Dancing With Death: Ensnared and Enraptured (Evading Death Book 1)

by C. P. Mandara

  There was another chuckle inside her head. This time she did not even pause as her footfalls continued to splatter a pathway towards their goal. She’d let him enjoy these humble thoughts. At least they would prevent him from gaining any further information on her whereabouts. He’d probably pinpointed her position fairly accurately from her earlier clues, but all she could do now was employ damage control. How did you compete with an adversary who could read your mind? As the thought entered her head, she banished it and dived down a dark, narrow alleyway, careful to keep her feet moving forwards and her mind on the past.

  Martinet had allowed her a chance at killing him. Now, it seemed incredible, even to her. Did he want to die? Or had he already known he was invincible? Most vampires did not go quietly to their graves, quite the opposite in fact. They usually fought with the most amazing tenacity. What was his deal? It was exasperating, but after having tried her hardest to kill him using every trick in the book, he appeared unbreakable. Wooden stakes had simply bounced off him and her solid silver blade hadn’t made a mark on the pristine skin of his neck. He was the first vampire to have dulled her blade, and she was still reeling from the shock. It appeared she had just picked a fight with the most dangerous vampire in the land, and, what was more, he intended to make her pay for the blunder with her life.

  Whilst he had given her an opportunity to kill him without his interference, there had been conditions attached to his offer. Quite sizable and serious conditions, to her mind:

  ‘If you fail, I fancy you’ll be the first of my new breed of children. Depending on how exacting my desire for revenge is, I might even take you for a bride, an eternal one, Violetta.’

  At the time she had felt confident of her success. Without his glowing blue eyes upon her, she felt she stood more than a fighting chance of ending his miserable existence. How wrong had she been? His words echoed in her head once more. No, not that, never that, please help her, God. It would be a fate worse than death. Death could be quick and painless or it could be a long, drawn out and painful affair, but it would never be as bad as the re-incarnation of her body as a vampire, enslaved to him.

  When he had initially issued his threat, she had thought that he required a blood-slave or a servant to cook and clean for him. He had quickly disabused her of that notion. He wanted a warm, willing body underneath his and he intended to do terrible things with her. The man wanted to play with her and he wanted sex! No-one had ever been allowed near her body. A huntress was supposed to keep herself pure and untouched. Killing vampires was almost a religion in itself and she was told she needed no further complications that relationships with the male gender would inevitably provide. Besides, a watchful eye was kept upon her at all times. At the slightest fraternisation with a man, her mentor would frown at her, shake her head, and Violetta would meekly obey orders and stand behind the ranks of her peers. She had known the sacrifices that the job would entail. She hadn’t realised how onerous they would be as each year passed, but she could hardly cry foul now.

  Diverting her attention back, to concentrate on the events of the evening and not the scenery around her, she was careful to make sure that her eyes focused on little more than the uneven sea of worn cobblestones beneath her feet. She would not give him any further clues to her whereabouts. She couldn’t afford to give him anything, for the tiniest mistake on her behalf could result in an expiry date on her life that was about sixty years sooner than she’d hoped for.

  Her thoughts turned to dwell on her last attempt at extinguishing his life, back in the Castello’s gardens. She’d hit the ground with such force that something inside her had snapped and it hadn’t been her temper, unfortunately. Excruciating pain had radiated down from her left shoulder on contact with the hard earth and it brought tears to her eyes. It was unlike anything she had ever known, and at first it had been an effort just to force simple words past her mouth. When he had insisted they go back to the crowded ballroom and dance, she had looked at him in horror and issued her refusal.

  ‘You will do anything I tell you to, and believe me when I say that your pain will be my pleasure.’

  What those words had done to her body! Reliving them now caused a sharp shudder of longing to rip through her and she was chagrined to find that the arousal she felt was all very much her own. Martinet was too attractive, too perfect, too arrogant for his own good, and… her libido seemed to respond to that in the oddest way. Hot floods of heat washed through her cheeks and the warmth worked its way downwards, finding an epicentre at the juncture of her thighs. For the first time in her life, her panties had become wet. Not just a little bit damp, but absolutely sodden. It had been a humiliating experience, made one hundred times worse by the fact that he could read her mind. She could almost feel him rooting around in her brain, wondering what little titbit he could use to best advantage later. How did you compete with someone like that? How did you fight back? Every time he asked her a question the answer nearly burst its way past her lips in its eagerness to escape. It was clear that humans were nothing more than puppets to him; worthless beings that could be played with and manipulated to dance to his every tune. She would be his new toy and it would give him great pleasure to break her, if she allowed herself to be caught. She almost laughed to herself at the thought. Who was she kidding? It was hardly like she had a choice in the matter.

  She remembered the bright lights of the ballroom and the dazzle and glare as her eyes had adjusted from the darkness of the garden, her head automatically positioning itself in the hard curve of his neck. It galled her no end to realise Martinet could control her with such ease. If he’d let her go, she would have fallen to her knees in agony. Her arm was in a state of furious pain which demanded all of her attention. Being spun around in a dizzying arc of flowing organza and curling ribbons only served to compound the throbbing bone and she had desperately wanted to beg for his mercy. Her pride had kept her from uttering the feeble words, but only just. It didn’t much matter. The beast knew everything that went on in her head. He had offered to take ‘the nasty ache away,’ his words not hers, but there had been a catch to his benevolent gesture.

  ‘Your complete surrender, my dear. Your capitulation to my every whim and desire. Oh, and your soul, of course.’

  She’d declined his touching offer, but Martinet wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. He’d retaliated by thrusting himself into her mind and propelling her into a stone cavern, his bedroom, if she wasn’t much mistaken. He’d then laid his filthy hands all over her and damned if she hadn’t enjoyed it. His touch kindled fires that she hadn’t known existed and now that she’d been introduced to the sensation, she wanted more, but not from him. Violetta recalled the beautifully carved, dark oak posts of his four poster bed, the crimson drapes and the matching satin sheets. It was a well-cared for antiquity that would easily have had several noughts attached to its price tag. Breathtakingly beautiful, the sight of it, when she had dared to look a little closer, made her shudder. The vision of shiny, steel handcuffs and reels of black, hessian rope that adorned the posts would be forever burned into her mind. How many other humans had he toyed with in this way she wondered? Or was it possible she would be the first? It seemed doubtful. He’d probably had lots of practice at corrupting innocent young minds and polluting their flesh. At that thought, more laughter appeared and it echoed inside her head, bouncing around madly like a team of toddlers at a birthday party. How dare he invade her mind!

  ‘Oh, you have no idea how much I would dare to do, both to that exquisitely beautiful body of yours and to your mind. I will enjoy every single second of my revenge, cherie. I will play your body like Mozart played the piano, but better and with more enthusiasm. My hands, my lips and my tongue will bring you to life and they will teach you things you’ve never even dreamt off. It will be the sweetest pleasure and the most terrible torment to endure my training, Violetta.’

  Trying desperately hard to shut his voice out of her head, she concentrated on reac
hing her destination. Her run had now slowed to a pathetically brisk walk, but she ploughed on as fast and as hard as she was able. Gritting her teeth against the fierce pain that emanated from her shoulder, she knew it wouldn’t be long before the Piazza San Marco came into view.

  ‘I will teach you to worship my touch. You will learn that your place is beside me, kneeling at my feet.’

  She snorted with laughter, even though it cost her dearly, for the throb of her shoulder brought tears to her eyes. Cradling the injured limb in her free arm, she stumbled forward and tried to ignore his insistent presence.

  ‘You will be trained in the arts of pleasure, obedience and servitude. You will excel at them all, and when I get bored of tasting the delicious vintage that flows throughout your body, I will change you and then your torment will really begin. Will you fight me, Violetta?’

  She couldn’t help herself and riposted back with, ‘Every step of the damn way.’

  ‘Good,’ was his succinct reply, followed by, ‘how’s the neck?’

  Violetta gave a strangled wail. She had wanted to forget their last little foray back at the Castello. He had uttered demands that she send her colleagues packing, of which she immediately refused. They were the only safety net that she had left after he’d revealed his many considerable and unsavoury talents. Martinet was clever, though, and knew he’d have to get rid of them if he stood a reasonable chance at abducting her. Alas, it had taken him no more than a few seconds to achieve his goal. Another thrust and he’d anchored himself in her head once more, but this time he was taking no prisoners.

  ‘Tsk, tsk. This simply won’t do. You’ve yet to learn the consequences of disobeying me, but you will, cherie. When I say jump, you say how high, how far, and in what direction?’

  With those ominous words, her head had exploded in a gruesome blood bath. Martinet had visually demonstrated exactly what he would do to her friends if she chose to disobey him and it wasn’t in the least bit pretty. He’d inserted himself inside her brain while he ripped heads from necks, tore through flesh and bone with his talons, and his finale, to really hammer his point home, had been his fist tearing a beating heart out through her mother’s chest. Her mind had nearly crumbled to ashes. She’d pleaded with him to stop his vision and had begged to be set free of its malice. He’d let her go, but on the condition that she get rid of her accomplices.

  ‘Tell your friends that you are about to finish me off in the gardens and will return with the evidence in due course. That is what they usually expect, is it not?’

  She had replied, somewhat shakily, with the news that they would require blood for evidence of his death. It would be a little tricky to provide if he intended to live through the experience. Vampires did not relinquish their precious red nectar easily. The reasons were many, but the most important was that they surrendered power and strength with each drop lost. To the undead, a drop of the red stuff was their most precious belonging.

  ‘They will get it: yours, but don’t worry, your wound will not be mortal. Now be a good girl and get over there before I renege on our deal and begin a storm of carnage that would impress Genghis Khan.’

  She had not doubted for a moment that his threat was real. The look in his eyes as he’d said it had been unholy, to say the least.

  Having no option but to appear to obey his words, she watched him stalk off to the gardens once more, now awaiting her presence as the almighty huntress. Violetta had been nearly paralysed with fear for a moment, which was laughable. The huntress had become the hunted. She’d been backed into a very small corner where someone’s hands remained constantly around her throat, waiting for the slightest provocation to tighten them. She could not think out a plan of attack. He was inside her mind and body, an insidious presence that would watch over every move she made. He had the power to force words through her lips, make her run, dance, hop or jig merrily to whatever tune he chose to play. He could also, humiliatingly, control all of her bodily functions. She was at his utter mercy, and he did not appear to be in the least bit merciful with regards to her life. He wanted to play with her and torment her, as a cat would plague an injured bird: to the death, and more frighteningly, perhaps beyond.

  What he didn’t know, though, was that her little brain was a lot smarter than it appeared. She hadn’t lost all of her cards, not yet. There were some things that you always kept close to your chest.

  Watering the Garden

  Martinet had stopped the pain radiating out from her shoulder as she made a beeline towards the gathered crowd of her friends, but she didn’t think him any less of a monster for his small kindness. If he’d wanted her to speak in a calm, even voice, and be in the slightest bit believable, it was the very least he’d have to do. The speed in which he’d managed to set her body to rights had been astounding, though. One minute she’d been crippled with agony, heart racing, skin deathly white and barely able to get a word past her dry lips. In the next, her cheeks were once again rosy in colour, eyes sparkling with health and her breathing had returned to a slow and easy pace. Violetta was gliding across the parquet floor of the ballroom as if she hadn’t a care in the world, a hand flouncing up to caress a lock of her red hair as she toyed with it in a flirtatious manner. He prevented the growl that wanted to escape from her throat at his meddling interference.

  ‘I am not trying to attract a suitor, so leave me be.’ She pushed the thought at him with a little more force than necessary and knew that he’d received it when she heard his answering laugh.

  ‘Bored of suitors already, Violetta? How many have you had in that short life-span of yours? Can’t be more than a couple, can it?’

  The reply of ‘none’ wanted to fly from her lips, but she managed to hold it in, barely, whilst she directed her thoughts towards puncturing his body with numerous sharp and delightfully pointed instruments of death.

  ‘My, my, my, such temper in one so young. You’ll need to learn to control that, sweetness, or I assure you there’ll be repercussions.’ It was clear by the tone of his voice that Martinet was amused and, if anything, it just infuriated her more.

  ‘I will never stop trying to kill you,’ she bit back telepathically. ‘Every waking moment you will need to watch me, because if you let down your guard for the merest instance and I find a way of ending you, it will be done. Leave me here, beast, and go find one of your own kind to torment.’

  ‘Oh, I would,’ came the now soft and menacing reply, ‘but you’ve killed all the ones in these parts, I believe.’ The voice that uttered those words was deadly.

  A flash of horrific pain hit her as he let her shoulder make its presence known once more. There was a tight gasp and her feet went out from under her, pitching her body forward into the thronging crowds. Almost as soon as it had appeared, the pain vanished – but it had served its purpose as a warning. Violetta would have to guard her viperish tongue or face the consequences. Setting out both arms to steady herself, she apologised to the portly gentleman she had just careened into and exchanged the required pleasantries before making her excuses to depart. The balding man, whose eyes had taken on a luminous gleam at having such a pretty maiden fall at his feet, held on to her arm for a few seconds longer than necessary. With a little effort on her part, she managed to wrench herself away with a smile and continue forward to her objective. What would she say to them? Was it possible they would believe her lies? Eleanor, an older huntress and her mentor, would see through her in a second. She would have to direct her speech at someone less astute. Connaught was the obvious choice. He was still a good friend but not on the same personal level as her so-called ‘mother.’ He would not be able to read her so keenly. He would not smell the lie. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t, for the lives of her friends rested upon him believing her. She had no doubt that Martinet would carry through with his threats if she failed and create a massacre of the grandest proportions. Better one life to be hers, than all of her comrades.

  ‘So noble, Violetta. Do get on wi
th it, dear, or I may have to get out my hankie,’ he drawled in a bored fashion.

  Her back wanted to stiffen at his comment and her tongue wanted to lash out, but neither options were apparently available to her, so it was with great chagrin that she found herself smiling sweetly and turning her face around to address Connaught with his familiar nickname.

  ‘Con, I’ve found him,’ she whispered, in a sickly sweet, girly voice that was full of excitement and awe. They were not her own words and the inflection upon them was all Martinet’s own. He manipulated her with far too much skill and for that alone she wanted to scratch his eyes out. In her head she was horrified that he’d already began plucking secrets from her mind, and, what was even more galling was the knowledge that it would be the first of many. He had her at his complete and utter mercy.

  ‘Good girl,’ whispered Con, with a congratulatory wink and a pat on the back. It was clear that he suspected nothing was amiss by his relaxed posture and wide smile. ‘Now that you have him where you want him, what are you going to do with him?’ The question was an old one and said for rhetorical effect, but she didn’t feel the desire to smile as she normally would have. Alas, Martinet had other plans for her. Tinkling peals of laughter erupted from her throat and her face returned Con’s large grin.

  ‘Be back in five minutes,’ she cooed, whilst her hands flounced the folds of her dress back and forth. She wanted to roll her eyes at the ridiculously childish action, but that, too, was denied her.