“Aramei…I’m here.”
The room begins to shrink into a vortex as though something is sucking it all into one tiny point. But we don’t move; not even my hair blows though it feels like it should be whipping about my face and wrapping around the back of my head threatening to take me into the point as well. My breath catches sharply and I shut my eyes before the motion of the room being stretched into oblivion makes me sick to my stomach. I feel Aramei’s hands tighten around my own and this small gesture of understanding motivates me.
And before I have a chance to catch my breath again, my eyes are forced open and my body is thrust into a strange series of events unlike any of my past visits into Aramei’s mind. It takes me a moment to wrap my head around what is happening and why it’s happening so fast; why I’m not standing immobile in a room somewhere in 1762, picking up where we left off last.
Time is skipping. I see that now. Aramei’s life is moving through the ages in gaps rather than a seamless, perfect sequence.
And it takes my breath away.
Golubac Fortress – Serbia – Summer 1777
Lord General Vukašin Prvovencani takes Aramei as his wife in a traditional Black Beast ceremony. The two of them, werewolf and human, know love like no other. Aramei, despite being surrounded by death and danger and darkness, can never imagine herself anywhere else. She is Trajan’s life and he is hers.
But others find their union blasphemous and have been plotting against the Sovereign since the day it was made public that he had taken a human girl as is mate. Vengeful eyes watch Aramei from everywhere.
She will never be safe.
Golubac Fortress – Serbia – Spring 1780
Viktor’s rogue army has grown to immeasurable proportions. Every town along the Danube has been inundated by the infection. And the danger is soon to infiltrate the fortress where Aramei is kept safe.
“He cannot be destroyed!” Trajan roars among the meeting with the Elders and his Right Hand, Nataša. Nataša is the only one here who knows the truth about Aramei’s Blood Bond to Viktor.
“It is not a proposal,” Trajan goes on, standing tall and dictatorially at the head of the enormous U-shaped table. “I want him alive.”
The Elder, Kruag, places his rugged hands upon the stone table; the sleeves of his dark robe drapes just above his scarred knuckles.
“Why do you protect Viktor? Why must he be left alive?”
Trajan’s iron hand comes down upon the stone table, splitting it in half. Pieces of rock crumble at his feet, leaving a two-foot gap between the halves of the table. All of the Elders straighten their backs and raise their chins a few inches—but never higher than Trajan’s—to show absolute respect.
“If Viktor dies,” Trajan says in a searing, growling whisper, “you all die.”
Golubac Fortress – Serbia – Summer 1780
The fortress is overrun. Trajan suspects that someone from the inside has let them in; that troops were ordered away from key gates just before dawn.
The plotting against Trajan and his blasphemy has finally begun to unfold.
“Stay with her!” Trajan orders Nataša. “Once you get her outside the forest, make sure no one finds you! GO! NOW!”
Nataša grabs Aramei.
“Milord!” Aramei cries, reaching out for him in Nataša’s grasp. Tears barrel from her eyes. “My love! Please! You cannot stay behind! Please, come with me!” She screams so stridently that her voice becomes hoarse.
Trajan rushes over to her, ripping her from Nataša’s hands. Pain and desperation is seared into his features. His dark, rugged facial hair streaked with blood from the Black Beast he killed just moments ago, the one that tried to get into the room at Aramei. He kisses her passionately, savagely, holding her head in both of his enormous hands. “I will find you! I will come for you!”
And Nataša rips Aramei from Trajan’s arms and carries her down the top tower and into the bowels of the fortress by means of secret passages.
Bulgaria - Western Stara Planina – Winter 1782
The conspirators have all finally been captured. Six weeks after the attack on the fortress and the battle was won, Trajan ordered the seizure of any and all who were behind the plot to dethrone him and kill Aramei. If they only knew that simply to kill Viktor, which they wanted in the beginning, would have also achieved their great plot against Trajan and Aramei as well.
Now they sit in prison; nine different prisons spread throughout Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania and even as far south as Greece. Nine of the conspirators were Elders; each of them had served under Trajan’s father.
“Execute them all,” Trajan orders Nataša as she stands before his throne. “It is your commission to carry this out.”
“Yes, Milord.” She bows very low and holds it there for several symbolic seconds. Her belly is pregnant with her and Trajan’s second child.
“And see to it that their heads are sent back here.”
Bulgaria - Western Stara Planina – Fall 1792
It has been thirty years since the day Viktor bonded Aramei to his blood. But she hasn’t aged a day. Trajan’s blood has kept her alive and youthful and strong for so long. The empire of the Black Beasts is more powerful than it has ever been with Trajan at its head. But it is also more tumultuous and uncertain than ever in its history. Trajan rules with an iron fist. He takes no prisoners anymore, and passes execution without a trial no matter the severity of their crimes.
Fear is what makes this empire impenetrable. Fear is what gives birth to conspirators. But Trajan is becoming delusional in his reign. Blinded by his life with Aramei, Trajan is beginning to misjudge everything else around him.
All that he sees is her.
She is everything to him.
“Why can I not bare your children?”
Aramei sits in Trajan’s lap upon his throne, cradled against his chest.
“You will one day, my love.”
“But it has been so long, Milord.” She lifts her head and takes his bearded chin into her fingers and brushes her soft lips against his rugged ones. “It is all that I want: to give you a child. If I can conceive, I can feel whole.”
Trajan’s head moves slowly to look down into her eyes. He moves her fingers from his face with the side of his hand.
“You do not feel whole?”
Aramei lowers her eyes, understanding the true nature of his question.
He lifts her chin in his fingers, gently forcing her gaze. “Never be ashamed to speak your mind to me, Aramei. You are the only soul in this world who can defy me and not die for it—now tell me; do you not feel whole?”
Her eyes flutter gracefully underneath her lashes, giving her that natural coy, childlike appearance she is known for.
“No woman is ever whole without bearing a child,” she says softly. “It is nothing more than what nature asks of me.”
Trajan can’t look at her now. I see it in his eyes, the reason for that impenetrable, brooding stare into nothingness. He can’t bring himself to tell her that because of the Blood Bond, she is barren. The only life her body can sustain is her own and not even blood as powerful as the Sovereign’s is strong enough to allow her body to carry another life inside of it.
He almost smiles, but only allows her to see it in his eyes as he looks back down at her eager face.
“You will bear my child one day,” he says, kissing her forehead. “It is only but a matter of time. Just be patient.”
Aramei smiles and it lights up her face.
“Then you will never deny me?” she says, part thoughtful, part seductively playful. “You give your word that whenever I am ready and feel that I can conceive that you will come home from any war you’re fighting, to be with me?”
Trajan’s lips smile now as he gazes upon her. He traces his finger along the length of her jaw and says, “I give you my word.”
Serbian Carpathians – Central Serbia – Summer 1810
Forty-eight years have passed. Many wars have been fou
ght and Trajan’s offspring with his mates have died fighting them. And as promised, even when Trajan was amid these wars, he came home to Aramei the moment he received word that she needed him. Aramei never really knew where Trajan was most of the time. In these years, he had begun to enslave human girls to care for Aramei in his stead. But this decision did not mean that his love for her began to falter. Trajan knew that in order to protect Aramei, he would have to take many matters of war and strife into his own hands. This was the only reason he ultimately chose to leave her in the care of others.
Viktor Vargas was fulfilling his life’s goal to make Trajan’s life a living hell. Viktor was becoming brazen and rash, sending his rogues ahead of him right into open war when he knew they were clearly outnumbered.
Viktor wanted death so that he could finally get the ultimate revenge on Trajan.
Trajan couldn’t let this happen. His orders to protect Viktor had become futile because Viktor sought death. He couldn’t take his own life, however, because his bond to Aramei forbade him to. To kill himself would be to kill her and no two souls bonded by blood can will themselves to harm the other. Not even a rogue.
Everything he did, every choice that Trajan made was for Aramei.
“And what is your name?” Trajan says to the beautiful red-haired girl on the floor beneath his throne. Her arms are stretched out on the floor above her head; her back arched over, touching her forehead to the stone.
She lifts her face.
“I am Evangeline, Milord. I am your servant.”
Trajan inhales deeply of the air and looks down at Evangeline warily. “You are not human.”
“No, Milord.”
Trajan contemplates the moment. About a dozen eyes are watching them. Aramei sits quietly in her throne next to his—angelic white next to authoritarian darkness.
“I like her, my love,” Aramei says. “She has a kind face.”
Trajan looks over. “A kind face does not mean treachery cannot live beneath it.” He lifts his leather-covered wrist from the arm of the stone chair and waves two fingers in a whimsical circle.
“Yes, but I want her.”
Trajan, who could never deny any of Aramei’s wishes, looks back at Evangeline.
“Very well,” he says, nodding. “You will be my love’s chief servant.”
Nataša’s narrow eyes widen with disbelief as she gazes across the room at him. She steps forward wearing her battle armor with a sword of pure silver attached to her hip. She grips the hilt of the sword and bows.
“Make I speak freely?”
Trajan nods.
Nataša glances at Evangeline next to her.
“Why trust this one so easily simply because Milady bids it so?”
Evangeline raises her pale-colored arm and her hand slips from underneath the long sleeve of her black dress. For a moment, Nataša’s chin rears back and she goes to put up her hand to knock her away, but then she stops. She appears confused.
Evangeline places her hand on Nataša’s shoulder.
“I will never harm her,” she says with words as soft as powder. “I am here to serve and protect her. Nothing more.”
Nataša nods reluctantly, as if her mind is fighting with the muscles in her neck. She steps away from Eva and bows to Trajan once more before moving back to stand in her position near the tall, stone pillar.
Serbian Carpathians – Central Serbia – Summer 1812
Fifty years into the Blood Bond and today, Trajan’s world will be turned on its head.
Eva bursts through the double-doors of the throne room. “She is on the ledge, Milord! She walks along the ledge of the wall!” Her voice is vociferous, tearing through the vast room and echoing off every stone wall.
Trajan jumps from his throne, his long leather coat falling about his tall form.
“Come, Milord!”
Eva grabs the fabric of her sheer black gown to keep it from dragging the floor behind her and she rips away in the direction she came without looking back.
When Trajan makes it outside the walls of the castle, he sees Aramei’s soft light-colored hair blowing briskly in the high breeze. The wall she walks along was made on the edge of the mountain, which overlooks the river below nearly one thousand feet.
Stunned by what he’s seeing, Trajan hesitates before dashing across the stones and grabbing her just before she tumbles over the edge.
“Aramei, my love! What were you doing?” Trajan’s face is misshapen by terror. He holds her out in front of him by her petit shoulders, shaking her as if she were an unruly child. But then he gathers her close, practically crushing her weight against his; her head cradled in the palm of his hand. “Are you unhappy? Will you never feel whole?” He squeezes her.
He pulls away and looks upon her, searching her face for answers.
She just looks at him, cocking her head to one side curiously. “Milord, why do you say these things?” She smiles as if she believes he’s just being dramatic. Then her gaze strays beyond him and she looks bewildered.
“How did I get out here?”
Trajan’s eyes lock with Eva’s. He looks every bit terrified.
~~~
It was the beginning of Trajan’s madness and the end of Aramei’s life.
From that year on, Aramei only grew worse. The drinking of Trajan’s blood in order to sustain her consumed them. Over time, it became every day, sometimes twice a day, but no matter how much or how often she drank, it would never make her better for long and nothing could reverse the consequences of her bond. Within six years, she did not know herself anymore, not even briefly. The only thing the blood would do was keep her body alive, but her mind was too far gone to bring it back. And the only thing that her mind seemed to remember as though that one small part of her life had been somehow trapped in the depths of her subconscious was her need to bear him a child. She could call him by his name in their native tongue, but it had only been to call him to her when she felt her body could conceive.
Throughout the remaining two hundred years of Aramei’s immortal life, Trajan never allowed himself to believe that when she spoke his name it was only for this purpose and that she had forgotten him.
He knew it to be true, but he would die before he ever admitted it to himself.
~~~
Time and Space is pushing me through it again. But this time it’s different. I see everything of the rest of Aramei’s life all the way up to the day I saw her myself for the first time in the cave, but it all flashes by so quickly. I’m falling fast and hard into some unknown place because I know that it’s not back in the cabin. I try to scream out a name, any name, but when my mouth opens I have no voice. It feels like my limbs are detached from my body, that I’m just a particle of dust being hurled through the ether. Everything is so loud, yet at the same time, I hear nothing. I see faces and their lips moving, but like my own, nothing comes from them.
And then my body is plunged into infinite darkness.
Is this Hell? Have I died and gone to Hell?
The air echoes all around me violently as if I’m falling through a black hole. I try to see upward into the heavens, to find the top of the tunnel, but I’m too far inside of it.
And then a sort of peace and calm overcomes me.
I shut my eyes and let my head fall back to feel the wind on my face. I’m ready to accept death because it’s so lulling, so beautiful.
Everything stops.
I open my eyes carefully, expecting to see…I don’t know.
And as my eyes creep open the rest of the way and my surroundings becomes clearer, I see that I am in no place I have ever imagined before.
Chapter 27
Somewhere Unknown – Present Day?
I LOOK DOWN AT my hands, confused by how I can even see them; I’ve never been able to actually see myself in Aramei’s mind before. My hands are filthy and bruised and fouled by tiny cuts. I’m clad in a tattered green dress which covers my arms to my wrists and my legs to my ankles and I see
that my feet are bare. My hair is loose and falls messily about my face, which hurts tremendously just under my eye. I reach up to touch the bone and wince.
There is small window out ahead; just a hole in the rock with no glass or shutters or anything that might make it look modern or familiar.
Slowly, I walk towards the window and the torch blazing high on the stone wall reveals more of the space. Everything is made of stone: the walls, the floor, the twisting, spiraling steps that descend down into cold darkness behind me and even the scaling roof that towers above.
There’s something foul on the air. I can only describe it as the smell of death because I’ve never smelled something so horrible and death first comes to mind.
I stop at the window and cautiously lean forward to peer outside, afraid of what I might see. My breath hitches in my lungs when I see the charred landscape which stretches farther than I can see in every direction. I must be more than one thousand feet over the land. I can see a giant river snaking through the black hills far off in the distance, and down below, nestled amid the rolling black hills I spot tiny dots of orange firelight as though burning inside small cottages.
This isn’t right. Nothing about this place feels like a part of anyone’s past. It doesn’t seem to me like any real place that ever could have existed. It doesn’t appear real, yet it feels absolutely real as I stand here as a part of it.
I walk backwards away from the view with my hands pressed against my chest, my head shaking side to side as if continuously telling myself “No” over and over again. No, this is a dream; this can’t be real….