Vladimir shoved his man aside, sending him sprawling arse-first in the dirt. “She is mine. Remember that, Oscar, and you will live to see another day.”
“Aye, my lord.” Oscar gained his feet and brushed off his backside. As he turned, he glared at her, lips curled in a snarl.
“Apologies, chère,” Vladimir said, his voice smooth as silk, his attention on his man-at-arm’s retreating back. “No need for such unpleasantness...especially since you will soon be wedded and bedded.” He turned his gaze away from Oscar and met hers. “Though not in that order.”
The thought of him touching her made her skin crawl. “Xavian will kill you.”
“He will have to find me first. By then ’twill be too late.”
The certainty in his tone rubbed her raw. The terrible glint in his eyes catapulted her fear to new levels. He knew something she didn’t...but what? The mystery—all those nasty unanswered questions—hinged on his knowledge. “What did you do to my mother?”
“Besides kill her? Not much. The question you should be asking, little witch, is what she did to you.” Vladimir reached into the pouch at his waist. His movements slowed, prolonging the moment as he pulled a piece of jewelry from the leather opening. The golden links slid across his palm, dangling from his fingertips. A choker. One with oval blood crystals set in a diagonal pattern. Afina sucked in a quick breath. The half-smile he wore turned into a full grin. “’Tis a lovely dog collar, don’t you think? Fit for a high priestess.”
Dread sank like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Her mother had made the necklace. Afina recognized her work, smelled the black magic in each link. The stench carried a vile imprint, the same one used to imprison the dragon shifters. And if Garren—with all his strength and cunning—had not been able to resist the spell, what chance did she have to defeat it?
“You’ll never get it on me.”
“’Tis why I have them to hold you down,” he said, waving his free hand. Afina glanced over her shoulder, trying to avoid the blood crystals sewn into the net. Four men stood behind her, looking keen and battle-ready.
Vladimir swung the choker on the tip of his finger, the sway hypnotic...terrifying. “Now let’s get you muzzled, shall we?”
“No!”
“Come now, cherie. ’Twill not hurt...much.” Crouching at her feet, he unsheathed his dagger and set the sharp point to the net. The four pigs shifted, boxing her in, one to hold each limb when her prison gave way. Vladimir cut the first junction, met her gaze, and whispered, “Soon you will spread your lovely thighs for me, Priestess.”
“Never.”
Vladimir smirked and cut the first link in the net.
Afina dropped the amulet and curled her hands into fists, muscles coiled, waiting for the moment the rope fell away and the black magic retreated. She was weak, yes, but not entirely defenseless. The buffer—the wall surrounding the core of her magic—was still intact. It wasn’t much...hardly enough...but a little was better than nothing. She needed to keep that thing away from her neck. “I will never forget Xavian. He is and will always be my mate.”
“So much spirit.” Vladimir chuckled, cutting another joint. “I will enjoy breaking you, Afina.”
Five more to go...now four. Afina counted, held her breath, felt her magic flicker as the netting loosened around her.
The swine cut through the last tie. He glanced at each of his men, a warning in his gaze. “Get ready.”
With a quick flick, Vladimir threw the blood crystals aside. Afina exploded through the opening, feet and fists flying. Her heels slammed into shins. Her knuckles connected with bone. Her fingernails gouged, raking their cheeks. The men cursed. She scrambled sideways. Cruel hands grabbed her, pulled her back, pinned one wrist then the other. Kicking out with her feet, she swung right, shoulders arched, boot heels tearing at the ground. She couldn’t let them get her feet. She couldn’t—
One calf hit the ground under a brutal hold. The other followed, pinned by the fourth bastard’s shin. Her curse turned into a sob. She called on her magic, prayed for the answering rush—the heat and power—but knew it would never come. The blood crystals had taken too much...left her vulnerable to the vermin holding her down. Still she fought their grip, howled her fury, refusing to surrender. If she lost the battle, Dax would die. Xavian would suffer. And she would turn into a monster...just like her mother.
Vladimir stood watching, calm in the face of her storm. “Now, now, Priestess. Give up...you are defeated.”
“I am going to rip your head off and feed your body to the wolves!”
“And I am going to fuck you here...in the dirt,” he murmured, still twirling the choker around his fingertip. Skirting the guard holding her right wrist, the swine stopped even with her head. She tensed when he nudged her with his boot, pressing the sole to her cheekbone. Wet dirt smeared her skin, mixing with the smell of leather before he lifted his foot away and sank to his haunches beside her. “Do you think my men will enjoy watching us? Enjoy the sight of your bare flesh in the sunlight, mud on your knees, my cock in your mouth?”
Afina’s bottom lip quivered, betraying her fear.
Vladimir raised his hand, brushing away the mud he’d left on her face. “Now chin up, chère. ’Tis time.”
She pinned her chin to her chest. “Get away from me!”
His fingers dipped, trailing down her face to curl beneath her jawbone. Vladimir pressed up. She resisted, protecting her neck. Applying more pressure, he used his thumb, digging into her pulse point. Pain shot into her ear, down the back of her throat, gagging her. With a growl, she bared her teeth and sank them into the muscle below his thumb.
“Damnation!” He jerked and shook free of her hold.
Afina tasted blood and, gathering her salvia, spit in his face. “Swine.”
Disgust turned the corners of his mouth down as Vladimir wiped the mess from his cheek. Cold fury in his eyes, he tipped his chin in Oscar’s direction.
“With pleasure,” Oscar said, fisting his hand in her hair. Lifting, he slammed the back of her head into the ground. Agony hit her like a flail, driving its spikes into her skull. The bastard raised her head again.
Vladimir grabbed his arm. “Flip her over.”
The band of fresh fear tightened its grip around her chest, squeezing a sob from her throat. Five against one. The bastards. She would never be able to fight with him sitting on her back.
“Good idea, my lord.” The pig holding her arm down laughed. “Want to take her that way too?”
“Mayhap,” Vladimir murmured, excitement sifting beneath the word.
Her stomach rebelled. Afina tasted bile and desperation, fighting to keep them from flipping her over. Their collective grip was brutal, squeezing in her muscles, compressing the bone beneath. Her chest touched down first then her belly and hips. Vladimir’s knee settled between her shoulder blades.
No. Goddess help her, no. “Xavian!”
She screamed his name like a battle cry, over and over...until her voice gave out and shadows gathered in her mind. Like demons winged with blood, they settled deep as the swine wound her braid around his hand. His fist pressed to her nape, he pulled until her chin came off the ground.
His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Now you become mine.”
Afina bucked beneath his weight. “Go to hell.”
Vladimir retreated to loop the choker beneath her chin. She cringed, arched her spine more to avoid the inevitable. The crystals hummed, a breath away, reaching for her skin. An instant before gemstones touched her, a whoosh sounded above her. The bastard holding her wrist jerked and toppled backward. A long blur streaked past. Blood arched, splashing across her cheek as the second guard collapsed, an arrow shaft through his eye socket. Both hands now free, Afina reared. Vladimir hung on, tightening his grip in her hair. She made a sound, more animal than human, and twisted, unbalancing the swine on her back. The choker flew, flipping end over end as Afina brought her arm up. Bone cracked against bone as she
planted her elbow in Vladimir’s face.
With a howl he flailed, falling backward, one hand over his bloody nose, the other reaching for her. As his arse met the ground, Vladimir bellowed, telling his men to keep hold of her legs. The man holding her right ankle pressed down. Another whistle sounded. Chest heaving, heart thumping, Afina ducked. The bastard behind her gagged, the tip of a dagger protruding from his throat. Scrambling madly, she kicked out, slamming her foot into Oscar’s chin. His head snapped back and he lost his grip, liberating her other foot.
Wet earth pushing beneath her fingernails, Afina lunged toward Dax. She needed to get them both to the lip of the forest. The arrows had come from her left. Her salvation lay in that direction. If she could just—
A man she didn’t recognize leapt over a huge boulder at the edge of the dell. His feet hit the ground, and he rolled, loosing a dagger as he came out of his crouch. The blade struck home, sinking into an enemy chest. Vladimir shouted, rousing his guard. At least twenty strong, they unsheathed their swords.
The stranger skidded to a halt beside her. Drawing two arrows from his quiver, he set his bow with both and took down more of Vladimir’s guard. “Get behind me, healer.”
Afina didn’t stop to think, much less argue. The warrior dressed like Xavian and his men, black from head to toe. The only real difference was his hair. Trimmed to his skull, the cut emphasized the planes of his face. Set in lethal lines, his green eyes flashed as his arrows flew, using the swine’s men as pincushions. But they were growing wise, taking cover to release their own. An arrowhead cut through the ground beside her, leaving a trench an inch deep.
The warrior in front of her snarled, unsheathing his twin swords. “Get moving, woman.”
“Where?”
“Take cover in the trees. I will follow.”
A death grip on Dax, Afina heaved his weight. Oscar outflanked her, blood running from the corner of his mouth. Sword in hand, he cut off her escape from the left. Another guard came around from the right, blocking the last path to freedom. Setting her son down gently, she palmed Xavian’s dagger. “Ah, warrior?”
“What?”
“We’ve got problems.”
“No shit.” Steel slid beneath an enemy chin. The warrior drew his blade through, slitting the man’s throat.
Oscar took a step toward her, a hideous grin on his face. “I’m gonna get your brat, witch.”
“Come any closer...” Afina trailed off, watching two more pigs arrive. They were setting a perimeter, encircling them from all sides. She adjusted her grip on the knife hilt and held it out in front of her. “And you’re a dead man.”
Shielded behind Oscar’s back, Vladimir snorted. “Away you go, Oscar. Kill the bastard...bring me Afina.”
The warrior took a step back. He reset his stance, keeping them back-to-back with Dax lying between them. “You know how to use that, healer?”
“Afina.”
“Shay,” he said, deep voice rumbling as he returned the favor and told her his name. Mayhap it was stupid, but she needed to know it. If she was going to die with the man, she wanted to know what to call him. He threw her a sideways glance, blades raised, a brow arched. “Do you?”
She flexed her free hand, felt a prickle in her fingertips. Her breath hitched on hope as heat gathered at the base of her spine. With the blood crystals gone, her magic was returning. It wasn’t much, but enough mayhap for a diversion...for one of the invisible domes she’d used on the dragons.
“I’ll manage.” Afina shifted to the balls of her feet, picturing a warrior’s shield. She held the image in her mind’s eye, watched, waited for Oscar to make his move. “You fight...I will watch your back.”
Oscar shook his head. “Put it down, witch. You are no match for—”
A dark shadow rolled over the clearing, blotting out the sun. Awareness shivered through her. Afina glanced up an instant before the war cry rippled, rising on the wind. Time slowed, every man froze, swords poised in midair, eyes on the sky. Trees trunks bent sideways, making way for a dark wing. The sharp tip angled in, sliced down, creating a path for its cargo. Xavian leapt from his perch, vaulting through tree limbs, an avenging angel dressed in black leather. As his feet hit the ground, he unsheathed his swords, a roar on his breath, murder on his blades.
“Christ.” Shay glanced at her over his shoulder. “You’ll remember I helped you when this is over?”
“I’ve got your back,” she said to Shay, reassuring him as she set her stance, feet planted, dagger up, magic swirling in her palms. She smiled—more snarl than grin—at Oscar. “Now you’re in for it.”
The bastard’s eyes narrowed. “He has to reach you first, witch.”
A black blur landed behind him, blades at the ready. Afina tipped her chin, greeting the warrior now standing at Oscar’s back. “Andrei.”
“Afina.”
“About time you got here.”
Andrei grinned. “Better late than never.”
The pig roared and, ignoring Andrei, lunged toward her. Sunlight rippled along his sword, the razor-sharp tip leading the charge. Heart in her throat, Dax still at her heels, Afina shifted and raised her hand. A moment before she threw up her shield, Shay pivoted. Steel met steel, the clashing blades inches away from the top of her head. A low ring started in her ears as she got low, hunching over Dax to protect him from the backlash. It didn’t come. Skilled and brutal, Shay controlled the thrust and, with a quick twist, planted his foot in the middle of the bastard’s chest. Oscar stumbled back toward Xavian’s man.
“My thanks.” His gaze on Oscar, Andrei took a step back, allowing his enemy to regain his balance. The urge to bash him over the head almost overcame her. Good goddess, he was fighting fair, adhering to some strange man code.
“Not a problem.”
Afina threw them both a dirty look.
Andrei shrugged, a dangerous twinkle in his eye.
With a grin, Shay returned to the fray, guarding her from the other side.
Aware now was no time to lecture them on the merits of a quick kill, Afina sheathed her knife and grabbed hold of Dax. She needed to get him out of the clearing, away from the fighting...somewhere she could tend his injuries in relative safety.
Retrieve and retreat. Retrieve and retreat.
She looked one way then the other. A lane opened, giving her a clear path into the forest. Her feet moved before her brain told her to go, heading north toward the cliffs. Dax’s head bobbed against her arm. Afina tightened her grip, willing strength into her legs. Her muscles shook, giving in to exhaustion. She needed Xavian’s touch and the ease he always gave her, but that would have to wait. The chaos was too thick. Men were screaming. The horses were shrieking. Steel rang against steel, sound clashing with the scent of freshly churned earth and sweet pine. Afina clung to the mixture like comfort, blocking out the other smells: the blood and sweat and urine.
Almost there...almost there.
The chant sounded inside her head, pushing her forward. The air cooled as she half-dragged, half-carried Dax beneath the canopy of a huge oak tree. Exposed roots made her stumble. She found her footing and kept going, all her focus on the forest and the safety it provided. A dark shadow rose in her periphery. Fuzzy at first, it gathered speed then sound, snarling from three feet away. Shielding Dax, Afina ducked and rolled, breaking their fall with her shoulder. A bloody hand, curled like a claw, swiped at her, passing overhead.
Palming her blade, she spun into a crouch. Vladimir whirled to face her. The choker clutched in his hand, he bared his teeth. Afina snarled back, daring him to come closer. Not the best move, but she didn’t have another. She needed him at dagger point. Her magic would only reach so far. The flickering heat was almost gone, warming little more than her fingertips.
“Come on then...you coward,” she said, taunting him.
“Little bitch.” He spat the words, but took the bait and charged.
Knife at the ready, she raised her free hand. The bastard lunge
d, reaching for her neck. Almost at her throat, Afina threw up her shield. His wrist buckled as he collided with the invisible barrier. The blood crystals shattered, exploding in a spray of uneven light. Black magic surged, filling her mouth, closing her throat, attacking her lungs. Her rib cage contracted and, choking on poison, Afina used the last of her strength to thrust the dagger forward. Steel found flesh and bone. She rammed it through to Vladimir’s heart.
Blood bubbled over the hilt to coat her hand. Too weak to stand, she hung on, watched the life drain from her enemy’s eyes and felt the emptiness in her heart. The bastard was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.
“Afina!”
Her name sounded warped, coming through thick layers, as though her head was under water. Her body felt it too, becoming weightless as Vladimir fell, taking her with him. The ground rose up then grabbed hold, slamming into her shoulder first. Sunlight flickered before the darkness won, stealing her focus. A shadow appeared at her side, the fuzzy outline somehow unthreatening.
“Jesu...Draga.” Gentle hands brushed her face then altered course. With quick efficiency, they ran over her, checking her limbs, the back of her head. Afina flinched, protesting when he touched the cut on her arm. “Easy now...be easy.”
Hmm, she recognized that voice: the strength and rhythm and warmth. “X-Xavian...”
“Shh, now. ’Tis all right.”
Her eyes slid closed. She forced them open. “I g-got him.”
“Aye, you did.” Strong arms slid beneath her shoulder blades. The pain made her cough. “Breathe, love.”
Footfalls sounded then ceased beside her. A second shadow joined Xavian’s. “Goddamn it.”
“Not now, H.” Xavian rolled her to one side and pulled, unlacing the ties at her back. “Where are the others?”
“Hamund and his crew are running the bastards down.”
Afina tried to raise her hand. She wanted to touch Xavian, stroke his face, tell him how much she loved him...how happy she was to see him. Her arm didn’t move. “Xavian.”
“Here, draga.” He cupped her cheek then shifted her again. Her hauberk went flying.
Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) Page 36
