
side Aleksei. “They’d come to protect me.”
“Aye,” he agreed, glancing at the six bodies they’d felled before they breathed their last. “They did their duty,” he said gently, not meaning for it to sting, though it did. “Not out of obligation, but because it is who they are.” He glanced down, a lump swelling in his throat. “Who they were.”
Mina’s eyes pooled with tears but didn’t drop until she leaned over Aleksei and placed a kiss on his forehead. Then she moved to Ivan and did the same.
“Come,” he murmured, anxiety riding him to find his brother. But first, he must see to it that Mina was in safe hands.
They ran through the brush, off the trail, the shortest route to the front door. They quickly passed the dead bodies and followed the mournful sound of Brennalyn coming from the children’s room.
Brenna sat on the floor next to Beatrice, the limp body of little Denny in her lap, his dark head against her chest as she combed her fingers though his hair. Gregoravich stood over her, guarding. The two dead Legionnaires were piled against the far wall near the door.
Mikhail knelt onto one knee next to Beatrice, checking her pulse, when two pairs of light footsteps and a set of heavy boots sounded up the hall. Helena, Sienna, and Nikolai rushed into the room, all three battle-worn. Helena’s pale face bore a purpling bruise on her cheek, her black hair falling in wild disarray. Sienna’s eyes glinted gold with her fire magic, the residual scent of it like charred honey lingering in the air. Nikolai carried his sword, bloodied from his kills, his face a mask of tamped rage.
“Oh, Mimi!” Helena fell down onto her knees, cradling Denny’s face.
Brenna swallowed the grief she’d been pouring out through tears and sobs as Helena wept instead.
“Not Denny, Mimi,” she cried, shaking her head. “Not sweet Denny.”
“Oh, my darling.” Brenna brushed her hand over her head and pulled her close. They clung to each other with the boy’s lifeless body between them. “He’s with the angels now, my love.”
The Emerald Lily Page 14
