“Are you sure that’s where he’ll have taken her?” asked Nikolai. “The Glass Tower is not far. He may have gone there.”
“Doubtful,” interjected Friedrich. “They’ve been amassing their army at his Dragon’s Eye. He’ll have returned to Izeling, where his forces are largest. My uncle is arrogant, but he’s also smart enough to know that the army set up in Silvane Forest could overrun the forces at the Glass Tower, even at our diminished state.”
“Katya, you’ll follow us with the Bloodguard. Send word to Lord Rathbone.”
“Yes, Captain.” She spoke like the perfect soldier, but her eyes shone with distress.
Anxiety riding him, Mikhail swept toward the door, stopping in front of Friedrich. “Your Grace, I’ll be parting ways with you here.”
Mikhail had worked as the duke’s personal bodyguard for months since Friedrich had released his Legionnaires of their duties, knowing there were spies for King Dominik within their ranks. Mikhail had continued to serve when they left Winter Hill, escorting and protecting Friedrich, Brennalyn, and their children in Silvane Forest. Now was the time he needed to sever that formal arrangement. He was moving of his own accord from here on out with one and only one objective.
Save Mina.
“Of course, Captain. We’ll follow Dmitri to Silvane Forest.” He clapped a hand to Mikhail’s upper arm in farewell, a look of fierce determination written in the duke’s eyes. “I’ll see you in Izeling.”
He swept from the tent out into the cold, where the winds had died away, a shimmer of moonlight peeking from behind wisps of cloud. His Elite stood in a single, silent line outside the tent, armed and ready, black hoods up shadowing their eyes, though he felt their keen watchfulness. Their sharp alertness. No movement but their cloaks billowing around their legs. All of these men were at the blood rite ceremony in Silvane where they dedicated their allegiance to Mina. Electric energy sizzled in the air, rippling between them. A vibration only an otherworld creature could feel, beckoning like a call from the hartstone herself. Or from hell.
A growl rumbled from the depths of his gut, the need for blood and crushing bones singing through his limbs, the beast within yearning for wrath and death.
“The butcher king used our guardsman, our blood brother Gavril, to betray us.” The timbre rumbled more growl than words. “And he took…our queen.” The eyes of his Elite glowed with blue fire and fury beneath their hoods. “Now let’s go fucking kill him and bring her back.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dominik slung Mina on the bed, his bed, a behemoth piece of furniture with tree-trunk-thick posts and laden with red silk curtains. His bedchamber was dark and opulent, dripping with black satin, red brocade, and crystal chandeliers. Even so, gray morning light peeked through the heavy folds of draperies. They’d traveled at vampire speed without resting at all. The trip to Izeling Tower should’ve taken longer, but Dominik was far stronger and faster than she’d realized.
He towered above her, hands on both hips, the firelight casting his silhouette in shadow. She could see nothing but his flaring eyes and gleaming smile, canines still sharp. She shivered. They’d hurt puncturing into her neck. Not like Mikhail, who eased into her slowly. Dominik bit with brutal force, seeming to enjoy her pain.
“Where’s the little girl, Izzy, you kidnapped?”
“Get cleaned up, little dove. Mother requests your presence.”
“Tell me what you’ve done with her.”
“Get cleaned up, and I’ll show you,” he said with a grin, watching and waiting.
Three maids hurried into the room, carrying buckets of steaming water into the connecting chamber, keeping their heads bowed. She heard the rush of water as it poured into the tub.
Her eyes darted back to him. She lifted her chin. “I’m not bathing in front of you.”
He laughed, the hard sound twisting her insides into a nest of snakes. “No?” He bent over, bracketing his hands on either side of her hips, his massive frame threatening. “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.”
Her breathing accelerated, fearing whatever command he was about to give her. Because she knew she would obey, even as she screamed on the inside. She’d heard of people dying from defying Dominik’s commands while under the thrall of his elixir. She had to survive.
His gaze roamed down her neck to her heaving chest then back up, locking his malevolent eyes to hers. “If I tell you to lean back and spread your legs, you’ll do it.”
She shook her head, tears pricking.
He only smiled wider. “If I tell you to get on your knees and suck my cock, you’ll do that, too.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to even out her breathing, trying to keep the welling panic at bay.
“Open your eyes, little dove.”
They popped open without her even thinking it, her body already obeying his will.
“No, Your Majesty,” she said with a plea in her eyes, using his title as some way to appeal to his ego. “I am the Queen of Arkadia. You can’t—”
His hand clamped under her jaw, arresting her speech.
“Yes. I heard about your ascension to the throne. Did you think it would help you and your traitorous friends who are allied to the Black Lily?”
She could say nothing with his giant paw holding her jaw in place. His fingers loosened, and he slid his hand down her throat, his fingers nearly encapsulating it.
“Who did you spread your legs for, Vilhelmina?” Malice laced his voice now, sending a tremble of dread through her frame.
“Mikhail Romanov, Captain of the Bloodguard.”
His countenance darkened to a murderous glare. “The one who took you from Briar Rose?”
“Yes.”
“And killed my fucking men,” he growled, fingers tightening.
“Yes,” she rasped, feeling some kind of triumph in telling him who he was and what he’d done.
“You’d best forget him. You’ll be my queen soon enough.” He grinned, voice dropping even deeper. “You’ll be my woman after tonight.” He roughly let her go and stood, bellowing to the three maids standing at the entrance. “Scrub her good.” He started for the door, boots clomping on the slate floor. “And get the stink of that bloody vampire off her.”
…
Though the snowstorm had cleared, it had muddled the trail. Mikhail paused as the craggy silhouette of the Novak foothills rose up in the night. He halted their party with a hand in the air, having caught a whiff on the wind. Not of Mina, but of another familiar scent.
“Captain!” yelled Yuri, off to the right, kneeling in the shadow of a cliff face.
Speeding to his side, his gut clenched at the sight. Gavril on his back, one leg folded backward, a pool of blood seeped into the snow beneath his head. The near-full moon shining through vaporous clouds illuminated his deathly pallor. Yuri had a finger to his pulse, listening.