"How Andor? It’s impossible to mend my heart. No one can make this better but my Mikhal, and he simply doesn’t care for me any longer."
Andor growled, his rage surfacing. "His Lordship has been blinded by the wench he has taken to his bed. If we eliminate her, then he will once again treat you as he should." He wanted to scream that her brother wasn’t fit to rule them, that she should reign over their clan, but he held mum. Now wasn’t the time. She still loved the Lord of the castle.
"He has mated her you fool. We can't touch her."
"No, but we can cause trouble. We can spread tales of her deceptions. We can plot her downfall and sully her in his eyes so he no longer wants her near him. Think of it, Darling. Imagine the bitch lying in chains in the pits of filth below this castle."
"But she carries his son."
"Not forever. Her time will come and she’ll birth the brat, and then she can be disposed of. In the meantime, she can be locked in the dungeon and cared for well out of his sight. If he becomes enraged with her, then he won't want anything to do with her, and he shall return to you."
In truth Andor had other ideas for Mikhal the Merciless, but he knew Marishka wasn't ready to hear them yet. They involved acts of treason against her brother, and she still clung to her blind devotion. He would slowly sow these seeds of deceit inside her, get her to act against him in this one little way, and then engage the help of the others to make her see that her brother was not fit to rule them any longer. Andor knew that his scheme would take time, but in the end, he planned for his dark princess to rule the clan and for he, himself, to be at her side.
Marishka gave a tiny smile at the thought of Alliana locked in the deepest pit of the dungeon, trapped in the filth with the rats nibbling at her toes, not allowed to see the light of day. "Do you think we could Andor? Do you think we could really make my Mikhal lock her up?"
"Of course Darling. I promise to make it all better." As he said the words, Andor sat on the edge of the bed and began to stroke her back, murmuring soothing promises.
"I shan't have my Mikhal hurt. You are not to go against your Master."
Stroke, stroke, stroke. "Of course not, love. He is My Lord, your beloved brother. I wouldn’t dream of it." His hands began to unfasten the tiny hooks that held her gown together, opening it up to reveal her pale smooth skin as he continued to caress her, and speak soft words of encouragement. "Trust me, My Lady. I shall see to it all. Trust me and it will all be fine.”
“Yes, Andor. You will make it fine. Make me feel better Darling. You know what I want.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Andor rose and stripped off his clothes as Marishka watched from the bed, her dark eyes coming to life once more. When he was bare, he turned and walked to the small room at the back of the chamber that reeked of blood and pain; Marishka, followed, crushing the gold fabric of her ball gown under her feet as it fell from her body.
“Such a good boy. You know what will make mummy feel better.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Andor knelt at her feet, and handed Marishka the coiled whip, then rose and fastened the dangling shackles around each of his wrists. When he was finished, he spread his legs wide and threw back his head, bracing himself for the first of the many strokes that would help to heal his love’s broken heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Mikhal returned to Alliana’s chamber following his argument with Marishka, filled with anger and misgiving because of her threats against his mate. He’d gotten through to her... hadn’t he? Marishka wouldn’t truly try and hurt Alliana would she? He was almost certain she wouldn’t, and knew he should dismiss her words, but yet they lingered in his mind. They had simply been spoken in the heat of the moment, but the argument he’d just had with her kept running through his head nevertheless.
Yes, her words still rang in his ears though he tried to ignore them, causing him fury and ... worry? Was he truly concerned about his wife? If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that there was a fierce feeling of protectiveness inside him for the woman he had chosen to be his mate, but was it fear for the child she carried or something else that made him so very uneasy about Marishka’s threats?
Yes his son meant the world to him, but what of the babe’s mother? Marishka would have him banish Alliana to the dungeon below and tended to with just enough care to deliver the boy and nothing more, but the very idea of his mate laying in the filthy straw, cold and shivering, terrified by the creatures who scurried about in the darkness, made him sick with disgust.
He entered her chamber without a sound, moving across the candle lit room on silent feet to where his sleeping wife lay, stopping a few feet from the bed to observe her. The firelight gave a slight glow to her pale skin; giving it the appearance of having the bloom of health once more, but Mikhal knew it was only an illusion. The shadows under her eyes were still pronounced, even in the diminished light, and they betrayed how weak she really was. Again, Mikhal felt a twinge of disquiet stirring deep inside him at the sight of his once fiery Gypsy bride lying so pale and ill, but he dismissed it, firmly pushing any tender feelings for Alliana from his heart.
Thalia had looked up as he drew near, and rose from her seat by the bed. Mikhal motioned for the servant to follow him, and led her away from Alliana’s bed, so as not to disturb her. “Did my wife eat both the bread and broth that Enid prescribed?”
“Yes, My Lord. She ate every bit.” In truth, Alliana had struggled to swallow the contents of her supper tray, but Thalia was afraid to reveal this fact to her Master. All that really mattered was that Lady Arcos had in fact followed his orders and eaten almost every bite.
“And the tonic, you gave her the required dose?”
“Yes, My Lord. She fell right off afterwards, and has been resting peacefully ever since.”
“Very good. You may leave us. I will ring if there is anything else.” Thalia bobbed her head and exited the chamber, being sure to close the door silently behind herself as Mikhal moved back to the bed to take the chair recently vacated by the maid.
He made no sound as he studied his wife, but his eyes spoke volumes. The sight of her distressed him greatly, and there was just a hint of fear in his normally cold blue gaze. She looked so frail, so vulnerable, and so very small against the pillows, tucked underneath the heap of furs like a child. He could hear the sound of her deep breathing and her strong regular heartbeats, and knew those signs boded well for her health, but still, seeing his once spirited bride looking so very frail alarmed him.
Gone was the vibrant girl so full of fury and fight that he’d scooped up onto his horse in the forest. Gone was the passionate woman who had graced his bed stirring his blood like no other, and gone was his wild Gypsy bride who had dared to berate him for his treatment of her. Now all he saw was a woman who was suffering at his hands. Enid had promised him that this girl could give him a son, but was his Alliana able to survive the ordeal?
The fact that it mattered if she did was something Mikhal refused to examine too closely. He told himself it wasn’t about caring. It had nothing to do with the girl herself, it was because his son would need to nurse from her breast. Their child may very well need this woman who was his mother because he would be from her magickal body. The babe would be very special, and it was possible that the milk of a wet nurse would not be able to sustain him. Alliana was his mate, his blood ran in her veins, as did hers in his, and their child was a special joining of their life’s force. He would be unique unto the world and if Alliana didn’t survive the birth, then his son might perish as well. Yes, that was the reason Mikhal wanted Alliana to come back to life. It was for his son. Never mind the stir of feelings that were tugging at his very core yet again. It was only natural to be concerned about one’s own child.
As he sat and attempted to rationalize his thoughts, Alliana began to toss her head on the pillow, clearly caught in a bad dream. A small cry of terror escaped her lips as she fought the demons in her nightmare, and it went straight to his heart, causi
ng the look of worry on his face to deepen to one of grave concern. Mikhal laid his hand over one of her tiny ones and stroked it with his thumb, then bent over and kissed her on the forehead ever so gently, so as not to wake her while murmuring soft words against her skin to calm her.
“Shhh. It’s all right, Pet. I’m here. Sleep now. You need to rest. You’re safe, Kitten.” The sound of his voice made her stiffen and gasp as her hands clenched the furs that covered her suddenly trembling body. Mikhal frowned at her distress, knowing deep inside that he caused it. It wasn’t his intent to disturb her, only to watch over her. He took one hand in both of his and stroked it, trying to uncurl her fingers while repeating his soothing words. In reply, Alliana opened her mouth in a silent cry of protest and tossed her head more fitfully upon the pillow in her drug-induced sleep, as she tried to pull her hand away from the monster she feared.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Alliana.” He couldn’t keep the edge from his voice, and his words only managed to incense her further, much to his dismay. Her reaction to his act of tender vigilance was not at all what he had planned. He’d come here for peaceful solace with his mate, but it looked as though Alliana had other ideas, and the thought that things were spinning out of his control yet again infuriated Mikhal. He’d been berated and attacked by his sister and had come here looking to find comfort in the presence of his wife, but now Alliana was shunning him and it disturbed him greatly. Knowing he should go, but angered that he hadn’t been able to play the part of the doting husband, he strode to the bell pull and summoned Thalia.
The maid appeared at once. She’d been unable to relax in her own chambers because of her worry over the Mistress. She’d had misgivings about leaving the vulnerable woman alone with the evil Mikhal the Merciless, but knew she had no choice. Though it had been only a few days, Thalia had seen the cruelty Alliana had been subjected to, and she had witnessed the strength with which the new Lady Arcos had withstood each attack. Like it or not, her tarnished image of the Gypsies was being put to the test, and Alliana was coming out the winner.
“You called for me, My Lord?”
“Yes, something is wrong with my wife. She’s agitated. Didn’t you give her the entire tonic Enid prescribed? You were entrusted to care for her, you fool, not blunder a simple task.”
Thalia began to tremble. She’d done exactly as she’d been told, but still her Master was finding fault. “Yes, My Lord. I was very careful and gave her exactly what the midwife instructed.”
“Well you must have done something wrong. Look at her.” Both Mikhal and Thalia turned towards the bed on the far side of the chamber. During his absence from her side, Alliana had calmed considerably and appeared to be resting quite peacefully once more. Thalia, wise enough to hold her tongue, stood mutely, waiting for her Lord to comment further, and hoping Alliana’s restful sleep would spare her a harsh punishment.
He strode across the room to look more closely at his wife, concerned that she may have lapsed into unconsciousness, but her quite steady breathing and calm heartbeat told only of a peaceful sleep. Relieved, he sat by the bed, only to have her become distressed by his proximity once again.
Mikhal pushed his chair backwards in a fit of rage, and shot to his feet, fury contorting his handsome features. How dare she be so disturbed by his presence? He was here to take care of her, to watch over her. He, Mikhal the Merciless, was willing to coddle her like a nursemaid, and she didn’t appreciate it. He hadn’t even punished her for her rudeness to Enid or embarrassing him in front of his minions and making him take leave of the banquet early, yet still she was afraid.
What did she want of him? He had put her to bed in the most comfortable way possible, had a servant waiting on her hand and foot, was treating her as if she were actually the true lady of the castle, and she wasn’t grateful at all. This was simply not how a wife should act. Hadn’t he been gentle? Hadn’t he shown her kindness? Hadn’t he even turned on his own sister for the sake of her safety? What was wrong with the girl?
The sudden urge to throttle his wife became almost overwhelming, and Mikhal knew he had to leave her chambers immediately. “It’s obvious my spoiled wife doesn’t appreciate my attentions. You are to stay with her through the night. I shall return in the morning when the midwife arrives. You are not to leave her side. Is that understood?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Mikhal looked at Alliana once again, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth, fighting for the words to save face in front of the servant girl, but knowing there were none. “And see to it that you do your job properly! Close those drapes around her bed so she doesn’t catch a chill. What were you thinking?”
“Forgive me My Lord. The Mistress requested that I leave them open.”
“And why pray tell would she make such an absurd request when she is already ill?”
Thalia looked down, frightened. If she told him the truth, he might very well become angry enough to kill her outright, but if she held her tongue she was sure to be punished severely. “She... the Mistress said that if someone were going to come storming in to molest her in the night, she wanted to see her enemy’s face before they dealt the first blow.”
Thalia bit her lip, bracing herself for her Lord’s reaction, and Mikhal, true to form, didn’t disappoint her. She dared to glance up as a low growl filled the chamber, then stumbled back and gave a squeak of terror as his eyes blazed amber.
“I’m sorry, My Lord. Please. Lady Arcos is nervous because I was not allowed to lock the chamber door.”
“Nor will you ever be. Do as I told you girl and pull the drapes. My wife won’t be disturbed. I control the comings and goings of those in this castle and no one shall enter these chambers. See my orders are followed or you shall find yourself servant to one of my minions.”
Thalia hurriedly pulled the heavy drapes around the bed, shutting out the cold air that would seep into the chamber as the night wore on, not sparing another glance back at her Master. She prayed he would forget about his anger towards her in light of her instant obedience. The thought of being given to one of the lesser vampires sent chills through her bones. That would indeed be a fate worse than death.
Without another word, Mikhal left the chamber of his sleeping wife. As he went, he allowed his fury at her impertinent behavior to wash away the tender feelings that had been rearing their ugly heads while he’d been sitting at her side. She was just a human; the whore who would birth his son; a plaything to be used in his bed when it was safe. Nothing more. Marishka was wrong about the mating claim. It meant nothing to him, nothing at all. The thought that it would give his wife a hold over his emotions was sheer folly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andor unwrapped Marishka’s arms from around his burning body, and slid from beneath the linens. Every inch of his skin still blazed with fire from the bite of the whip that she’d used to shred his skin. His Mistress had gone at him long and hard during their session, taking her rage for Mikhal the Merciless’s whore out on him, her most willing of victims. And though he’d been glad to take her pain, he’d envisioned the Gypsy bitch and his Master with every cruel lash that struck, and let the agony that seared his body time and again fuel his hatred for the both of them.
He tried to stand next to the bed, knowing he had a mission that night, but he was weak, oh so weak, and had to clutch the bedpost for support. Though he was driven in his quest to bring down his hated Lord, Andor knew he needed to feed first or he would perish.
He’d taken his fill of a kitchen maid earlier, leaving her in a heap in front of the hearth before coming to see his Princess of the Night, knowing he’d need sustenance for his brutal ordeal, but that nourishment was a thing of the past. Marishka had, as expected, whipped nearly every last drop of his stolen blood from his body, then lapped him clean, filling her own belly as he hung trembling and weak. She now lay completely sated upon the bed, worn out from her efforts to whip him until her pain left her heart, and the frantic sexual coupling that
followed.
Sinking to his knees, he crawled across the chamber silently, and then pulled the bell cord that would beckon some hapless wench from below to fill his belly. It was a ritual that was repeated almost nightly, and he was sure his summons caused a stir of terror in all who heard it. He gave a slight smile at their fear, and mused that this one shouldn’t have any cause for complaint. She would after all be spared the rape of the other he’d taken in the kitchen earlier; he simply needed her to feed from so that he might regain his strength.
She entered in but a few minutes, without a sound, knowing that to wake the Mistress with futile screams and protests would bring about a fate worse than death, and came to him, eyes shining with tears, to lay in his arms so that he could tear into the tender flesh of her throat and regain his vitality once more.
When he was done, he rose and carried the girl’s lifeless body to the door, throwing her into the corridor like a bit of discarded rubbish. Andor knew it wouldn’t do to have his Mistress find her chamber littered with the corpse of a human when she awoke. He’d made that mistake once and only once.
Crossing the chamber again, Andor slowly pulled on his clothing, wincing at the pain of the fabric brushing over the barely healed cuts that covered him. He knew that his Mistress would sleep deeply after her exhausting ordeal, and while she slept, he had important plans to tend to Mikhal the Merciless and the bitch he had mated had to be taken down, and the sooner Andor put his plan for his Master’s destruction into motion, the better.
Bending over the bed, kissing Marishka tenderly on her cold, silky cheek, he whispered the words of love he never dared to speak, and left the room for a secret meeting in the woods with a man whom he hoped would join him in his quest. Unbeknownst to him however, they would not be alone in the forest.
Beneath the Shadows of Evil... Taken Page 18
