I limp over to my mirror and turn just enough to see the purple splotch spreading across my lower back, from hip to hip. I wince, biting down on my lip as I place a cold cloth over my bare right side.
Fane told me our training would be trying, though I never imagined just how painful it would be once we actually started hand-to-hand combat, which commenced shortly after the dagger throwing since I was in sore need of a distraction after our near kiss.
Fane was right to leap to distract me. Without his attack, I would have been a flutter of nerves. Instead, I spent the remainder of the afternoon fending off sneak attacks while blindfolded. He kept his touch firm and demanding, allowing me to think past the moment we shared earlier in the day.
To be fair, I believe I did a fairly decent job of combating him, considering this was my first real attempt at taking down an opponent. At first, Fane let me fight with all of my senses, though once his movements became too predictable, he tied a cloth about my eyes and I was plunged into darkness. This served two purposes. The first and most important was to learn how to rely on my other senses should I find myself trapped in the dark with a hunter. The second was to help me deal with my own terror of being helpless during an attack.
Although Fane never said a word, I know this part of my training bothered him. Each time he would strike my skin and I would cry out, mostly from surprise, he would hesitate. Once I began to see a pattern, I was able to use this to my advantage.
My proudest moment came just before the sun began to dip toward the distant tree line and I managed to best Fane, sending him flying backward into a tree. He came up spluttering as I ripped off my mask and planted my foot firmly atop his chest. My smug smile faltered, though, when I realized I had a dagger pressed to my inner thigh. Fane is good. I doubt there are many immortals who could take him in an open fight.
After only a single afternoon, I have earned more bruises from him than I have from spending a night with Vladimir, though I will wear these with pride. You are improving, are the words that kept me going as I limped back up to the castle as the sun began to set.
He believes in me when I cannot. When he told me to leap to the top of a tree, I laughed at him, sure he was jesting. When he wrapped his arms about my waist and hurled me into the tree, I stopped laughing. I barely had time to grasp the branch before I crashed back to Earth. I suppose this will be a skill I will master another day.
I turn away from the mirror as my door bursts open. My smile vanishes as Vladimir crosses the threshold. I dash to my bed, covering my nakedness with my hands and arms. He watches me, his expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“You are not hiding anything that has not already been seen, my love.” I can hear the annoyance seeping through his slurred words. His breath reeks of blood, his clothes of cheap perfume and horsehair.
I straighten, though I do not release my hold on my chest. “I was not expecting you so soon.”
“No?” He steps inside and closes the door behind him. My stomach rises into my throat as he slowly begins to remove his gloves. When his hands drift to his belt, I feel sheer panic grip me. In his current state, he is not of sound mind to remember his pledge to be gentler with me before the hunt. There is a savage glint in his eyes as I back away until my spine is pressed against the cold wall. Vladimir grins. He likes it when I feel trapped.
His belt buckle drops at his feet. He never breaks eye contact with me as he pushes his pants to the floor and removes his shoes. “The hunt is only a couple days from now,” I say as I press against the wall.
Vladimir’s teeth peel back from his lips. His steps falter as he approaches. As my husband begins to unlace the leather thongs that hold the neckline of his shirt together, my mind races, desperate to grasp onto anything that might save me from this coming torture.
His approach is slow and purposeful, that of a hunter who enjoys taunting its prey. I can see the enjoyment he gets from watching me cower. I want to close my eyes and trap myself in a safe place within my mind, to hide until he is finished, yet I cannot. I stare at him, focusing on the black, soulless eyes that have haunted me every day and night since my wedding, and something shifts. To some it would seem a miniscule shift, yet to me… it is life changing.
“No.” I shake my head and drop my hands.
Never before have I stood before him completely disrobed. Not like this. Not with defiance.
“What did you say to me?” His upper lip curls into a snarl. His fingers clench into fists at his sides, and I know pain will soon follow so I do the one thing that might tip the scales in my direction.
I take a step toward him. Vladimir freezes. “I said no. If you wish me to survive the hunt, you will leave me be.”
His pale skin blotches red as he stares at me with unrepentant and crazed anger. “You dare tell me no?”
In a single leap, he lands before me, his hands grasping my arms to yank me away from the wall. I clamp my eyes closed against the tears that threaten to fall at the feel of his touch against my bare skin.
As his hands drift down to my bare hips, bending me over, I spin and slap him across the face. His eyes widen in surprise and he takes a step back. I fight to keep a smile of triumph from my lips as I stare him down. “I said no.”
Vladimir’s mouth opens and closes as he blinks rapidly. I can see his confusion and beyond that an emotion buried deep, seeking to rise to the surface. One that makes my blood run cold: approval.
What have I done?
With a swift open palm punch to my chest, he sends me sprawling back onto the bed. I claw at the bedding, trying to flee before he is upon me. He flips me over and traps me between his legs. “Fane told me you were a fighter, though I had my doubts.”
His grasp on my arms brings tears to my eyes that I cannot stop. His nails dig into my flesh as blood trickles from my wrists. Without breaking eye contact, he raises my right arm and slowly licks at my blood. His moan makes my stomach convulse, yet he holds tightly to my waist with his knees.
Locking my arms over my head, he slowly leans down until he is only an inch from my lips. “I do so hope you win the hunt. I look forward to many more… experiences with you.”
His hand weaves its way down my stomach, pausing to grip my hip. I wince as he presses against my bruise. Vladimir grins. “It looks as if I am not the only one who has been teaching you a lesson.”
He slaps my hip and I bite down on my lip to still my cry. I no longer want to fight back. I just want him to finish and leave me alone, though Vladimir has no intention of leaving me quickly. I can see the truth of this glinting in his blackened eyes.
As his fists pound into my flesh and I bite through my lower lip to hold back my screams, I wonder if Fane is out there somewhere in the dark. Is he trying not to listen? Does he feel rage at my abuse?
Minutes turn into hours as I endure pain and humiliation. Vladimir never tires. He hardly gives me a chance to breathe between punches or jabs before his hands tighten around my throat and I am tossed across the room, bouncing off the corner of a dresser.
As the first hint of dawn begins to crest the bottom ledge of my window, I close my eyes and pray for an end.
When a knock sounds at my door an hour later, I curl into a ball, shivering from the pain. “Roseline?”
I bury my tears into the pillow as the latch shifts on the door. I hear the hinges squeak, followed quickly by the hiss of breath. “Roseline!”
Fane leaps to my bedside and instantly curls me up into his chest. I let him lift me into his arms as he turns and sinks back onto the soft surface of my bed. I feel like a child in his embrace, small and broken.
My hair is matted against my forehead and cheeks. Sweat and blood mingle along my brow and seep from both of my ears. My body is a patchwork of bruises, some bold and wide, others small yet purposeful.
Fane says nothing. He just rocks me, his head pressed against the top of mine.
I cling to him, digging my fingers into his arms as the tears come. I d
o not try to hide them as my body is wracked with sobs. Never before has Vladimir broken me quite like this. He loves to mess with my mind, damage my body, though this time he messed with my soul too. He spoke of my sister as he beat me, used me. He spoke of the sweet taste of my mother’s blood, of Lucien’s pleasure over feeding off my cousins as they pleaded for their lives. He made me relive it all.
“I heard your screams and tried to come for you. Lucien had me chained in my room so I would not interfere.” Fane’s voice cracks as his fingers tighten around me. I can hear the revulsion in his words and know it has little to do with me. “What happened?”
“I said no,” I whisper into his chest.
Fane pulls back until I look up at him. My eyes are puffy, my nose running profusely, though he notices none of it. A small, pained smile brightens his face. “That took great courage.”
I shrug. “I was foolish.”
“No.” Fane lifts his hand from where he holds my leg to keep me perched upon his lap and gently grasps my chin. “The girl I met only a few moons ago would never have stood up to him. I am proud of you.”
I lower my gaze. Shame washes over me as I think back on the past few hours.
“It hurts.” I turn away, embarrassed by my weakness. I should be stronger now, capable of handling the pain, yet I cannot. I feel as if I have shattered into a millions shards of glass, unable to be mended.
Fane gently lifts me off his lap and sets me beside him. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches behind me and pulls the covers over my shoulders to veil my nakedness. “I know something that might help. Will you permit me to carry you?”
In the beginning, I would have been suspicious of his motives. Although Fane has never been anything save a gentleman with me, he now watches me with a bit more care than before. The look in his eyes warms me in places I had once thought would be dead forever, reminding me of our near kiss. “May I take the blanket too?”
He laughs and nods. I tuck the ends of the blanket around me, securing it as best as I can before he lifts me effortlessly. His gait is swift yet gentle as he carries me out into the hall. I feel him brace a split second before he leaps down the flight of stairs. I tense, sure the jarring landing will cause excruciating pain, though I hardly jostle at all.
“Ye of little faith.” He grins as he rises onto the balls of his feet and dashes down the hall.
As we burst from the confines of the castle, I nearly laugh out loud at the exhilarating freedom I feel. Fane moves across the rolling terrain with surprising grace as we pass by our training grounds beneath the lofty spruce trees that line the eastern edge of the castle grounds.
“Where are you taking me?”
He remains silent as he shifts his gait to follow a winding path into an area I have yet to explore. Piles of pine needles dot the rock path as it weaves beneath towering spruce trees. I crane my neck to see what is before us and wince at the strain on my neck muscles and slowly lower back down.
“Are you always this inquisitive?” Fane’s chuckle rumbles deeply in his chest beside my arm.
“Usually. At least I always used to be…” I trail off as I am hit by the reminder of my former life. My throat tightens as I look away, hoping he does not realize how close I am to tears. Will this ever get any easier? Fane would tell me that it does, though even I know that is not true, not after seeing how hard it was for him to speak of his lost family.
“Well, concern yourself no more. We have arrived.”
I look up to find us standing beside a small pond no larger than thirty paces across. I turn and look back over his shoulder, searching for my turret through the maze of barren branches. I can just make out the orange tile roof.
“Are we still on castle lands?” I ask, feeling a slight hitch in my breath at the thought of being beyond Vladimir’s borders.
Fane smiles and slowly lowers me to my feet. “I am afraid so. They extend much farther than you would imagine. I believe much of this land was… passed along to Vladimir with only a small amount of negotiation on his part.”
“I imagine he was rather persuasive,” I mutter as I step toward the rippling water. The surface sparkles like fine crystal, marred only by the occasional leaf floating past. On the far side of the pond, dozens of geese mill about, no doubt attempting to avoid a hunter’s dinner table. How funny they would know that within these grounds they are not the first item on the menu.
The aged pine needles crunch beneath my bare feet. The grass is cool to the touch. I sink slowly to the ground and dig my fingers deep into the rich earth. The cool breeze rustles my hair as Fane drops to one knee beside me.
“There are rumors that these waters contain healing powers,” he whispers, only inches from my ear. I flinch at his sudden nearness, though I do not back away as I stare out over the sparkling surface.
“Do you believe such things?”
“No.” He falls silent for a moment. “Though the waters do feel good after a long, hard ride.”
He rises and steps back from me. I turn, surprised by his sudden departure. “You are leaving?”
“Only for a while. I assumed you would rather disrobe when I am not around, though I am willing if you are.” A tiny smirk appears at the corner of his lips before he turns and heads back up the gentle incline. I watch until he disappears over the crest.
I slowly turn back toward the water’s edge and a shiver seizes me. I have never been a fan of water. As a young girl, I nearly fell through a thin sheet of ice that covered the small duck pond at the back of our property. My mother had been furious, my father coolly indifferent. The fever nearly took me.
I remember my sister’s constant prayers as I lay shivering in my bed. My mother sat beside the fire, her knitting needles clicking with maddening speeds. She always did turn to her knitting when she was worried.
Since that day I have not stepped within a few feet of water’s edge and here I sit, desperate for relief from my aches and pains, though too terrified to move. I look back in the direction Fane went and realize he has not left me at all. He is simply waiting.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself as I gently tug the blanket from my shoulders. Instead of the anticipated chill from disrobing outdoors, I find myself smiling at the wind’s gentle caress against my skin.
Is that how the water will feel? I wonder as I gingerly rise to my feet. I waver unsteadily for a moment before taking a hesitant step forward. The soles of my feet sink into the damp soil as I near the edge. It crumbles beneath me, threatening to tumble me face first into the water.
“Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” I call over my shoulder toward Fane. He has begun to pace and I fear he will turn to check on my progress before I have dipped beneath the concealing waters.
“I suppose it is not as if water can harm me anymore,” I muse as I dip my toe into the water, thinking of how Fane promises I could spend an entire night in its depths without need to breathe.
The water feels deliciously cool against my foot as I step in, my arms spread wide for balance as I sink deep into the bank. The mud rises between my toes and I release a small squeal. A deep laugh from behind makes me purse my lips. “It is not amusing.”
“Perhaps not, though you most certainly are.”
I grit my teeth and fling myself into the pond, choking and pawing at the water as I poorly attempt to keep my head afloat. Within seconds, Fane is standing along the shore, his arms crossed over his chest and his smile broad. “Why did you not tell me you could not swim?”
“It is not that I cannot,” I splutter as I pick a leaf from the side of my face. My legs pedal beneath me to keep my chin just above the surface. “I just prefer dry land.”
“And yet you still entered…” He cocks his head to the side and watches me with that intense gaze that I have come to recognize. It is almost as if he is trying to peer into my mind.
“Do not look at me as if you think this decision was based on bravery.” I sweep my arms
back and forth, treading water to remain in place. There is a current within this small space. I should have realized it sooner when I watched the leaves floating toward the far shore.
It will not take long for me to tire, yet even as I realize how weary I should be, I also begin to notice that my muscles no longer hold the same ache. I stare up at Fane and know my thoughts are clearly written across my face.”
“You may thank me at your earliest convenience.” He grins.
“Are you always this haughty?” I shake my head and laugh as droplets of water from my hair splatter against his pristine pants. He does not back away. Instead, he drops into a crouch. His nearness makes me sink a bit lower beneath the surface.
“It was either this or blood. I assumed this would be far more preferable to you.”
I curl my lower lip with disgust. “I will never drink blood again.”
His knowing smile makes the tips of my ears burn. “Never is a very long time for our kind, Roseline.”
He rises to his full height, taking my blanket with him. He holds it out and turns his head to the side. “We should return you to the castle before someone begins to wonder where you have gotten off to.”
My stomach clenches at the thought. “No one ever looks for me.”
He tilts his head to the side yet does not look in my direction. The water laps about my chest as I slowly swim back toward the shore. “Perhaps not normally, though this is not a normal time.”
The hairs along my body rise as I step out of the pond and into the waiting blanket. Fane gently wraps it securely around me before he lowers his gaze to discover my curiosity. “Tomorrow night is the Avangor, the blood moon. They will come for you at sundown.”
“I do not understand. I still have three more days.
Fane nods solemnly. “Vladimir has chosen not to wait.”
I feel the familiar quake begin to rise within me. “I need more time.”
“There is none.” He raises his hands to hold me upright as I waver. “Time runs short.”
I stare up at him, knowing my fear is laid bare before him. Water droplets fall from my hair, pattering against my nose, and trail down my chin. I am warm and revived, yet an icy chill has seized me.
His lips part as his gaze shifts from my eyes to the quivering of my lips. “I told you I would ask again.”
I stiffen in his arms, terrified and filled with utter longing. It curls my toes and seeks to push back against the numbness. “This cannot be,” I whisper.
“Why can it not?” Fane steps near. I can feel the heat of his body beneath his leather vest. “Why can fate not give us this single moment of happiness?”
“Because it will never be enough. Do you not see this?” I shove my hair back from my face, swiping away the moisture that clings to my lashes. I am soaked through, yet I hardly feel a chill.
“If I allow myself to feel for you, it will be torture when you are gone and even more so when you are near. Lucien watches me like a hawk, and Vladimir…” I fight to suppress a shudder. “He will know.”
Fane steps closer, pressing the length of his body against mine. I can smell the scent of his longing pouring off him in rhythmic waves. “I am not the one who is blind, Roseline,” he murmurs as he stares down at me from his great height. His smile broadens as he leans down and whispers in my ear. “You do not need to allow yourself to feel for me. You already do.”
I stiffen as he presses his cheek against the side of my face. I wish to lean into his touch, to accept his embrace, yet I am terrified.
What do I know of love? Of real love?
My father used me to further his fortune. My mother did nothing to stop him. Vladimir has been nothing short of atrocious. How am I to know if what I feel truly is love or a mere infatuation?
“I can see it in your eyes,” he whispers into my ear. I tremble in his grasp.
“See what?” I breathe out as he nudges the hair back from my neck and presses his lips to the side of my throat. I clench my fists tightly against my sides, desperate not to reveal my desire.
“You want me.” I bite my lower lip as he smiles against my neck. “I can smell it.”
Blast his sense of smell! I feel weak in the knees as his hands lace about my waist, molding our bodies together as if we were one. His hands are strong against my back, kneading through the sodden folds of my blanket. As I roll my head back to allow him access to the base of my neck, I vaguely realize how easily it would be to bare myself to him.
His fingers dig deep into my flesh as he presses me back against a spruce tree. We disappear among its drooping branches, sealing out the world and all of its cares. The sun is lost behind clouds that seek to cloak the castle grounds in coming darkness. I can feel the change in the wind as I press against the bark of the tree and lift my eyes to the sky, feeling as turbulent as the tempest building above.
My heart thrums with maddening intensity as Fane’s hands roam the breadth of my waist, tugging me close, then pushing me back with measured control, almost as if he comes to his senses and then refuses to acknowledge them all over again.
I can feel the battle waging within him. It is evident in the strength of his hands and the press of his body. He wants me. His scent envelops me with turbulent intensity. A low growl rises in his throat as he nips at my neck, nearly tumbling me into a careless abandon.
I dig my nails deep into the flesh of the tree as I attempt to resist, yet as Fane’s lips trace a burning trail toward my mouth, I find I no longer care.
“May I?” he whispers hoarsely.
With a growl that surprises both of us, I yank him about and shove him against the tree in answer. Chunks of bark jar loose and fall about our feet as I wrap my arms around his neck and rise up to meet his lips. Adela was wrong. There is nothing sweet or romantic about a first kiss.
Raw passion makes my mind hazy with desire as I grip Fane, needing to feel every part of him against me. I claw at his back as I crush against his lips until my own are bruised and swollen. I plunge my hands into his hair as he wraps his arms about my waist and lifts me so my feet are nearly a foot off the ground.
If only I had known a kiss could be like this.
Fane slowly lowers me to the ground, severing our connection. My chest heaves as I step back, fighting to regain my composure. My fingers tremble as I press them to my lips, clutching my blanket with my free hand. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” I delight in seeing how out of breath and disheveled he is. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright and wide as he stares back at me. The top buttons of his shirt have come undone, and I spy a hint of muscle and instantly ache to slip my hand within to explore.
I stumble backward several steps and out into the rising winds, needing the coming deluge to quench the fires burning deep within my belly. “For giving me something to hold on to.”
Fane calls out as I turn and sprint away. I slide on the grass as the rains overhead unleash, threatening to upend me on several occasions. My blanket hangs heavy and thick between my legs as I flee, though I do not turn back. I cannot.
If I do not leave now, I may commit an act that I will forever regret… like confessing my inclination toward him.
Love. At least be willing to be honest with yourself, I scold as I flee over the hills and back toward the castle. It looms like a monster rising from an eerie fog from upon the hilltop. I have no right to feel this way, yet, no matter how hard I have tried, I cannot deny the truth. I have fallen in love with Fane Dalca.
THIRTY-ONE