In fact, he was so swept away by it that he’d nearly destroyed them both.
He’d wanted her with him, forever; he’d been consumed with the compulsion to change her and have her for eternity. It was an insane idea, and thankfully he regained control of himself before he pushed her into a place few ever came back from. Very few humans survived the change.
He’d been so consumed by her that he nearly ended her life. In all his many years, he’d never been so careless or so out of control with his thirst.
But even more potent than her blood were her words. Whispered words of love repeated as she embraced him. Words he’d never heard before but relished and he’d believed them. Just as he’d believed her vow never to leave him, and to stay with him always.
Lies, it had all been lies, and he was the fool who believed them.
Now, he almost wished he’d killed her; almost wished he’d never given her the opportunity to betray him like this. He fought the urge to smash his cane off the wall. He wanted to rip his brother limb from limb; wanted to shake her and make her tell him why she’d offered her blood to him, why she said him she loved him and then left him the very next morning.
The betrayal made him the angriest; the betrayal made him yearn to hunt them down and destroy them. And he could, he could find her so easily.
He could track her through her precious woods, seize her, drag her back here, and lock her away for the rest of her miserable life. He could make her pay dearly for her betrayal—make his brother pay. He could make both of their lives a living hell if he chose to. He could destroy and ruin them completely.
Arianna may not have realized his blood in her veins made it so he could find her whenever he chose, but his brother should have known better. Jericho should have known Braith would come after them. He would make Jericho pay for helping her and make her pay for her lies.
“The other blood slave?” he demanded as he turned back to the servant.
He could hear the man shifting nervously and feel the panic coming from him. “Is also gone, your majesty.”
Rage suffused him once more; he couldn’t stop himself from smashing his cane off the wall. The impact jarred through his hand, shattered the cane, and sent pieces of debris flying. He wasn’t sure if it was Keegan or the servant yelping in response. Braith stood for a moment, barely able to keep his fury under control.
“Get me a new cane,” he snarled.
When the servant scrambled away, his feet cluttered over the debris. Braith stood for a while, trying to regain control of himself and his wildly swinging emotions. It was a while before he felt calm enough to move again without ripping something to shreds. It took even longer before he could take a new cane from the servant without being worried he might kill the innocent man.
“We’ll go after them; we’ll make them pay.”
Braith turned at the sound of Caleb’s voice. It was funny that just yesterday Jericho had been his favorite. Now, he despised him even more than he ever could have disliked Caleb.
“There are already men gathering to hunt them,” Caleb said.
Braith could find her in a matter of hours, but he found himself remaining where he was. He didn’t want that traitorous bitch back in his life, didn’t ever want to see her again.
He preferred his world of blackness to the sight of her disloyal, hideous face. She wanted her freedom so badly she’d lied and manipulated for it; as far as he was concerned, she could have it. She could have her starvation and cold, her misery and dirt; she could have everything she craved.
He wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and wouldn’t stand in her way.
“Jericho has been labeled a traitor,” Caleb continued.
“He is,” Braith growled.
“There is a large bounty on his head; it shouldn’t be long before one of the starving masses turns him in. I am sure the other two slaves will be in his vicinity, and I’m also certain he will turn on them as swiftly as he turned on us when we find him.”
Braith wrapped both his hands around the head of his new cane. “If he is found, he will be brought to me, alive. All of them are to be brought to me.”
“Of course,” Caleb murmured in assent.
Braith closed his eyes as he tried not to think about the depth of Arianna’s betrayal. He wouldn’t hunt them down; he wouldn’t go into the woods after the two people he’d come to trust the most. But if they were captured and brought back here, he would be the one to make sure Jericho was destroyed, and he would be the one to hand Arianna over to Caleb.
Then, he would sit back and relish in the sounds of her screams as Caleb did what he did best.
Until then, he was going to gorge himself on as much blood as it took to help him forget this horrendous mess.
He moved toward Caleb, finally beginning to understand his brother’s cruelty and hatred as those emotions took root in his gut, spread through his chest, and buried him beneath their crushing weight.
He’d never experienced these emotions to this degree before, never knew that it was possible to do so until now. But he relished in the hatred and bloodlust consuming him; they were the only things that helped to bury his betrayal and hurt.
“Clean up this mess,” he barked at the servant.
Keegan padded after Braith, following him to the dungeons. The wolf had never been here; it had been years since Braith had been down here, mainly because he despised it.
Now, he found himself craving it, needing it, desiring it with a ferocity that left him shaken. When he threw the doors to the dungeons open, the scent of humans and dread assaulted him. These were the blood slaves of the royal family, at least until they were drained dry and discarded to make room for others.
He moved quickly through, stopping only briefly to pick out three women from behind the bars. He didn’t know what they looked like, but the scent of their blood was not as repulsive to him as some of the others.
“Have them cleaned and brought to me,” he commanded the guards.
He may not have Arianna now, but he would satisfy himself and attempt to ease some of his pulsating bloodlust.
It wasn’t lost on him that a skinny wisp of a girl managed to do in one month what his father had failed for over nine hundred years to accomplish. She had succeeded in turning him into a coldhearted, bloodthirsty monster.
The End
Turn the page to keep reading Renegade, book 2 in the Captive Series!
Renegade
The Captive Series, Book 2
Special thanks to my husband, best friend, and biggest supporter. My parents, for teaching me to never give up.
To my siblings, nieces and nephews who make life more interesting and fun.To my friends for all the laughter and character ideas, and Leslie Mitchell from G2 Freelance editing for all her hard work and encouragement.
Chapter One
Aria didn't have to look up to know Max had arrived. He'd joined her here, at the same time every day for the last month. Even if she wasn’t expecting him, she would have detected his presence by his subtle smell and quiet step.
He settled onto the ground beside her, remaining silent as he picked up a rock and leisurely skipped it across the lake. Aria handed him the fishing pole beside her; the hook was already baited and ready for him. He took it from her and cast it into the center of the lake.
Aria swung her feet back and forth, her toes skimming across the water. The cool water felt wonderful against her overheated skin. Using the back of her arm, she wiped away the sweat already beading on her forehead. They sat for a while together, wordlessly reeling in the fish they caught. They kept the good ones and tossed back the ones that were too small.
Aria had started retreating to this spot soon after her escape from being a blood slave and her subsequent return home. Max had found her here two days later. They rarely spoke, they didn't have to.
They had both been inside that place, both owned and used, and both forever marred by the vampires who had possessed them. Th
e monsters who had held them. Though, decidedly, Max's experience was far worse than hers.
She had been owned, led around by a leash and used, but the extent of her use was her fault. She'd willingly given the prince her blood, mistakenly thinking she was falling in love with the deceptive bastard, but that was before she learned he was engaged.
Though she hated the prince now, she couldn't deny the sharp stab of sorrow that pierced her at the thought of him marrying another woman. It brought tears to her eyes every time it crossed her mind, which was far more often than she cared to admit.
But, no matter how badly she'd been hurt, no matter how betrayed she felt, her experience wasn’t anywhere near as awful as Max's. Though they didn't talk about it, she knew what happened to blood slaves. They were used, abused, and discarded when their owners grew tired of them.
Max always wore long sleeves, but occasionally his shirt would ride up, and she would catch a glimpse of the marks and burns scarring his fair skin. She'd seen the haunted look filling his bright blue eyes when he didn't think anyone was looking.
She'd suffered abuse while within the palace, but it had been at the hands of a human servant and not the vampire prince. The prince broke her heart, but he never intentionally inflicted any bodily harm on her that she hadn't asked for. In fact, he had been unfailingly tender with her.
She hated to acknowledge it, but she knew if the prince hadn't taken so much of her blood on her last night in the palace, which left her incoherent, she would have given him far more than just her blood. She would have freely given him her body and her last piece of self-respect.
It was a fact she hated herself for and tried not to think about. Especially since the thought still left her oddly shaken and aching with a need that was left unfulfilled and always would be.
The prince may not have been physically abusive to her, but Max's owner had been just as cruel and brutal as they'd always heard vampires were to their slaves. Only one bite marred Aria's neck, and she’d yearned for it so badly that her whole being had begged for it.
A bite that nearly stripped her soul and left her a far different person than the one she'd been before he fed on her. A mark that was fading faster than she wanted it to, yet nowhere near as soon as she wished it would.
She didn't like losing the mark, it was her last connection to the prince. No matter how much she hated him, she couldn't deny he would always own a piece of her heart. But it could only be a small piece as he had succeeded in shattering the rest of it.
She hoped once the mark was gone she could forget about the prince. Maybe once it was gone, she could move on with her life and not hurt so much all the time. Perhaps she wouldn't ache constantly, the dreams would stop haunting her, and she could end just existing and actually start living again. She would like to take pleasure in the woods again, but since her return, she'd found little joy in the wilderness she'd once loved so dearly.
Max reeled in his line, deftly unhooked a decent sized bass, and added it to their growing catch. Aria pulled up her dark pants, baring her legs to her knees. She squirmed her way closer to the edge of the lake and dipped her legs up to her shins in the water. She would like to go swimming soon, wash her hair, and clean herself.
One of the few things she missed about the palace, besides the prince, was the blessedly hot showers and baths she'd taken. Diving in the lake wasn't the same cleansing experience, though she did it far more often now than before her capture. Being clean every day while in the palace had left her with the same desire now that she was home.
After about an hour, Max finally spoke. "You had another bad dream last night."
Aria sat silently; she didn't know how to tell him she didn't have nightmares like he did. She didn't relive violent beatings and torture. Her dreams were about the last night she had with the prince, the awe she felt, the joy and love suffusing her. His feeding on her was so breathtaking that she still missed the connection—something she would never admit.
It had been painful for Max when his owner drank from him, but for her, it was a moment of pure ecstasy that touched her profoundly. It was the loss of that joy, the loss of him, causing her to cry and moan and awaken at night. For her, the night was not about reliving torment like it was with Max, it was about reliving heartache.
She had never deluded herself into thinking anything between her and the prince could last. Eventually, the rest of the royal family, and his wife, would have seen to her death.
She had deluded herself into thinking he might care for her too. But that was before she learned the prince was already engaged to someone else. The thought still left her feeling furious and betrayed.
Max wrapped his hands lightly around hers, trying to steady them as they shook on the pole. "The fish will know you're here," he said.
She managed to return his weak smile as she labored to breathe, struggled to regain control of her bruised pride and broken heart. "I don't think my nightmares are as bad as yours," she said quietly.
He squeezed her hand soothingly before reluctantly releasing her. They had never spoken about their experiences, though it was apparent they'd both changed forever. But Aria had gained weight while in captivity; Max had grown even thinner, and his bones were still sharp against his pale skin. He had far more bruises, scars, and bite marks than she did, though her scars were mainly inside. His experience was much more physically taxing but just as mentally abusive, and toxic, as hers.
"That's a good thing," he murmured.
She tilted her head, offering him a small half smile. His clear blue eyes were tender. His sandy blond hair hung about his handsome face and stark features. It was her fault Max was in that awful situation. He allowed himself to be captured after she was taken, with the hope he could get them both free.
Unfortunately, he hadn't anticipated how locked down blood slaves were. Though, she'd been afforded far more freedom than him.
She glanced at her wrist, the one scarred by the leash she’d tried to rip from her. All she'd gotten for her efforts was a bloody wrist, bloody fingers, and a pissed off prince who had been unbelievably tender afterward.
She forcefully shut down the thought. Recalling the prince as tender and loving only reopened the raw and jagged lesions still festering on her heart.
"You never should have been there, Max, I'm sorry," she said.
It was the first time she’d apologized to him for her role in his capture; she couldn’t get the words out before. She'd tried to apologize many, many times, but neither of them liked to be reminded of their time there.
They both kept it to themselves in a bogus attempt to deny it even happened, and they were both failing miserably at it. No matter how much they sought to pretend their captivity hadn't happened, they couldn't succeed.
He was silent for a moment as he stared across the lake. When he turned toward her, his eyes were haunted, but there was something else in them too, something more.
Only one other man had ever looked at her like that, and in the end, he’d left her shattered. She was barely able to breathe through the grief continuously clawing at her insides. The prince had ruined her, and Max didn't fully understand that yet. She hoped one day he would. The last thing she wanted was to have Max saddened because of her again, but with the way he was looking at her, she felt it was inevitable.
"I chose to go after you, Aria. It was my fault I was caught, not yours. Even knowing what I do now, I wouldn't change anything. I would never leave you alone, never."
She searched his face. She’d always found him handsome, and she still did, but it was not the dark, dangerous ruggedness the prince possessed. Max was blond, with bright blue eyes, and his open, sweet face made many girls swoon.
At one time, he’d made her swoon. So much so that Max was her first and only kiss before she met the prince. And then she’d known that no matter what feelings she once possessed for Max, they'd been nothing compared to what she felt for the prince.
And now the prince was go
ne, lost to her forever. Max was looking at her with the same amount of longing she'd seen in the eyes of the prince. She swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting against the tears threatening to fall. Unlike the prince though, Max would never betray or use her.
Max would love her and never seek to destroy her. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe, to build her up again, and would sacrifice himself over and over for her. Even if the prince could locate her, he never would come for her. The prince had a fiancée to take care of now, a vampire to build a life with, to have children with. She was nothing but a pitiful human toy to him.
Even knowing all these things, why did she still love the bastard? Why on earth couldn't she love someone as caring and sweet as Max? Oddly enough, she did love Max. She loved him with a fierce sort of protective love, but she wasn't in love with Max and knew she never would be.
Aria shook her head, trying to deny his words. "Max—"
"It's okay, Aria, one day you'll forget him, you'll move on."
"You know about him?" she whispered, unexpected shame flooding her body.
She felt like a traitor and a fool. Her father was the leader of the rebels; her brothers and Max were some of his strongest fighters in the cause, just as she was before her capture. They had been willing to risk their lives for her, and she...
Well, she had given her heart to a vampire, the oldest son in the royal family no less, the heir to the throne. They had been willing to die for her while she had been falling in love with one of their greatest enemies. She thought of the prince as a monster, and because she loved him, she’d also come to accept the fact she must be one too.
"I suspected," he murmured. "You can't blame yourself, Aria, it was an awful time. Things were warped and wrong in there. It's not your fault you trusted him. Of course, you did; it was frightening, and you were confused. He had a month to manipulate you, to make you think you could believe in and love him."
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