Crimson's Captivation

by Melange Books, LLC

  She paused, watched the sky deepen to a murky black before closing the curtain. “Twilight always seems to come swiftly on days like this, when shadows ballet around the May-pole and truth is told. You see, you and Kieran dance with the same ribbon.”

  “I don’t see how you find any similarity.”

  “It’s not important that you see it’s important that you listen. Kieran, much like you will, set out to find Joan but what he found was a dark world of captivity. Rumors suggest he was so heartbroken to find his Joan had been turned, that he made a deal with Gaten so she could be set free. For hundreds of years now he’s been settling his contract, one royal captive at a time. The same is most likely to happen to you if you aren’t prepared, if you rush headlong in a failed mission to save your Crimson.”

  Viktor stopped pacing. “If this is true, if his Joan is free why doesn’t this Kieran just leave? Why continue this assault on liberty?”

  “Gaten has a lifetime of lifetimes to hunt him down. If he didn’t find him, he would certainly find her. I guess it’s romantic but it’s also a breathing death, wouldn’t you agree? He’s lifeless if he stays. His love is dead if he leaves.”

  “Are you suggesting I shouldn’t try? Wouldn’t you want … would not you hope someone would look for you, my lady?”

  “I’m suggesting that even if you survived the quest, and I must tell you, they know you are coming. These traders aren’t interested in love, only the cost and physics of it. It’s a commodity of the trade. Your Crimson is undoubtedly a conscript of a distant court by now. But maybe most important of all, and this is something you should consider. It’s possible you wouldn’t find the Crimson you fell in love with.”

  “You mean the trade is about sex?” Viktor’s eyes blanked over.

  Sophia could see his heart drop into this stomach so she decided to ignore his question.

  Viktor felt anger tremble through him. “How could you let this be?”

  “It has always been. Many women find excitement in the tales, the possibility of being taken.”

  “Then my lady, I feel sorry for you and your court. Shame your reputation is that of an idealist, a pursuer of love. I think in some way you are more of a coward than the deserters we have in the stockade.”

  “Tic, tic, tic. Such strong words, such strong emotions, all founded in immaturity. You speak as if my choices were easy. Trust me. The alternative, marriage of arrangement would’ve been far easier—my reputation is well deserved and has cost me much.”

  She grasped Viktor’s cheeks in her hands and looked him deep in the eyes, “Answer me this and I will overlook your derision and spare your head this day. Why did you use the word betray earlier?”

  “Because I’ve never known of Kieran or the trade and you’ve known all this time. You should’ve warned me and I would’ve protected Crimson.”

  Viktor collected the diamond necklace from his pocket and held it in his palm so Sophia could see it. “If I had known, I would’ve given her a silver cross rather than this useless diamond necklace.”

  Sophia placed her hand on his shoulder, walked behind him, and whispered in his ear, “I see. Crimson knew too, did she betray you? She knew of the trade and marveled at the tales we would tell. Her skin would blush and her bosom would match the beats of her excited heart. She would implore for more and more details.”

  Viktor’s face twisted and then turned blank. “Crimson knew?”

  “Yes. Ah, there it is. Betrayal is never unblemished, is it? It’s pitted with all those little lies, those little omissions over time. Everyone slants betrayal as if it’s an abrupt act, as if it all of a sudden happened—it doesn’t, Viktor. It’s a slow drift that accumulates like the snow on our mountains up north. Sometimes it feels like betrayal when it isn’t betrayal at all. Even now you don’t consider Crimson to have betrayed and that is the reason I asked you that question.”

  Sophia was back in front of him. “I’m the only one you can trust. I’m the one who knows more about your pursuit than you or anyone else. You can stand here and cleverly mask your judgments of me, or you can shut your reckless mouth, open your ears, and listen. Whichever, it’s your choice.”

  And so it began.

  Viktor didn’t say a word as he was coached in the ways of the trade, told what he would face if he did, in fact, make it to the auction house in Pinsk, Poland. His predispositions were obvious, however, when she suggested his course of action should be to head to Finland. She insisted that he and his two guards’ stopover in Nyberg, but knew Viktor had little interest. Sophia molded the young man for his battle as best she could.

  She took considerable time to interview two guards, when convinced they would die for the young nobleman she assigned them the task of guardian. She then collected enough krona for the long trip across the Baltic, Finland and Poland and wrote a decree to the slayer in Nyberg: Train these men in all manners of extermination of the dark creatures of the night.

  Viktor thanked her as he took the krona and decree. He handed the decree to the nearest guard without even looking at it. His mind was already rushing a castle in Poland.

  Sophia wasn’t surprised Viktor ignored the importance of the decree. She sensed he had no interest in diverting to Nyberg. No, his mind was already in Poland, already rescuing his beloved Crimson. But the path from Finland to Pinsk was in hostile territory, so she secretly pulled the two guards to the side and instructed them to; “drag him, kicking and screaming,” if he ignored her order. “The trip is three or more days over hostile ground. He needs to be prepared. You must see to it that you and he are trained by Johan in Nybergor or you will all be killed the first day.”

  Later that night, Viktor silently collected his sword, wooden stake and silver cross plus the krona Sophia had given him and left under the cover of darkness. He left his assigned guards behind as they slept in the nearby barracks. When he was outside the palace walls, he stopped to see if anyone had noticed. When convinced no one had, he made his way east. He stayed on the beaten path as he headed east towards Stockholm, there he planned to board a transport ship, cross the Baltic Sea and embark from the safe haven of Riga into hostile Poland.

  An offshore breeze cooled the night air, and snow flurries whirled about. Within days, winter would roll over the land. He allowed his horse to loosen its muscles before demanding more speed as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the palace as possible.

  His departure wasn’t unnoticed and his assigned guards were alerted. They quickly mounted their Finnish horses and tracked the young prince.

  * * * *

  Caspian was waiting patiently in the bow of a tree. Having clandestinely listened to the conversation between Sophia and Viktor, he knew Viktor would rush out in the night. Knew he would have his revenge, all he had to do was wait for Viktor.

  “You’re a fool,” Caspian whispered to himself when he saw Viktor alone on the path.

  Caspian jumped from the tree, wrapped himself around Viktor’s shoulders and pulled him from the horse onto the ground.

  “Hello, Viktor. You burned and marred me in yesterday’s light, and I intend to do far worse to you this night. I’m going to beat you to within an inch of your life, turn you, and then kill you again.”

  Viktor got to his feet and saw the horror quickly darting about in the shadows, he was little more than a blur. He stepped backward feeling behind him for the reins of his horse and looking for his weapons. The vampire was behind him in a burst of wind, grabbed his wrist, and twisted him to the ground. He instantly slashed Viktor’s chest and drew blood.

  Then in a matter of seconds from deep in the nearby woods, Caspian shouted, “You should’ve listened to the princess. If you had, you wouldn’t be about on a night like this. She should have warned you about me during your little talk. Death, my friend, has found you.” The shouts bounced off the trees and Viktor was unsure where Caspian was, but quickly realized he had eavesdropped on the conversation at the Palace. Viktor was abo
ut the stand when Caspian grasped him by the feet and began dragging him toward the woods.

  Viktor struggled, turned on his belly and began clawing at the ground. He kicked his left foot free, made it to his feet and began to run. Caspian was in his face faster than humanly possible. Their noses almost touched, and Viktor could see his fangs as they glinted in the moonlight and smell his wretched breath.

  Caspian spoke as a person in full control, “Die with honor, Viktor. Don’t run in fear, stand and fight like a man. Wouldn’t Crimson want that? She would wouldn’t she? Want you to die like a man?”

  Viktor swung and missed badly. Everything was silent, Viktor could only hear his own heavy breaths then a swooshing sound and a thunderous blow to his back that knocked him face first into the ground. The collision was so hard it left him breathless.

  Caspian had his feet again, dragging him toward the tree line. Then a rumble, then a thunder of claps, and Viktor heard them, two horses approaching. He fought to remain on the path and started screaming. Caspian dropped his feet, jumped on his back and had his spindly fingers around Viktor’s throat, squeezing to the point where Viktor’s screams were muted.

  From the direction of the two horses came a whizzing sound. The pike shot through the air and speared Caspian’s left hip. Caspian howled. Then another whisk and an airborne spike whizzed by Caspian’s head. Caspian snarled at the two guards, leaped up, and disappeared into the woods. The guards rushed to Viktor’s side. Deep from the woods they heard the horror, “Death knows where to find you, Viktor. And I will be right beside him.”

  The guards lifted Viktor. Viktor bent over at the waist, resting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The battle only lasted a few seconds and Caspian had nearly killed him, and would have, if he weren’t toying with him. The trip to Johan in Nyberg as suggested by Sophia was now completely understood. He was completely unprepared for what lied ahead.

  Chapter VIII

  ~ Appraisal ~

  The night trip on the Dnieper left the captives mentally and physically exhausted. Cold air slipped through the gaps along the boats wooden walled shelter, causing them to huddle against each other for warmth. Naturally, the topic of conversation was escape. Sena picked apart all of their plans. “You’re in a foreign land. The only value you have is the flesh that is property of Tor. No one will assist you. They’d turn you in for the bounty. Not to mention the moment you’re reported as escaped, the auction house will get involved. And once returned the punishment would be far harsher than anything you can imagine.”

  Sena also pointed out that winter was on its way, and that winters in Poland were especially harsh.

  “I can handle the winter. What would they do if I tried to escape? What could they do besides kill us?” Crimson asked.

  Sena leaned toward the middle of the boat. “You’d wish for death but it would be withheld. Because we’ve been bitten, we die twice. First, the death of our living flesh and then the death of our blood.”

  “But you’ve escaped. I heard you and Kieran near the fireplace.”

  “I escaped from Crimea. The sultan has so many concubines that he probably hasn’t even noticed my disappearance. I wasn’t a favorite anyways, not exotic in my own homeland and you must know—we are marked. Escape will only get you back to Tor and under worse circumstances.”

  Crimson sighed, “I can’t bear the thought of his egotistical hands touching me, of him between my legs or at my breast. What if he tries to kiss me? I’m disgusted at the thought.”

  Sena leaned back against the walls of the boat and snickered, “You think of kissing as more intimate than sex?”

  Crimson answered without hesitation, “Yes, kissing is the sharing of similar body parts. My lips, my tongue. His lips and tongue. It’s mutual. No one could force me to kiss him. I’d simply turn away.” A distant memory seeped in and for a moment, she remembered the tenderness of Viktor.

  “I suspect you’ll be forced to do both and much more. Luckily, men like that don’t last long, he’ll satisfy himself and if we are lucky he’ll eventually lose interest.” Sena nodded toward Sergen. “I suspect Sergen will be the most used. He will be the most enjoyed of all of us.”

  No one said anything more of escape. They silently sat and listened to the wild rushes of the river. It was all so cumbersome, the darkness of the cabin, the choker, the rope, the cold, and this boat—the unknown. Their thoughts this evening were daunting, bleak, and too frail to answer any of their internal questions.

  After several hours, they could hear distant voices of people guiding the Trekschuit onto land. The door opened, and a servant untied the captives. He led them one at time to a moonlit shore where an entourage of servants surrounded a Countess.

  Crimson welcomed the fresh air of the night, she took deep breaths when she stepped off the boat and stood on the sandy shore, the cool river’s water lapped at her feet. For a moment, she disappeared back to a distant place in Sweden, but the recollection was washed-out by the pure exhaustion of trying to remember. The night of being cramped up had taken its toll on her spirits.

  The countess stepped toward them. She did a quick inspection, walked away and ordered, “It will be light soon. Take them to the bathing room and clean them, then set them out for inspection in the main foyer.”

  The bathing room of the palace was light and airy. Although the night was cool, the room was warm and full of balmy moisture. The room was splashes of colors. Blonde and cream decorated the walls, and green highlights on the stone floor. The wall to the back held one of three fireplaces and two servants were tossing wood onto the orange flames. Sergen and Uric were taken to one side, Crimson and Sena the other. Chambermaids guided them into the warm pool and bathed them with perfumed oils.

  Crimson noticed the male servants were eunuchs. “They’ve been cut,” she whispered to Sena.

  “Yes, it’s not uncommon. They were either purchased that way or may have transgressed against the head of the household’s orders. I caution you to not behave here as you did with Kieran.”

  Crimson nodded. “What about the women servants?”

  “Chastity belts are used if they are shown to have little self-control.”

  After being cleansed, they were dried and left naked, except the new codpieces attached to Sergen and Uric. Moments later a guard entered and all four were led to a hallway in the main part of the palace. One guard ordered, “You shall wait here for the countess.” They stood there, by themselves, in the main hallway.

  “They’re testing us, seeing if we will run,” Sena said as she watched Uric eye the heavy door to his left. They stood there silently, waiting and then heard the footsteps of a group approaching.

  The countess with her daughter and a servant in tow made their way down the long hallway. Crimson’s heart pounded and she inched closer to Sergen and wanted to grasp Sena’s hand. The countess stopped in front of Sergen first. She examined him while drumming a riding crop in the palm of her left hand. The countess was older but pretty, her long hair curled at the end and disappeared over her shoulders, her skin the color of cream and she had stunning blue eyes and plump lips.

  “You must be Sergen,” she said as she ran her eyes over him. “Nice. Skin bronzed from exposure. Are you Turkish? Possibly Spanish?”

  “Undo his codpiece,” the countess ordered.

  A servant reached across his left thigh, began to untie the codpiece and was stopped. “Not you, you,” the countess said. “You,” and she pointed to Crimson. Crimson kneeled, loosened the knot around his waist and left thigh, and allowed the fabric to fall to the floor. Even flaccid Sergen’s member was thick and long. The countess admired it. “My, my, enthralling, just considering it ignites my desire, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked in the direction of Crimson.

  “Yes, my Lady,” Crimson replied, honestly.

  “Turn and face the wall, Sergen.” Sergen did as instructed and the countess was pleased with him and said, “Good man. Yes, you are a very
good man. I promise you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The countess admired his muscular back and firm buttocks. Ran her hands over his broad shoulders, down the small of his back, around his thin waist and then measured the thickness of his thighs with her hands. “You’re as striking as the Arabian thoroughbreds I have in my stable, worth every golden bar my husband spent for you. Fair trade I suspect useless gold for the copper-color of your flesh. Not to mention your manhood. Muscled but toned, yes, you will be mine.”

  She twisted Sergen back around. “Make him excited,” she ordered Crimson.

  Crimson hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then the countess had second thoughts. “Wait. Why ruin the surprise? I can hold off until tonight. Replace his codpiece.”

  She waited until Crimson was done then directed her back in line by placing the crop under Crimson’s chin and slowly lifting her up. “Ah, you must be Crimson. I see why the Tor selected you—you are beautiful. Bet he can’t wait to examine every inch of your body.” She lifted Crimson’s heavy breast with the crop and watched it fall back into place. “Should I be jealous?”

  “Only if you confuse your jealousy with my disgust,” Crimson countered.

  Crimson braced herself for a harsh reaction, but the countess only laughed an agreeable, guttural laugh that echoed down the hallway. “Yes, you’ve met Tor I see. A little fight in you—we’ll have to break you of that. You do know that?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Crimson answered.

  “Good. You must be Sena. I bet you moan the moment your clitoris is touched. And those full lips have pleased many men and women. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The countess stopped in front of Uric. She walked around him and noticed the strap marks across his buttocks. “I can see by the welts on your cheeks, you’re the one who lost control at the auction house, correct? How old are you?”