Aldric’s voice came out strong despite his obvious pain and Dubheasa felt a small surge of begrudging respect. It appeared that even as a human, Aldric retained his pride.
“Vincentas, continue her punishment while I speak with our master.”
A surge of anger straightened Dubheasa’s spine at his words.
“Your master, is he?” she snarled. “You dare refer to him as your master while you stand in my bedroom? You dare to suggest your attention is better spent on him than--aahhh!”
A cocktail of shock, pain, and pleasure abruptly choked her words as Vincentas’ fingers closed like a vice around one of her nipples. Cold metal pressed against her breast before an icy clamp closed around the base of her nipple, increasing the pressure of Vincentas’ hold. He released that nipple as her mouth opened and closed in a daze, then grabbed her other nipple. It took several seconds for Dubheasa to recover enough to realize Vincentas had brought her weighted nipple clamps from her cupboard with him--the ones she only used on fey.
The tiny sharp spikes that lined the inside of the clamps pierced her flesh, filling the air before her with yet another coppery layer of blood. The weights tugged at her breasts, pulling them down until they brushed Vincentas’ chest, every once in while easing the pressure as they rested on his muscled body.
“Oh, your majesty,” Vincentas whispered hoarsely. “You are truly a feast fit for a king.”
Helpless to fight the pleasure spiraling through her on the tail of her pain, Dubheasa could only cry out as Vincentas pressed the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy.
“I’m going to fuck you until your blood rains down on me,” Vincentas choked. “Oh, Dubheasa . . .”
“Yes,” she whimpered, thrusting her hips forward against his erection. “Oh, gods, yes . . .”
With one vicious thrust, Vincentas shoved himself inside her, burying himself to the hilt. A delicious pressure began to build inside her as he fucked her, her breasts swinging with the force of his thrusts, the spiked nipple clamps digging farther and farther into her flesh with every jerk of her body.
“Master, please sit down, let me attend your wounds.”
The sound of Bron’s voice speaking to Aldric instead of her, reignited her anger. Dubheasa shook her head, struggling to think past her pain and pleasure enough to rage at Bron’s inattention. Just when she’d managed to open her mouth, Vincentas dug his fingers into the wounds on her back. A jagged cry ripped from her mouth.
“Scream for me again,” Vincentas groaned.
His eyes flared brighter and Dubheasa whimpered. Tension sang down her back as his hands crept down her ribs, dancing over the sides of her breasts. His fingers brushed her nipples and she had just enough time to draw in a deep breath before he pinched them with an iron grip.
She screamed for him. She screamed as he thrust faster into her body, screamed as he smeared the blood escaping the clamps around her nipples. The orgasm hit her with the force of a full grown dragon, battering her body until she swung wildly in the chains. Vincentas roared out his own pleasure, thrusting so deep into her body she swore he would rend her in two, and holding himself there. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on her until blackness danced at the edge of her vision and her body went limp in the chains.
Dubheasa didn’t know how long she hung there. Voices buzzed at the edge of her attention like annoying insects. Wet warmth slid over her breast and sparks of pleasure awakened aftershocks deep in her pussy. She opened her eyes, not even realizing that she’d closed them.
Vincentas had slid down farther on the bed. He lay there lapping at the blood dripping from her breasts, an expression of rapture on his face. Dubheasa smiled and closed her eyes to better enjoy the sensation.
“They are bound to Valkyrine. Saule sent them to try and change her back, but it did not work.”
Dubheasa tilted her head, idly eavesdropping on the conversation happening beside her. She liked to listen.
“Are they all right?’
How sweet. He sounds concerned.
“I dare say they are better than all right. Valkyrine sent some rusalki--friends of hers--to find Marketta and force her to give up Kurt’s soul.”
“His soul? He is a vampire, his soul will not return to him.”
“He is a vampire no more, and neither is Anton. Valkyrine inherited her mother’s gift for transformations--they are moras now.”
“Moras?”
I know a mora. A frightful wench, and a wonderful personality too.
Silence dragged on for several moments. Apparently, Aldric was digesting the new information.
“Master, you should know that none of us have forgotten our oaths. We await your orders.”
“You honor me with your allegiance,” Aldric said softly. “And I do need your help. I need you to contact Anton and Kurt. Saule is worried about a great darkness near Valkyrine, ask them if they know to what darkness she is referring.”
“Chernobyl,” Dubheasa murmured absently. She shifted in her chains, enjoying the ache in her joints where she still hung suspended.
The room fell into silence. Vincentas abruptly ceased lapping at her blood. Dubheasa opened her eyes and stared down at Vincentas in disapproval. “Why have you stopped?”
“Chernobog?” Vincentas gasped.
Dubheasa frowned harder. “Chernobyl, Chernobog. Why have you stopped?”
“The black god? Here?” Aldric whispered.
Tension sprang to life in her shoulders and Dubheasa clenched her teeth. Not only had Aldric managed to distract her lovers--for the second time--but he had also reminded her that her invitation to Chernobyl--or Chernobog or whatever his bloody name was--had as yet gone unanswered. Dubheasa had sent her emissaries to him days ago requesting his presence in her court and the deity had yet to show.
Anger burned in her blood, heated by the indignity of the god’s lack of attention. “Now, you have gone and spoiled my fun,” she growled. “You will pay for this inconvenience, Aldric.” She glared at Vincentas. She didn’t bother to avoid his eyes, the vukodlak would not dare try to ensnare her outside their little games. “Release me.”
“Your majesty, forgive my impertinence,” Aldric insisted. His voice lacked its usual smooth conviction, still sounding somewhat shocked by the revelation that Chernobog was so close. “I cannot believe the black god is here and I did not know it.”
Vincentas did as she asked and released the chains from their anchors. She growled as he lowered her throbbing body to the bed and unfastened the shackles. Despite her ire, a sigh escaped her lips as she let her limbs go limp on the sheets. For a split second, she let herself wallow in the aftereffects of the violent pleasure her vukodlaks always gave her.
“This is the opportunity I have been waiting for,” Aldric murmured.
Dubheasa slanted a glance at him, her anger giving way to interest. “Opportunity?”
Aldric nodded, almost dazed as he stared at Bron. “Who else could take on the sun goddess, but the god of darkness?”
Bron shifted from foot to foot, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dubheasa smiled. The hulking man looked adorable when he was thinking too hard.
“Know that I will not consider it a mark against your honor, or your oath, if you do not wish to pursue this with me,” Aldric said quietly. “To engage with Chernobog--”
“I will follow you in whatever endeavor you take on,” Bron interrupted firmly. “’Engaging’ with the queen of the Unseelie did not seem like a wise idea at the time, but I--”
“But it turned out splendidly, did it not?” Dubheasa broke in happily.
Bron raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. She smiled wider at the way one corner of his mouth twitched up in a half smile before turning his attention back to Aldric.
“I was thinking only that Chernobog has wanted to get his dark hands on Saule for eons. He has never been successful. Why do you think it will be different now?”
“Because now he has me.”
Dubheasa propped her chin on her hand, staring at Aldric with renewed fascination. “You? And what help will a former vampire be to the god of darkness against the goddess of the sun?”
“Chernobog does not know what has transpired with Valkyrine nor has he ever had an ally in the sun goddess’ own castle. I am in a position to offer him the help he needs to finally get Saule in his clutches.”
“Oh! And I will help!”
Aldric and Bron both turned to stare at her as she shoved herself into a sitting position. Excitement buzzed around her like an aura of electricity and she smiled brilliantly at both of them.
“Your majesty? You desire to help?”
“Oh, yes,” Dubheasa nodded empathically. “This sounds fabulously interesting and I don’t want to miss any of it. I will bring you to my sithen whenever you call to me--until such time as I decide to revoke the offer. You can do all your planning here.”
“I cannot do all the planning her unfortunately,” Aldric reminded her. “Kurt and Anton are bound to Valkyrine, I must visit them there.”
“Wonderful! I’ve been meaning to visit Valkyrine and see how she’s coming along with her new form.”
Aldric’s face pulled into those tight lines that people’s faces seemed to get when they were about to give her bad news. Dubheasa frowned. He looked like he was in physical pain. More physical pain, she added to herself, than he was already in after falling down a mountain.
“Your majesty, if Saule were to look down from her mountain and see you visiting her daughter, she would find that very strange,” Aldric began carefully. “We should avoid doing anything that may make her suspicious.”
“Then you can arrange for your revenge to take place here. We can set a trap for Saule as she set a trap for you.”
Aldric clenched his teeth together for a second, but he didn’t give voice to whatever angry emotion had just passed through him.
“My plan will require Saule to be helpless, to take place at night when she is powerless. Night and day exist simultaneously in your sithen, as I learned on my last visit. I cannot get my revenge here.”
Dubheasa opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it. The blasted human was right. Slowly, she withdrew from reality, letting her mind spin and whir where it pleased while she thought of how she could possibly insinuate herself into the plan. If the god of darkness and the goddess of the sun were going to come up against one another she wanted a front row seat.
Suddenly, an idea came to her. She crawled to the edge of her bed and hefted herself over the rail. Pleasure tickled down her spine as she noticed Bron’s gaze following her naked curves as she made her way to her dresser. She made a mental note to find out what that look had to offer after Aldric left.
“Take this with you,” she said out loud, removing a small vial from her drawer. Intricate metal designs criss-crossed the smooth black glass in a rune of power. Aldric approached her carefully, his face betraying none of the pain he must have felt as he walked across her bedroom to where she stood.
“What is this?”
“It is a vial of water from my personal lake. If you need help, pour it on the floor and I will be able to hear everything you say, or even to transport you directly to my sithen.” She smirked. “You won’t have to throw yourself off any more mountains.”
Aldric took the vial, staring at it with hesitant gratitude. “I am grateful for the gift, and the offer of help,” he said slowly. “But may I ask why you are so invested in my revenge? It seemed to me after our last encounter that you had sided with Saule.”
“I side with whomever is winning,” Dubheasa corrected him. She shrugged. “Or whomever is most interesting.”
Dubheasa let her gaze travel with interest over the human standing before her. His pale body was battered and bruised, bleeding in several places. How many men would literally throw themselves off a mountain for their revenge? She smiled. She’s been right the first time--Aldric was going to be fun.
Chapter 4
Saule stared into the fiery eyes of the line of skulls topping the pale bone fence. Each flame drew a little of the sun’s energy, pulling a little bit of that heavenly brightness down to earth to light the darkness. Her heart pounded a little harder. The light in their eyes meant their mistress was home.
She raised her eyes to the hut behind the gate. Four sets of hen’s legs supported what otherwise would have looked like any other peasant’s hut. The small abode swayed in the air, catching every breeze. The mistress of the forest was up there, stirring her cauldron, meting out life and death. The witch Baba Yaga.
“Hut, o hut, turn your back to the forest and your front to me.”
The words left her lips in a whisper, her tone subdued by the fear that came with standing so close to the home of the most unpredictable, powerful, woman Saule knew. Despite her fear, she kept her spine straight and her voice steady. Baba Yaga was terrifying, to be sure, but she also possessed great wisdom. And Saule needed her help.
The hut creaked as it turned around and Saule had the uneasy feeling the living structure was watching her. Slowly it lowered itself on its fowl legs, bringing the door to the ground.
“I feel a warmth that comes only from the sun. Is it the goddess Saule who stands at my gate and orders my house about?”
The old feminine voice crept out on the wind, curling around Saule’s ears and sending a chill down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried to stand a little taller.
“It is Saule, grandmother,” she called out. “I’ve come to ask your guidance.”
“Ha!” Baba Yaga scoffed, her voice flying from within the hut. “We shall see. Come in then, goddess of the sun, my dinner is finished cooking and the table waits.”
The skull on the gate, its mouth full of wickedly sharp teeth, opened its jaws and the bones swung open. Saule steeled herself against the swell of fear rolling up inside her and stepped inside, stifling a wince as the macabre structure slammed shut behind her.
She walked up the short path through the bright green lawn and stooped to enter the small doorway. Baba Yaga smiled at her from her perch on top of her stove, flashing rows of sharp iron teeth. Saule carefully considered the witch, taking in her flaxen hair and ruddy complexion. Aside from the macabre mouth of teeth, she appeared as any other aged peasant woman might. Tension built in Saule’s muscles, her fight or flight reflex trembling with adrenaline. Baba Yaga was a shapeshifter of great power. Keeping her teeth iron and razor-sharp despite her otherwise pleasant appearance was a not-so-subtle warning: even a goddess was not immune to the whims of Baba Yaga.
Images of what those teeth could do to her flesh filled Saule’s mind with horrible images, just as Baba Yaga had no doubt intended. She knew even better than humans that stories of Baba Yaga’s cannibalism were not just myths. The witch would eat her own child if circumstances were just so. Saule didn’t fight her fear, didn’t try to hide it. Instead, she walked over to the oven and then knelt next to where Baba Yaga’s painfully thin legs hung over the edge. She opened the heavy door.
The smell of perfectly roasted meat filled the air inside the small hut. As she’d known it would be, the witch’s oven was full of food--easily enough for three large men. Saule calmly removed the bounty and set it on the table. She also fetched a jug of kvass from a cupboard, pouring the amber liquid into a mug before setting it on the table next to the meat. When the table was set with its feast, she stepped back and waited for Baba Yaga to sit.
“There is cabbage stew on the stove,” Baba Yaga said off-handedly. “You may help yourself to a bowl.”
The thought of eating anything was entirely unappealing, but Saule knew better than to turn down the witch’s offer. She did as Baba Yaga bade her and seated herself next to the old woman with her soup.
“I cannot make him stop hating you,” Baba Yaga mumbled between mouthfuls of meat.
Saule snapped her head up from her stew. “What?”
Baba Yaga tore another mouthful of flesh
from a large bone of what Saule dearly hoped was a pig.
“The red-headed beauty you have on your mountain. The one who dipped his hands in the blood of all those Russians.” Baba Yaga swallowed her mouthful and shook her head. “I cannot make him stop hating you.”
“I’m not here about him!”
The old witch frowned. “Then why are you here?”
Saule grabbed the mug of water Baba Yaga had allowed her and took a gulp as she tried to calm her nerves. The mere mention of Aldric set her blood boiling and her cheeks burning with remembered humiliation. The beast was not worth discussing.
“I am here about my daughter,” she said clearly, forcing her voice to remain even. She stared hard at the smooth rim of her mug, breathing in and out until the tension eased from her knuckles and shoulders. When she felt a measure of control had returned, she turned her gaze back to Baba Yaga. “I--”
Revenge in Vein, The Complete Series Page 16