by Greg Cox
Lucian looked around anxiously. He had come here for a reason, yet there was always the possibility that, despite his stealth, his plans had been discovered and vengeful enemies waited to catch him in the act. What if Viktor or his Death Dealers were lurking in the shadows? Or a stray werewolf had chosen to make the tower his lair?
He heard something brush softly across the floor behind him. Spinning around, he reached again for the knife at his belt. A silent figure emerged from an embrasure. His eyes widened as she stepped into the moonlight.
“Blacksmith,” Sonja said.
The beautiful immortal had changed out of her armor into a shimmering gown of scarlet samite. A crescent-shaped pendant, which she had worn since childhood, rested upon the ivory slopes of her bosom. Moonbeams accented her regal cheekbones and elegant features. Her white skin gleamed like fine china. Lustrous dark brown hair framed a face worthy of some pagan goddess. Chestnut eyes gazed boldly into his. Her voice was deep and husky.
“Milady,” Lucian replied. All thought of hidden ruses and ambushes fled his mind. He could see only the highborn vampire before him. His pulse quickened.
“This is madness,” she declared.
“Yes.”
Unable to hold back any longer, he crossed the floor in an instant. He crushed her against him in a passionate embrace. Their mouths met hungrily, her ardor fully the equal of his own. His senses swam as he lost himself in the unimaginable rapture of her kiss. The intoxicating scent of her lavender perfume went straight to his head. Honey and coriander sweetened her breath. He caressed the graceful contours of her back through the thin fabric. Her mere presence, wrapped tightly in his arms, affected him as powerfully as the full moon, unleashing emotions and impulses beyond his control. His manhood instantly grew as hard as tempered steel. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling his head ever closer.
Sonja, he thought. My love.
His eager fingers fumbled with the solitary strap over her shoulder, then impatiently tore it apart. Succumbing to gravity the loose gown slithered to the floor with agonizing slowness, revealing that she wore nothing underneath but her own flawless white skin. Only the golden pendent about her neck adorned the naked splendor of her body. Her breasts were full and inviting. Blood-red nipples aimed like spear points at his heart. Smooth legs parted beneath his touch.
Lucian wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a treasure.
Tanis prowled the battlements in search of Sonja. A thorough inspection of her bedchamber, although mildly stimulating, had yielded no hint as to her present whereabouts. He had scoured the castle from the scullery to the belfry, yet found no sign of her. Now the dawn was nigh and he was no closer to carrying out Viktor’s command to locate his missing daughter. Tanis did not relish the idea of reporting his failure back to the short-tempered Elder.
Irresponsible bitch! he cursed Sonja spitefully. How dare she put him in such an untenable position? I have better things to do with my immortality than play nursemaid to a spoiled brat less than half my age!
He glanced nervously to the east, where the horizon was already starting to lighten ominously. The sun would be rising soon and he was eager to retire to his own modest chambers, where he had arranged an assignation with a pair of bawdy scullery maids, only lately inducted into the coven. The sybaritic scribe preferred to double his private pleasures whenever possible, and his mouth watered at the prospect of sampling both trollops simultaneously. He sorely resented being kept from his frolics by this burdensome chore.
Yet more one reason, aside from her haughty attitude toward him, for him to bear the Lady Sonja considerable ill will. She would do better to curry the favor of those who might assist her in the future. He knew he was not the only member of the coven who looked askance at her impolitic behavior, which might come back to haunt her down the road. After all, even an Elder could suffer reversals of fortune on occasion, as Marcus had learned when Viktor usurped control of the Death Dealers back during the final battle against William. Sonja’s exalted bloodline could only protect her so far….
A bell tolled from atop the keep, warning of the dawn, leaving the vexed scribe at his wit’s end. Restlessly pacing the palisade, he found himself running out of options. He had tried everything he could think to track down his elusive quarry, but to no avail. Sonja’s lady-in-waiting, a lissome blond vampiress named Luka, had maintained total ignorance of her mistress’ whereabouts, while none of the castle’s other servants and retainers had reported seeing her anytime in the last few hours. He had even checked the stables, where he had been relieved to discover Sonja’s favorite courser, Hecate, sleeping safely in its stall. At least the reckless woman was not out riding again. She had to be somewhere within the castle. Didn’t she?
Their lovemaking was wild and abandoned. Sonja’s nails raked deep furrows down his naked back as they rutted furiously against the quaking wall of the tower. Her limber legs were wrapped tightly about his waist while he supported her succulent rump with both hands. Her bare breasts pressed insistently against his hairy chest. The golden pendant bounced between them. His own filthy garments lay in a heap upon the floor alongside the discarded gown, so that he wore only the slave collar around his throat. Delicate fangs teased his neck, never quite breaking the skin. Sweat glistened on their colliding bodies. Wordless groans and growls punctuated every feverish thrust.
Lucian arched his back in both agony and ecstasy as her claws drew blood. He rammed his engorged member into her, slamming her backward into the wall so hard that dust rained down on them from the ceiling. Sonja gasped out loud and her eyes glowed like sapphires. Her lips claimed his in a fierce kiss that literally took his breath away. He tasted blood upon his lips.
Matching his lycan strength with her own preternatural stamina, she pushed off from the wall and shoved him down onto the floor of the turret, where their strewn clothing cushioned their conjoined bodies. Their busy hands and mouths explored each other without reservation. Sonja’s alabaster skin felt as cold and refreshing as a mountain stream, while Lucian’s own flesh was as hot as his forge. He plunged into her like a bar of red-hot iron thrust into cooling brine. His eyes flashed cobalt blue. Even with the collar still in place around his neck, he had never felt so free, so wild, so like a wolf.
He knew that what they were doing was forbidden. That Viktor would surely have him flayed alive or worse if he knew. But Lucian didn’t care. All that mattered at this moment was making love to Sonja with every fiber of his being—until they collapsed, spent and exhausted, into each other’s arms.
Chapter Five
Sonja nestled in Lucian’s embrace upon the floor of the turret. Her weary head rested upon his shoulder while her bare arm and leg were draped over his supine form. His sinewy body felt as warm and comforting as a blazing hearth compared to her cool undead flesh. Her fingers toyed with the wiry hairs upon his chest. Both exhausted and sated by their vigorous love-making, she was content to snuggle against him for what little time remained to them. Part of her still couldn’t believe that this was really happening, that she had actually taken a lycan as a lover, but right now, at this very moment, there was nowhere else she would rather be than wrapped securely in his strong arms. She wished they could stay like this forever.
This must be what the mortals imagine heaven to be like.
Their clandestine affair had caught them both by surprise. Furtive looks exchanged in the castle corridors, as they “accidentally” brushed against each other in passing, had led to stolen moments in the smithy, and whispered confessions of mutual ardor. It was she who had first divulged the true depths of her feelings, but not until Lucian trusted her with the secret route to the deserted watchtower had they dared to consummate the forbidden passion between them. Fearing exposure, she had told no one of their trysts, not even Luka, her faithful lady-in-waiting.
If my father knew of this!
“So,” he murmured softly into her ear, “did I make myself useful, milady?”
&
nbsp; “Indeed.” Her nude body quivered at the memory of their strenuous exertions. Lifting her head, she contemplated her lover thoughtfully. The dashing blacksmith was like no man she had ever known, and a marked improvement over the arrogant aristocrats who courted her relentlessly. Loving, courageous, and intelligent, Lucian was twice the man of any vampire in her father’s court. She found it hard to accept that he was truly a lycan. “Is it true what you told my father, that you feel nothing when you kill them?”
He realized she was referring to the werewolf he had slain earlier tonight. “They are just animals,” he said bluntly. “Incapable of thought or feeling. Why should I care anything for them?”
Sonja nodded, accepting his answer. She did not question the sincerity of his response. There were no secrets between them. I always thought the same of werewolves, she mused, until I came to know you with all my heart….
Now she wasn’t so sure.
He rolled over onto his side so that he could look her in the eyes. A serious expression came over his face, which was only inches away from hers. His dark brown eyes looked more human than lycan.
“If I were to leave from here, would you come with me?”
She sat up in alarm. “Do not say that! Do not even think it.” She clutched his arm. “They would hunt you down like all the others. You would be marked for death!”
Lycan slaves had on occasion attempted to escape to freedom. A few had even managed to slip past the castle walls. But her father’s Death Dealers had always succeeded in tracking down the fugitives, most of whom had no idea how to cope in the wild on their own. Those captured alive were dragged back to castle in chains, then tortured to death in the courtyard as an example to any other lycans who might be contemplating going on the run. Sonja shuddered at the thought of Lucian facing such a dreadful fate.
I could not bear to see him suffer so!
To her dismay, he appeared undaunted by the danger. He fingered the moon shackle around his throat. “Not if I can remove this.”
But that’s impossible, she thought. The spiked collars were locked onto the slaves for life—to prevent them from transforming into monstrous werewolves. Why speak of things that cannot be?
He rifled through the strewn garments beneath them, retrieving a small woolen pouch from his discarded belt. He reached inside the pouch, then held out his hand. His fingers opened to reveal a small pewter key lying in his palm.
“I made it myself,” he explained. His eyes shone with pride and determination. “This will be my freedom.”
She stared at the key as if it were a venomous spider, poised to destroy their happiness forever. “Lucian,” she pleaded, desperate to dissuade him from this rash course. “Promise me you will not use it. Please!”
He frowned, clearly disappointed by her response. “Is that your answer, then? You will not come with me, so you want me to stay here for you?” He tugged bitterly on the moon shackle. “Like this? Like an animal?”
“Lucian!” She had never realized he felt this way. Perhaps I do not truly know him as well as I believed? She sympathized with his frustration, but was horrified by the drastic measures he seemed willing to take. No, she thought fearfully. Images of Lucian being flayed alive in the courtyard rushed before her mind’s eye. The risk is too great!
“Vampire and lycan,” he brooded darkly. He placed a hand against her cheek; his hot, callused palm felt rough compared to her own smooth white skin. He stared soulfully into her anguished chestnut eyes. “We are both the children of Corvinus. Yet my kind are slaves.”
He held the key up before her eyes. “I will use this one day. And I will leave this place.”
By the fates, he means it! There was no doubting the passionate intensity of his words, which struck her like a wooden stake through the heart. Her ivory complexion went paler still. A gasp that was almost a sob escaped her lips.
No good can come of this.
Her obvious distress was not lost on him. Anger gave way to tenderness on his handsome face. His voice softened and he reluctantly returned the key to its pouch before taking her into his arms once more. Sonja clung to him fiercely, as though she could keep him safely at her side for all eternity. Her nails dug deeply into his naked back. She inhaled deeply of his musky aroma. She never wanted to let him go.
“But I can never be without you,” he promised.
Nor I you, she thought.
Tanis reached the far end of the palisade, where the rough-hewn walkway merged with the rocky slope of the mountain. To the east, a frightening rosy glow was rising on the horizon. A warning bell once again foretold the dawn. Although he had not yet located Sonja, he would soon be forced to retreat to the safety of the keep’s impenetrable walls, and to take his chances by abandoning his futile quest. Perhaps Viktor had already retired for the night?
That would be fortunate indeed….
A wolf howled from the distant wilderness, eliciting a shudder from the faint-hearted scribe, who pulled his fur-lined robe tightly about his slight frame. A scholar, not a warrior, he preferred to read about werewolves in his dusty tomes, not to hear them baying only a few leagues away. He looked forward to the day when Viktor and his Death Dealers exterminated the wretched breed once and for all.
Save for our domesticated lycan slaves, of course.
Sighing, he turned away from the parapet and gazed out over the courtyard one last time. A shimmer of motion caught his eye and he leaned out over a guardrail to get a better look. Crafty blue eyes widened in surprise as he spotted Lucian emerging from his smithy accompanied by Sonja herself!
What the devil?
A heavy gray cloak was draped over Sonja’s rumpled scarlet gown. Her streaming walnut tresses were loose and disordered. She glanced about furtively as she stepped out from behind one of the crude hides enclosing the blacksmith’s forge. If Tanis didn’t know better, he would have sworn that she had just tumbled guiltily out of a lover’s bed.
But with a lycan? That was inconceivable….
Or was it?
Despite the imminent arrival of the sunrise, which Sonja could no more survive than any other vampire, she and Lucian lingered outside the smithy as though reluctant to part. His hand brushed her hip, a tiny gesture that might well have escaped the notice of anyone less observant than Tanis. They shared a long, poignant look before the lightening sky mercilessly drove them apart. They reached out to each other, their outstretched fingers grazing one final time before Sonja finally tore herself away from the imprudent blacksmith and scampered for the keep, leaving Lucian alone in the courtyard. Reaching the shelter of the portico, she glanced back over her shoulder in a manner that could only be described as longing. Welcoming shadows swallowed her up as she disappeared into the keep. A heavy oak door swung shut behind her.
Up on the rampart, Tanis could scarcely believe his eyes. The Elder’s daughter—and a lycan! Such a thing had never been heard of, and moreover was expressly forbidden by the Covenant on pain of death. Not even the most wanton vampire serving-wench would ever dream of sullying herself by consorting with an animal, yet Tanis could not deny the evidence of his own eyes. There could be no other explanation for the intimate drama he had just spied upon. A muscle tightened on the scribe’s cheek.
Who knew the Elder’s daughter was so… perverse?
Not until Sonja had completely vanished from sight did Lucian look away from the doorway. He glanced up at the palisade and Tanis hastily ducked behind a ballista to avoid being seen. For an instant, he feared that Lucian might spot him upon the ramparts, but then another wolfen howl captured the blacksmith’s attention instead. More voices joined the bestial chorus until it sounded like an entire pack was serenading the moon. Lucian listened intently, seemingly transfixed by the ghastly din, before shaking off its spell and retreating back into his smithy.
What do you hear in the wolf’s song? Tanis pondered. A reminder that, deep down inside, you’re still just an animal after all?
A beast that had app
arently claimed the affections of a noblewoman.
Interesting, Tanis thought. Overcoming his initial shock at so unnatural a pairing, the calculating scribe realized that he had come into possession of knowledge both valuable and highly dangerous. There was surely some way to turn Sonja’s scandalous secret to his advantage, but he would have to be careful. The untimely exposure of such an explosive revelation could have a cataclysmic effect upon the entire coven, with little guarantee of who might end up on top when the ashes settled. Innocent bystanders, such as himself, might well find themselves caught in the crossfire. I need to give this matter much serious thought.
Once he got safely indoors, that is.
He returned to the keep himself, by means of an inconspicuous side entrance, where he was dismayed to find Viktor waiting for him in the great hall. The Elder sat upon a regal throne at the far end of the chamber, while lesser gentlemen and their ladies lounged on richly upholstered chairs and divans. Elegant courtesans displayed their charms in filmy black gowns. A blazing fire roared in the hearth. Apparently the coven was making a late night of it, perhaps in anticipation of tomorrow’s delegation from the neighboring lands. Flutes of chilled steer’s blood clinked lightly; as the Covenant forbade preying upon their mortal serfs, the coven subsisted on the blood of cattle instead. A cunning potion, extracted from eels, kept their liquid refreshment from congealing. Light conversation and gossip echoed off the cold stone walls. Incense flavored the air. A lute played softly in the background.
Any hopes Tanis had of evading Viktor’s notice were swiftly crushed. He summoned the scribe to his side with a peremptory gesture. Viktor spoke in a low tone so that they would not be overheard by the rest of the coven.