She shook her head once and her bindings fell off like paper. She stood up, her eyes burning like black coals and faced the woman who no longer looked triumphant. She looked very, very afraid. Victoria cocked her head to one side, like a cat studying a mouse, and watched as the woman calculated the odds of getting away. She was so easy to read, this little exiled witch, Victoria's blood thought patronizingly. But her magic had been so delicious, so much of the forbidden in there that it had been intoxicating.
The witch moved and tried to hurl a magic blast. Victoria deflected it lazily without even moving, and she watched the witch's eyes widen as a sudden cold understanding filled them, and she dropped prostrate to the cold ground.
"Please—"
Victoria's demon blood trilled, ravenous and inhuman. And while her smallest self screamed defiantly within her head, her blood rushed forward and claimed its prey. As the witch died, the taste of her death was heady like brandy burning through Victoria's body. Her blood sang victoriously. Despicably.
Victoria wanted to rip her skin apart and drain the poisoned magic out of her, its tainted evil fueling the darkest nature of the blood magic. She sank to her knees, delirious with sinful pleasure and sick with disgust at her own weakness, and clawed at her face and her stomach. Even as her blood healed the wounds of its own volition with the magic it had mercilessly stolen, she continued to tear at herself as if it assuaged the terrible guilt and self-hatred boiling inside of her.
She remained there until she felt familiar arms enclosing her in their tender warmth, Christian's voice against her hair, his lips on her temple, even as she struggled viciously against him.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed. "Don't touch me ... don't touch me ..."
CHRISTIAN REMAINED UNYIELDING, whispering against her hair until finally, inexorably she calmed, her body shuddering as she clung to him. He could feel the tightening of his jaw in violent response to the blood that had soaked through her clothing but he ignored it, stifling the urge viciously. The sound of her scream and the scent of her blood had all but done him in as he had raced to the top of the mountain.
When he had felt her slipping away earlier, Christian had almost lost it, especially as he hadn't been able to contact her right after their brief mental exchange. Holding her in his arms, her wild unhinged strength had been nearly impossible to contain, but he had held on.
Christian stood, taking her with him as if she weighed no more than a feather. With his free foot, he kicked fresh snow over the blood-spattered earth, knowing from the sounds lower down the mountains that the rescue crews he had seen would be heading their way. As he turned, Christian registered movement in the trees off to the left and his eyes locked with a pair of familiar icy blue eyes. Lena. She didn't move, just stood watching him and the gentle way he sheltered Victoria in his arms.
"Tell your master that if he comes after her again, he'll face me," he hissed in her direction.
Christian wondered how long she had been standing there, and whether the pile of ash-covered dark clothing lying on the ground was the remains of her witch friend. He glared at her ruthlessly, his lips drawn in a hard tight line, and turned away. He was gone in a second.
Christian held Victoria close against him as the limousine sped down I-95 to his house. While she slept, he telephoned Enhard.
"Enhard, it's Christian. The witch is dead."
"Did you do it?"
"No." He didn't elaborate.
"Good, that will help with your brother." Enhard paused. "Before you go, I spoke to one of the high priestess delegates after you left about Le Sang Noir. They call it the Cruentus Curse. What I learned may surprise you. She told me that its power can only be freely given, which means it can't be taken by force, nor can the witch who controls it be killed for it as the power will die with her. It's passed on to direct descendants and even then, it's sporadic. This thing goes back centuries, Christian, it goes much, much farther than we ever thought."
Enhard's revelations floored Christian. There was no way Lucian could ever possess its power, Victoria would never ever give it to him freely ... unless he had something planned to force her to do so. The thought scared the hell out of him because he was familiar with Lucian's ruthless tactics. He would have to protect her at all costs. He stroked her cheek and felt her stir beneath his fingers.
Victoria's eyes opened and Christian's worried face swam into focus. Her body ached and she felt like throwing up. She could feel the memory of the witch's magic infecting her system like a virus. She didn't deserve to be touched. She was a monster, a hideous soul-sucking monster! Christian's arms tightened around her.
"Kiss me," she whispered, shamelessly taking the small comfort he offered. "Make me forget ... please."