He rose up, licking his lips, one hand trailing over her breasts, pinching and squeezing, all gentleness gone. The monster was in control. Her cries of fury turned to pleas for mercy as despair set into her soul, but they fell on deaf ears as Mikhal’s demon took what was his. Touches soft then sharp, bringing pleasure then pain scorched her body, his hands were everywhere, and always above her was that face, that horrid face that bespoke of his true self.
“Mine. You are mine and you had better not ever forget it, wife. You are never to run from me again. Have you forgotten what I shall do to your family?”
“Please, Mikhal. I wasn’t trying to run away. I needed air, and then I became frightened. Please stop. Please.”
“Liar. You’ll never be free of me, Alliana. Never.”
“Didn’t I come back of my own free will? Please, Mikhal. Didn’t I come back?”
She was twisting and writhing under him, and he was ready to take what was rightfully his. Ready and gloriously hard, his cock throbbed with the promise of the warm body beneath him. She was his by marriage; his by blood, her words didn’t matter. The demon inside him cared not that she spoke the truth. He’d sat in her chambers and envisioned a life without his mate and the pain it had inflicted inside him had been almost too much to bear. Now she would pay for wronging him. She would pay and she would never, ever, dare to leave him again.
He forced her thighs apart with a simple nudge of his powerful legs, kneeling between them, reaching down to her folds, touching, caressing. She fought him, bucking and trying to evade his probing fingers while a litany of pleas fell from her lips. And though he tried, he couldn’t make her body produce the dew that was needed for their joining and it angered him further. He had no wish to tear into her and put his son at risk.
Snarling, he nipped at her neck, over his mark of claim, drawing blood then suckling as a low growl rumbled deep in his chest. Alliana instantly went limp beneath him, all fight leaving her soul at the command of her alpha male.
Mikhal lapped at her neck, nibbling and suckling, and Alliana’s body began to hum, pleasure from his intimate action spiraling from deep within her belly, bring a response from her body that his talented hands couldn’t achieve, yet still her sobs filled the room. He stroked her folds as he lapped at the tiny scar that was so significant on her neck, making her moan, then opened up her womanhood and drew forth the desired liquid that would make their joining a thing of ease.
His finger teased her nub of pleasure as he continued to tend to his mark of claim, sending Alliana’s body into an increasing level of need, but still her mind cried out for him to stop. Her soul was in pain and Mikhal could feel her agony both through her words and through their special blood bond, and though he tried to turn a deaf ear, though his beast demanded that he rape the warm woman with a fierce and brutal thrusting, the part of him that was intricately entwined with her very being protested such harsh treatment.
Allowing his heart to lead him for the first time in a century, Mikhal softened and forced his demon to recede. He lay upon Alliana gently, and released her hands, stroking back her tangled locks and kissing her forehead while murmuring soft words of apology.
“Shhh Kitten, it’s all right now. I won’t take you like that. Open your eyes, Alliana. My beast is gone. I’m sorry. I was so angry when you disappeared. I was afraid.”
“I hate you.”
It was the last thing Mikhal needed to hear at that moment. Fury, pain, confusion, and lust were vying for dominance inside him. His beast roared at him to conquer the bitch beneath him. She was his mate and she should heed him in all things, but the man in him, the part of him that still dwelled in the darkest recesses of his heart, objected to the sight of her tears. The man in him resisted and cried out at her words.
“Alliana”
“I hate you!”
Mikhal shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to close out the sound of her words as they cut him with their razor sharp edge. He held himself still upon her, oh so still, trying to ignore the pounding in his loins but it was a battle lost before it was begun. The scent of her was in his nostrils, the taste of her blood on his tongue, the feel of her heat pressed against him, burning his throbbing member, making his need overwhelming. Again his demon demanded satisfaction. It screamed for it, and with a cry of defeat, Mikhal rose above her, positioning his manhood at her opening, then thrust forward, burying him deep within her searing womb. The beast had won and he was helpless to deny it.
“ NO!”
“Yes.”
Slowly he began to move within her, as Alliana lay beneath him sobbing. He planted tiny kisses upon her face, whisking away her tears, but more only replaced them. Stroking, angling his hips, touching all the right places, Mikhal did all in his power to stop her retched cries, but Alliana would have none of it. The pain in her soul at her defilement overrode her pleasure, blocking it out, leaving her loins as cold as her heart.
Mikhal moved within her, time and again, deeper and deeper as the pleasure built in his loins. She was molten and velvety soft, and oh so tight, and he had missed the feel of her body surrounding his. He knew he could force her to respond by tending to his mark. The action would send instant pleasure coursing through her, wanted or not, but part of him wanted to spare her that indignity. The fact that she was in such pain as it was, hurt him deeply, but the demon in him over rode his feelings of guilt and shame, pressing him on with the animalistic instinct that dwelled in the spot that used to be occupied by his soul.
When he was near the pinnacle of ecstasy, he allowed his demon to surface once more, roaring out its claim for its mate, reveling in the ownership of the woman in his arms. He bit deeply as he spilled his cold seed in her womb, drinking of her hot blood as he made his final thrusts, letting it flow over his tongue as her body convulsed in an unwanted orgasm around him. He knew she would hate herself for it, and wished he’d been able to keep her from that humiliation, but again it was what his demon had demanded. It was part of the coupling, the mating, and it had to be done. Her blood was like the sweetest of elixirs, and he could no more resist it than the call of the Siren’s song.
As she lay shaking under him, disgust flowing through her as surely as the last vestiges of pleasure, Mikhal tried to talk to her once more.
“I’m sorry, Pigeon. I know that wasn’t what you wanted, but you are my wife.”
Alliana remained mute. She turned her head as silent tears trickled from her tightly closed eyelids.
“Alliana.”
She stiffened beneath him, making it clear there was nothing to be said. He’d violated her very core, and husband or not, she felt abused and filthy.
The anger that was so convenient rose up in Mikhal once more at her stubbornness and her refusal to accept his apology. “You are my wife and I had every right to take what belongs to me.”
“You have made that quite clear, My Lord. Please save your excuses and your apologies.”
Furious at her attitude, Mikhal rolled off Alliana and got to his feet, pacing back and forth beside the bed. “Damn it, woman! A wife is to serve her husband in all things, be it servicing his lust or tending his home. I shall not be made to feel guilty for doing what I have every right to do.”
“Only those with souls feel guilt so you have nothing to fear. If you are finished violating me, I’d like you to leave.”
“I’ll leave when I am done with you.” He made a grab for her, yanking her off the bed and into his arms once again, bringing his lips down upon hers in the most brutal of kisses. His arms wrapped around her like steel bands, holding her immobile as his tongue snaked its way between lips that opened in a cry of protest. He kisses her hard and long until she was breathless and her knees were weak, and then flung her to the bed.
“Now I am through.”
“Bastard!”
“A lady does not speak in such a manner, Alliana. Your heritage is showing. See that it doesn’t happen again.”
“I hate y
ou.”
“So you have told me.” The demon in Mikhal laughed as fury and pain filled her eyes. It was a low evil sound that chilled her and made her want to clasp her hands over her ears. He was all evil now, her rejection had brought out the worst in him and his beast was once more hovering just below this visage of civility. “Your hatred has no effect on me, my Dear. You yourself just stated that I have no soul. Therefore it matters little if you despise me. See that you don’t leave the castle again.”
With that, he stormed out without bothering to clothe himself, not sparing a glance behind him for the woman who continuously caused such an upheaval of emotions in his heart. Alliana ran after him and slammed the door shut, wishing for all the world that there were a bolt on the heavy slab.
She pounded her fists upon the wood in fury and frustration, and then swiped at her mouth, scrubbing in vain, trying to wipe away the taste of her husband. Failing in her task, feeling degraded and disgusted, she ran to the chamber pot and retched up the contents of her stomach, heaving until there was nothing left, then, she frantically reached for the first gown her hands happened upon in the wardrobe, with a single purpose embedded in her soul.
One thing was running through her mind. She had to be clean again. She had to escape these walls and be clean. He’d made her filthy, sullied and disgusting, and he was everywhere. His scent, his taste, all of him was everywhere. She could feel his seed drying on her thighs, the lingering touch of his hands upon her skin, the press of his lips to her mouth, and Alliana knew she had to be clean or she would go insane.
Dressing quickly, knowing she was risking the death of an innocent by defying her husband, she slipped out of her chambers, thankful that the guard hadn’t had time to return to his post, and silently crept through the castle. There had to be other ways out of her prison besides through the great hall, and Alliana was determined to find one. It would be risky, but her life depended on being clean again, and the only thing that would cleanse her now would be the stream. She had to find running water and let it wash away the filth of her degradation. That was something she knew deep down in her soul.
Chapter Eighteen
Alliana raced away into the night, the dark walls of the castle keep looming over her as she ran. It was an eerily reminiscent repeat of the night Mikhal the Merciless had come upon her in his orchard, and that fact wasn’t lost on her. Once more she was running as if Satan himself was at her heals.
This night was even colder than that one had been. The icy wind cut through her thin gown, and gave a razor sharp edge to the air as she drew in each breath. Her feet were bare aside from her stockings, having forgone her shoes in favor of the silence bare feet provided, and the thin layer of new snow on the ground made the going both treacherous and frigid.
She had no real idea which way she needed to go, and was simply relieved to be free of her prison, having wound around the twists and turns of the hallways for what seemed like a lifetime, always making her way downward, until coming to a door in the rear of the castle near the kitchen.
As luck would have it, no one had seen her but a few terrified servants, and as before, they held their tongues. It was best not to become involved in the goings on between the Master and his new bride. Alliana supposed the other vampires were just rising from their beds and setting off to the grand hall to dine on whatever poor souls might be on the menu for that night. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, she was free, free, and now she had to use that freedom to cleanse the filth of her husband from her soul.
Fearing the sound of pounding hooves behind her at any moment, Alliana ran on, heedless of the child inside her, heedless of the snow soaking her stockings, heedless of the cold air that stole her breath as she did her best to draw it into her burning lungs and continue on her flight. She reached the woods and paused for a moment, knowing they represented just a bit of shelter from prying eyes. Looking back at the castle that was now a dark hulking shape behind her, she strained her eyes in the darkness, looking for signs of pursuit.
Seeing none, she nodded, satisfied that her flight had gone undetected as of yet. She imagined her husband wouldn’t even conceive of the idea that she’d defy him so soon and actually have the audacity to flee the castle once more. Perhaps she’d be able to return before he was aware, perhaps not, it didn’t matter one way or another. Right now she had to be clean.
Racing into the night once more, hair flying, feet slipping, icy needles of pain cutting into the soles of her feet with every step she took in the frosty snow, Alliana turned her back on the walls that had become her hell and searched the forest for the stream she knew ran through it. Nothing mattered but finding the stream, the pure running water that would take away his touch and smell, and cleanse her soul once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Behind her in the castle, Enid knocked upon Marishka’s door, only to be met with silence. She shook her head, troubled, wondering where the Mistress of the castle could be. It was late enough that she certainly would have risen, and her absence caused a stir of worry deep inside the old witch.
It was an unspoken wish of Mikhal’s that Marishka not venture forth from her chambers alone, and while it was possible that she was with a minion, Enid had her doubts on that account. Marishka hadn’t even looked at the lesser vampires around her since Mikhal had taken Andor away; choosing instead to sit in her chambers and speak to the voices she claimed filled her head both day and night.
Opening the chamber door, Enid found that it was indeed empty. The body of a kitchen maid lay upon the stone floor, her skin white as marble except for the deep bruises that marred her face and body giving testament to the beating the Mistress had given her before draining her dry. She shook her head, worried, and mumbled to herself as she turned to go. It was clear that trouble was brewing at the castle that night, and both of her friends would have to be looked out for.
Enid was already worried about Mikhal. She had literally run into him only minutes earlier in the corridor. He’d knocked her off her feet, then stood there glowering down at her, a thunderous expression on his face, naked as the day his mother birthed him, hands fisted, stomach muscles clenched, legs slightly spread, clearly looking to tear someone’s head off. She’d thought it best not to question his mood for it was clear he’d come from his wife’s chambers. The fact that the Gypsy girl had gotten under his skin yet again troubled her deeply. The wench was having much too much hold on the Master of the castle.
Yes, Enid mused, her friends had become an unhappy pair since the arrival of Mikhal’s new mate, and that fact caused just a glimmer of doubt about Mikhal’s plans for the future of the clan to enter her heart. It was the first time she’d allowed such thoughts since she’d set eyes on the girl, and Enid quickly pushed them away. Now wasn’t the time to doubt Mikhal, what he needed was her support.
The witch hag shuffled down the corridor to the stone staircase and stood looking down over the great hall, but seeing no one but a lesser minion, she turned to go. It was clear that those she sought were not there. She headed off towards the chambers of the Mage, thinking perhaps that Marishka had decided to play with her dark magick to lift her spirits.
Reaching the chamber, she heard voices within and paused. Should she listen and invade her friend’s trust and privacy? No, it was not her way. She knocked and entered when she was bidden, and then stood in the doorway to take in the scene before her.
The Mage was wearing his ceremonial garb, as was Marishka. In a flowing robe of purple, Marishka was twirling around the room, giggling in delight as a young girl struggled against her bindings on the sacrificial altar. The tapers were lit around the chamber, giving it a soft glow, and casting strange shadows on the walls as Marishka danced her mad waltz. The room suddenly filled with the sound of the Mage’s rhythmic chanting as he stood before one of his tomes, and at the sound, Marishka approached the terrified girl, anthame in hand, prepared to offer up her sacrifice to her unholy gods.
“What are you
doing, sweet? What spell is it you are about to undertake?”
Marishka stopped, knife in midair, her face made ugly by the look of irritation upon it. “Leave me be, Enid. Go back to your potions.”
“But darling, you were to stay in your chambers. It is what Mikhal wishes. I don’t think he would want you performing magick right now.” What she didn’t say was that no one thought it was safe for Marishka to go about casting spells in her insane state. Magick had dark consequence, and no one wished to suffer because of her flight of fancy.
“Oh! What do I care of Mikhal and what he wishes? He would have me stay locked away, drinking your potion, dreaming my silly dreams instead of having fun. Well I’m tired of your opium, Enid, and I’m tired of your company, but most of all, I am extremely weary of being told what to do. I am the Mistress of this castle after all, and I should be able to do as I please.”
“I know you are, Pigeon, and you’ve been so very patient. It’s been so hard having ‘her’ in the castle and you’ve been so very good about it all. Just tell Enid what spell you are casting, my Mistress. That’s all I want to know.”
“You won’t try to stop me will you?” Marishka had the petulant pout of a spoiled child upon her face as she stared at the old witch, and Enid knew she would fly into a rage if denied her way.
“As long as it is safe Darling, then I am all for you having fun. I’ll even help to make it more exciting.” The girl on the altar pulled at her bindings and made a little sound of terror. Enid shot her a look of disgust, then set her eyes back on Marishka.
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