by Amy Miles
I watch as Miron stumbles down the path, his sack dragging in the dirt behind him as he clutches his wounded shoulder. His pace is slow, much too slow.
I hurt him, whispers through my mind as he turns back when he reaches the crest of the road. Just over the hill lies the town and beyond that his family. Please hurry.
The look of betrayal in his eyes stings. However, as I place my palm to the ground, fear sweeps in to steal away my guilt. I can feel the heavy footfalls echoing up through the packed earth. “Run!”
He glances back over his shoulder at me and I watch as terror roots him in place. I do not have to look to know that Vladimir stands behind me. I can smell the blood that stains his skin, moist and fresh. Closing my eyes, I pray Miron will be granted a reprieve. However, in the pit of my stomach I know I am about to witness another death.
Please spare his family, I silently pray as Vladimir stoops beside me. His blackened eyes are wide and unblinking as he looks me over. My lip begins to tremble and my hands quake as he reaches out for me. I shy away and a soft mewing sound escapes my lips as he lays his hand upon my knee. The muscle along his jaw flinches as he stares down at my broken ankle. “The human did this to you?”
“No. He came to my aid…” I trail off as my husband’s eyes narrow.
“He dared to touch you?” He rages, ignoring my pleas as he blurs from sight. Vladimir reappears a second later beside Miron. I turn away at the older man’s cry of alarm.
The snapping of his spine echoes through the early morning calm. I shudder at the sound of his lifeless body slumping to the ground, feeling a numbness sweep over me. Tears spill freely down my cheeks, pattering against my bloody bodice. My head feels light, though my body feels weighted to the ground.
Strong hands wrap about my arms and hoist me into the air. I blink against the tears and come face to face with Lucien. His clipped beard is moist and the spaces between his teeth are filled with thick blood. His lips peel back into a crimson sneer. “You weep for the human.”
“He was innocent,” I whimper as his fingers dig into my bruised flesh. My ankle throbs terribly as he shakes me. My teeth pierce the flesh of my lip and blood seeps from the corner of my lip.
“Release her,” Vladimir calls from just over my shoulder.
Lucien’s gaze shifts as I cower in his grasp, grateful to no longer be the center of his attention. “She cries for the man,” he spits out.
“Let her cry. It is her human weakness leaving her.” Vladimir pats him on the shoulder, and I cringe as they both shift to stare down at me. I feel so small, so insignificant before them. “She is still young yet, brother. Give her time to adjust to our ways.”
Livid eyes drill into me as Lucien draws me close. I turn my face away, holding my breath so as not to ingest the scent of death clinging to him. “Perhaps we were in error in selecting her.”
“No.” Vladimir’s face is void of emotion, though his eyes are not. They roam down my exposed neck and linger at the low cut of my bodice. I tug at my shawl, desperate to hide from his gaze. “She is perfect.”
Lucien’s growl is low and threatening as he turns to glare at my husband. “This is about far more than your lusts, Vladimir.”
“Peace, brother. I know what is at stake. You were correct from the beginning. She is the one.”
Blood trickles from my arms where Lucien’s nails bury into my flesh. I whimper though I do not pull away, knowing that by doing so it will only be worse. Lucien has proven that he likes inflicting pain. “We shall see.”
He tosses me aside without a second thought. I cry out as I slam to the ground. My vision darkens as I collapse to the dirt, pressing my cheek to the cool earth. Strong hands grasp my arms and I shriek, clawing to be free. “Peace, my dear,” Vladimir croons as he lifts me effortlessly. I tremble at the feel of his arms around me. Tears slip from my eyes at the memories of the pain those arms inflicted only a few hours ago.
“You are injured.” It is not a question, rather a statement, one spoken with swift reproach. He tugs my chin so I am forced to acknowledge him.
“I fell,” I whisper.
“While trying to escape.”
I lower my gaze and remain silent. Vladimir laughs and tightens his grip about me as he carries me toward the wagon. His grasp is firm though less painful than Lucien’s, almost as if he were carrying a child for whom he felt affection.
The thought is laughable. A monster does not care for its prey. It toys with it until there is nothing left, save a shattered soul too weary to fight back.
Vladimir walks at a human’s pace as Lucien races on ahead. It takes only a couple seconds for him to disappear from sight.
“How does Lucien move so swiftly?” I inquire, desperate to think upon something other than being in Vladimir’s arms.
“There are many things about our kind that you have yet to discover, Roseline. We are superior in every way to mortals.”
“Is that the reason you slaughter them?”
Vladimir’s grip tightens ever so slightly at my words. “No. I do that for pleasure.”
Goose bumps rise along my arms as I fall silent. I was a fool to ask such a question. I should have known I would not like the answer.
As we begin to ascend the hill at the curve of the road I realize I hardly feel discomfort in my ankle from his long gait. Vladimir holds me snug against his broad chest as he walks, poised on the balls of his feet instead of flat footed like a normal man.
He is attempting to ease my pain. This realization gives me no sense of gratitude. Rather it is the opposite. I stare at the man that I am now bound to, pondering what mind game he seeks to play.
Vladimir is a visually stunning man, with a tapered waist, broad shoulders, and a strong jawline that would give any woman reason to pause. However, that hesitation would be her downfall. I know from experience that he needs only a mere second to rip out your throat.
His skin is nearly white against the black clothes he wears. His hair unbound and spilling over his shoulders. His forearms are clothed in lean muscles, as are his legs and back. He has the body of a day laborer, though I have my suspicions he does little labor.
I have noticed changes within myself since I awoke last night. My hair seems longer and fuller, my waist narrower, and my hips flared in an appealing manner. My chest has blossomed in proper proportion for a young woman and my legs have lengthened, molded with graceful muscle. The hem of my dress now falls about the tops of my ankles instead of brushing my toes.
I long to know why I have changed, what I would look like in a mirror, though I dare not ask. Instead, I bite my tongue and wait for the wagon to appear on the road before us. I would rather live of a lifetime without answers than to ask anything of this vile man.
The sun has begun its rapid ascent in the sky. The horizon is splashed with hues of blues and purples as the moon is driven back to its slumber. I close my eyes as I embrace the new warmth that seeks to drive away the fear encasing my heart.
“We can walk in the day,” Vladimir says. I open my eyes to see him watching me. “The rumors of vampyres are flawed. Ludicrous in their falsehood. Mortals do not know what we are, so they let their fears run rampant with wild tales.”
“I was told that your flesh burns when it touches the light of day.”
“Do not sound so hopeful.” Vladimir laughs as he waves Lucien forward. The horses rear back as they draw near to us, stomping nervously at the ground as Vladimir approaches. Even they must smell death on him. “Do you feel as if you might burst into flame?”
“No.” I admit as I glance back toward the sun. “I have no sins to atone for though.”
“Do you not?” He mocks as Lucien whips the horses into submission and they settle so we may pass beside them. As he lifts me into the back of the wagon, I can see his amused smile. “We shall have to remedy that.”
I drag myself away from him as he trails his fingers down my arm with a smile infused with growing lust. I draw my filthy shawl about my sh
oulders and drape it across my chest as a tremor of fear ripples through me. His lips peel back into a knowing grin. “We shall arrive at Castle Bran by nightfall. We have much to celebrate, my dear.”
I raise my good leg to my chest and bury my forehead into my knee. Warm tears come before I can stop them. Vladimir’s chuckle makes my stomach roil as he leaves me to join Lucien. The wagon hardly jostles as he leaps up onto the bench seat.
“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Vladimir turns. I look up, wiping away my tears. He tosses a bundle of cloth over his shoulder at me and I am forced to lunge forward to retrieve it. I cry out as pain lances through my leg. The bundle nearly slips through my fingers. It is heavier than it appears.
I draw it into my lap and slowly unfold the rags. My breath catches as I reveal a tiny baby, hardly past its first season change. Blood is splattered across its face, though it appears unharmed, albeit it eerily still and silent.
I look up at Vladimir in horror. “What is this?”
His grin widens as he looks down at the innocent babe. “A snack.”
FIVE
