Beneath the Shadows of Evil... Treasured

by Jolynn Raymond

  He went slowly, savoring each moment of this unexpected time with her, knowing full well that had she been awake and alert, she would have been pushing against him, demanding to be put down.

  The sound of horses and a wagon reached his ears but he didn’t think on it. The rest of the world mattered not at the moment; all his thoughts were focused on the willing woman in his arms. How easy it would be to seduce her now, to lay her down and begin the feather light touches that would make her body come alive beneath his hands, but it wasn’t meant to be, not yet.

  He paused beside the bed, holding Natalya, not able to put her down, and her eyes turned dreamy, staring up at him, unguarded, and in them he saw a softness that spoke of caring. Though her tongue may be sharp, though they had their spats and one or the other stormed off more often than not, she was now looking at him, eyes hooded, but filled with contentment. She wished for him as much as he did her, and it wasn’t merely a physical attraction.

  Natalya lifted one hand ever so slowly, the effort to do so in her half asleep state almost more than she could manage, and pressed the tips of her fingers to his lips, whispering his name.

  “Lucian.”

  He groaned, heart swelling along with his loins, and fought the mad desire to capture her lips. Now wasn’t the time. He had to wait, and he knew if he kissed her now, all would be lost, so he simply bent to brush his lips upon her cheek instead. She sighed, mouth opening in anticipation of the kiss that didn’t come, and all his good intention was laid to waste.

  Capturing her mouth with his, he crushed her body against his chest and let out a low growl of pleasure even as her hand snaked up and entwined in his dark locks. She kissed him back, deeply, with a passion that met his own, her body awakening along with her mind, as tingles of pleasure shot forth from her core, and twas at that moment that the door to Natalya’s chamber opened to emit Danior.

  His eyes took in the scene before him, neither participant in the drama noticing the intrusion until Natalya’s husband let out a roar of rage. Mikhal grabbed the man as he went to lunge forward. Alliana had in fact attempted to stop him from even entering Natalya’s chamber without knocking, but Danior had shrugged off her hand and burst in.

  “Natalya!” He whirled on Mikhal, trying to break free. “You have turned her into a whore of the castle? Is that the way of things? My wife is a whore? Is this why she is so happy?”

  Shocked, Natalya let out a cry of dismay and tried to struggle to her feet but Lucian put her on the bed, shoving her back when she tried to rise, hissing at her. He would take care of this. No man called Natalya a whore.

  Mikhal, shocked by the scene before him as well, pushed back his own anger at Lucian, and held fast to Danior.

  Standing tall, turning slowly away from the bed, Lucian allowed his demon to come forth as he stepped towards the man who had dared to insult his woman.

  “Let him go.” That he dared to command his Master didn’t enter his mind, so full of rage was he.

  “No, Mikhal...”

  “Alliana, take Katia and little Mikhalen to your chambers. NOW!”

  “Natalya”

  “Natalya stays. This concerns her. Now go.”

  Alliana wanted to argue with him, hated to leave her friend, but she had her children to think of, and a battleground was no place for them. Hurrying to the cradle, she lifted her son who let out and indignant wail, and scooped him up with her free arm, then headed for the door, casting a worried look back over her shoulder at Natalya who now sat perched on the edge of the bed behind Lucian.

  Once the door had closed behind his wife, Mikhal released Danior, certain the man wouldn’t charge headlong at Lucian who was in full demon form. He had guessed correctly, Natalya’s husband stood where he was, but made the insane decision to hurl more insults at his wife.

  “I come here to bring you home only to find you whoring with the likes of them. How dare you?”

  Natalya tried to get off the bed, indignation filling her, but Lucian shoved her back. This was not her battle. He would silence the man before him with glee, defending Natalya’s honor and proving his intentions.

  “Your wife is no whore and she isn’t your wife any longer either. You’ve lost all claim to her.”

  Mikhal’s eyebrows rose at Lucian’s bold words, his eyes narrowing. Who exactly did his first in command think laid claim to Natalya? Had Lucian gone against their law and taken her for himself the minute Mikhal was gone from the castle? He chose to silently watch the drama play out, then question Lucian at length, and punish him if need be. For now, he was on Lucian’s side. Natalya’s husband was undeserving of a woman such a Natalya, and the man’s disparaging words confirmed Mikhal’s belief that Danior cared not for her.

  “You have no rights to her. She is mine. I wed her; she belongs to me. Natalya, get up, I shall return you home and our clan can decide your fate.”

  “Leave me be, Danior. Tis not what you think and you have no hold on me any longer. Lord Arcos gave you much silver in exchange for me. You have been compensated.”

  Danior let out a bellow of fury and went forward, intending to grab his wayward wife and teach her the manners she was so lacking in, but Lucian met him long before he reached the bed, more than happy to begin the battle for Natalya.

  He grasped Danior by the scruff of his shirt and shook him, eyes flashing fire, fangs dripping with spittle. “You were told to leave her. I shall give you but one chance to turn and flee before I tear you to shreds.”

  “Not without what’s mine.”

  Lucian lashed out, talons slashing in an instant, laying a bloody swath across Danior’s chest in a split second.

  “Lucian!”

  He turned at the sound of her voice, not quite fully aware or in control and his eyes met Natalya’s. His were cold, demonic, lethal, hers pleading for him to listen. Something in her gaze cut through his need to kill and he paused, tilting his head, breaths coming out in tiny pants as he fought to maintain control.

  Natalya, frightened by his demon visage but not repulsed, sat tall. “I do not wish to go with him, Lucian, all I ask is that you make it fair. As you are, you shall slaughter him in an instant. He is but a man, fight him as a man.”

  “Get hold of yourself, Lucian. We shall take this to the great hall. This is no place for a battle. Natalya, a battle is no place for you either. You are to remain here until summoned. Your wishes have been made known.”

  Natalya shook her head and Mikhal snarled. “Do not defy me, woman. I am the one who truly can claim you and as such am the only one who can order you about. Do as you are told. You will only distract them and be in the way.”

  Mikhal turned, knowing the others would follow. As the men left to do battle below, Natalya rose and went to the door, a sob in welling up as she pressed her palms against the heavy wood. This wasn’t what she wanted, not at all.

  True she didn’t want to be dragged back to the clan, had no wish to be wife to Danior any longer, but a battle over possessing her... well it would only end in misery and guilt. Still, if Danior was fool enough to fight Lucian then the man deserved his fate. Her husband had been paid a high price for her, higher than any bride price, and he should have simply let her go and found another. Twas simple pride that was the cause of all this, not love, for Danior had never cared for her like that nor she him.

  Pacing about the room once, twice, three times, then knowing she couldn’t stay there any longer, Natalya slipped out of her chamber and to the top of the staircase that led down to the great hall. She took up place behind the grand balustrade and held her breath, staring down at the battle that had already begun. In a moment, she felt someone by her side, and turned to see Alliana, looking at her wide eyed. Alliana wrapped an arm around Natalya’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, and then both turned back to the battle that was happening below.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucian gazed at his opponent, his face that of a man though his eyes glowed amber. It was a struggle to
be sure to push his demon down. Rarely did he do battle as a man. Rage and violence was what the vampire in him fed upon, and to have to still his beast for this fight took every ounce of control he possessed, but he did it, because it was right, and it was for Natalya.

  Lucian knew he had every right to slaughter the man before him. Though Danior was Natalya’s husband by human law, Lord Arcos owned her now in the eyes of his kind. Danior had also degraded Natalya, making accusations that weren’t so, and Natalya had clearly stated she wished to remain at the castle. All of those were good reasons to be done with the pitiful human before him, and he would, soon, but he would make it a fair fight and do his killing as a human.

  If he let his beast take control, then Natalya would see him as such, for he knew she watched from high above. Neither woman was fooling anyone by hiding behind the balustrade on the stairs. Lucian was certain his Master had sensed them as well, but the time for sending them away was long gone. He had other, more pressing things to deal with at the moment, and he was certain that Mikhal would keep the women out of harms way should they be foolish enough to take even one step down the stairs.

  He growled, low and deep, his beast snarling out its wish to begin, and sized up his opponent. Danior was a short but stout man, muscular from the hard labor his life entailed, but he was clumsy and slow as well. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, not really, not even man to man, for Lucian far outweighed his adversary in both skill and ability.

  Lucian was quicker, a highly trained fighter, skills honed to a fine art after years of killing and serving his Masters. He was lean yet strong, and his senses were highly honed. Danior didn’t stand a chance of walking out alive, but the fact didn’t bother Lucian in the least. He had given the man a chance to leave, Mikhal had told him he would be allowed safe passage, but the fool had refused, choosing instead to fight for what he thought belonged to him.

  “Let this begin, I have no time for theatrics. Danior, I shall give you one last chance to leave. Take it now or be certain that you shall not depart here alive.” Mikhal’s words weren’t said with malice, but they were delivered in a cold emotionless tone. He meant every word he had just spoken, and knew Natalya’s husband would be dead within minutes.

  “I shan’t leave without what’s mine. Whoring ways or no, she must be brought before the Kris to determine her fate and then take her proper place serving me as my wife after her punishment.”

  Lucian roared at his degrading use of the word whore once more and charged. It was time to put an end to this nonsense. Natalya belonged here where she was cared for and treated well, not in some Gypsy camp to be judged on crimes she didn’t commit.

  He came at Danior full force, knocking the man from his feet as they both tumbled to the ground in an eerie replay of the battle Lucian had fought for the life of the very same woman not long ago. Danior had anticipated the charge and had his hands up and ready, and they were now wedged between himself and the body of the vampire on top of him, giving him leverage.

  He shoved hard upon Lucian’s chest, pushing him up, making him jerk back, then landed a sharp blow to Lucian’s chin, putting all his rage and righteousness into the punch. Lucian’s head snapped back and his hold on the other man loosened just a bit, and Danior took the momentary break to yank the large silver cross from around his neck and press it onto Lucian’s neck.

  “You thought I would come to a place of hell without the proper weapon?”

  Lucian roared, stunned, and fell back, and Danior followed, the two switching places, Danior still holding the cross tightly to the vampire’s skin, scorching him as Lucian’s hands clawed at Danior, seeking relief. Fury fueled by pain made him twist about and try to break free. He landed a blow of his own, crushing Danior’s nose, and then succeeded in throwing Danior off. Natalya’s husband went tumbling back; blood spurting from his broken nose, then both men rose and began to circle each other.

  Lucian fought back his demon with all his will. The beast inflamed by the fight and the scent and sight of fresh blood. He focused on Danior’s eyes watching, knowing the man’s next move would be revealed there a split second before he made it. His quarry’s eyes darted about, searching for a weapon, but found that the dropped cross had skidded across the floor and was far out of reach.

  “No fancy tricks to help you now. You’ll have to fight me, man to man.”

  “You’re no man.”

  “No but I am fighting as one. Do not dishonor yourself by resorting to tricks.”

  “You speak of honor? One who feasts on the blood of my kind? I shall show you no honor.”

  “It matters not, either way you shall die.” That said, tired of talking, feeling Natalya’s eyes upon him and not wishing for the battle to be prolonged, Lucian charged at Danior, the force sending both men across the room and crashing into one of the dining chairs, breaking it as they went past and landed upon the great table.

  Candelabras crashed to the floor, as did the silver upon the table as the two battling men shoved it to the floor. Lucian gained the upper hand, perched over Danior, kneeling on his chest and striking blow after blow until the man was dazed. With a roar he pummeled the Gypsy man, both fists flying, then grasped him about the throat and began to squeeze. Danior’s eyes bulged, registering shock at the ease with which his opponent had bested him.

  As his grip tightened, Lucian heard Natalya draw a harsh breath. He turned and looked up, never loosening his hold, eyes searching for her face in the shadows of the stair landing.

  Her green ones bore into him, full of sorrow, but holding no accusations or plea for mercy. Her honor and way of life were on the line and she knew this was how men settled their differences. Still...

  “I shall give you one last chance to leave here and never return. Forget Natalya. She is your wife no longer. Her life is here.”

  Danior’s fingers were clutching at Lucian’s hands, trying to make him release his death grip to no avail. His mouth opened and closed like a carp out of water, gaping and gasping for air, eyes open wide.

  “Agree or die.”

  Danior nodded.

  “You shall leave here and never return? Never make trouble for Natalya?”

  Again the man nodded and Lucian released him. He rubbed his aching throat, taking in huge gulps of air, purple bruises ringing his throat, blood covering his face. Lucian rose and jumped off the table, dismissing the man behind him. He had no wish to gaze upon such a feeble excuse for a man. Human or no, the man had given up his honor that day.

  Danior, hanging his head, crawled off the table and stood unmoving as Lucian dismissed him, full of rage but not showing his fury, hiding behind his defeat. He shuffled forward, and then suddenly stooped and picked up a leg of the broken chair, hefting it high, the jagged end pointed at the hated vampire who had stomped upon his pride.

  With a cry of rage he charged, knocking the unsuspecting Lucian to the floor, face first. Danior grabbed a handful of the vampire’s hair and lifted, then smashed his face into the stone floor, momentarily stunning him.

  Mikhal, taking it all in, snarled, not pleased with the turn the battle had taken, but having no intention of stepping in. Danior had not fought fairly, had in fact surrendered, but Lucian had been a fool to turn his back on his opponent, even after he had admitted defeat.

  Taking advantage of the dazed state of the vampire beneath him, Danior rolled to the side and tugged at Lucian’s arm, rolling him over, then attempted to place himself on top once more, but Lucian had other ideas.

  The vampire rolled the other way, creating a distance between them and rose to his knees, wiping the blood from a gash in his forehead from his eyes just in time to see Danior stand, the make shift stake upraised. Just as Danior was charging, bring the stake towards Lucian’s chest, intending to turn his hated enemy to dust, Lucian lunged as well, hitting Danior in the knees, knocking him off balance, the arm with the stake coming down and striking his adversary in the shoulder, piercing it, but not his heart.

 
; Natalya screamed and came running down the stairs but Mikhal went forward and caught her about the waist as she tried to rush across the great hall to where her husband and Lucian were battling.

  “NO!”

  “Tis not your place.” The words were said with a snarl. He was furious she had defied his earlier command and he wasn’t about to allow her to put herself in danger now.

  Danior fought to dislodge the chair leg that was embedded in Lucian’s shoulder, but Lucian shoved him backwards with all his might, the agony of his wound making his demon come forth. It wasn’t a matter of control any longer. He was wounded and full of fury, and there was no holding his beast back.

  Eyes glowing, snarling like the dogs of hell, fangs glistening, shoulder and forehead dripping crimson blood, Lucian advanced upon Danior who had fallen backwards and lay upon his back, staring at the terrifying creature moving towards him ready to kill.

  He rolled onto his hands and knees and tried to scramble forward and gain his footing, but Lucian was far too quick. He pounced, predator, springing upon prey, and grabbed hold of Danior’s head, twisting it with a sickening snap, effectively putting an end to the life of the man who had dared to challenge him.

  Lucian dropped Danior then, letting him fall to a heap at his feet, and turned away. His beast wanted to feed. He had gained victory and had every right to savor his opponent’s blood, but Lucian knew he had to control himself. He yanked the make shift stake from his shoulder with a roar, and then pushed back his demon, changing once more into that of the handsome man, and turned towards the woman whom he had fought for.

  Seeing Danior dead, knowing there was no longer a threat to Natalya’s safety, Mikhal released her. She raced across the great hall and flung herself into Lucian’s arms, sobbing, whispering prayers of gratitude that the man she cherished had come out alive.

  Ignoring his Master’s presence, Lucian took Natalya to him, crushing her in his arms, and kissing her fiercely, possessively, in a manner that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He had won the battle, defending her honor and slaying the one who owned her in the eyes of her kind. He deserved the right to her now.