He moved across the hard packed ground surrounding the castle, spotting her footsteps in the snow at once. He noted the small impressions of her toes and realized that she wore nothing on her feet, having forsaken warmth and common sense in her desire to be free of him.
“Stupid little fool.” Mikhal’s words hissed from behind teeth clenched in rage, but worry wormed its way into his heart at the same time.
The fact that she had fled him while they were bare made a chill run down his spine. Her feet had to be freezing. Didn’t the idiot wench know she could lose her toes? He cursed the stubborn streak that at times made him so pleased, but was now only causing fury, thinking of the horrid cold that was enveloping her now. That pride would make her pay a dear price tonight.
Where had she gone? What was she thinking, running off with nothing to cover her? Had she bothered with a cloak? The fool girl would probably catch her death. She hadn’t thought of the child she carried one bit, just her own selfish needs.
His anger mounted once again at these thoughts, but then they were tempered by her image. A picture of Alliana racing away from her prison, through the freezing night, filled his mind and he cringed. She was so alone and vulnerable right now and there were many things in the forest that would love to have her as a snack; minions who hadn’t ever seen her, and who could hurt her before they saw his mark of claim. Hungry wolves who would gladly attack if she fell and hurt herself, wild boar that would gut her in their rage.
Something bad very well could have happened to her, and Mikhal felt more certain by the moment that something actually had. He could feel it deep inside. She was scared and she was cold. The mating pull was strong, and it drove the male inside him to find and protect his female.
Questions filled his head as surely as their blood bond filled his inner core. What had befallen her? Would his son survive her flight? Why? Why had she run from him yet again?
A little voice deep inside him taunted him at his last pondering. He knew why. He knew very well why she had fled him. His wife was strong willed and proud, and he had treated her like a whore. He had treated her like every other human woman deserved to be treated, like he’d done with them all for a hundred years, without remembering that she was different. Alliana was special, and he had forgotten that fact in his rage at her continued defiance and rejection.
A part of him, the demon half, screamed that none of that mattered. She was but a hot body to be taken as he saw fit, and one who never seemed to obey at that. He shouldn’t kill her, but mercy shouldn’t be shown either. She wasn’t a vampire mate, she was a human, and therefore still among the class of mere cattle.
Mikhal tried to rationalize and grab hold of these thoughts with an iron fist, rage, immorality, and violence. Take, take, take, and force the weak to submit. These were the things that were familiar. They were the self-righteous ideals of someone used to having whatever he wants regardless of whom it hurt, but part of him had begun to feel differently over the past few weeks since Alliana had entered his life. Mikhal knew that there was another aspect to claiming a mate and if he was honest with himself, he should accept that aspect as well, even if Alliana was a human.
When he had claimed her, mated her, he had claimed the right to keep her as his own. To take her when he desired and have her serve him, but he had also claimed the responsibility for her. He had claimed the obligation to protect and nurture her, and he had failed. He knew deep inside that he hadn’t lived up to that responsibility. His mate was to be a part of him and he had abused his power over her in the worst way. He’d stripped away her dignity by raping her and then made it worse by being a bastard in the face of her anger.
He, Mikhal the Merciless, hadn’t been fair to his mate, and now she was hurt. Yes, there it was, he admitted it to himself. His demon screamed at the idea, but the man inside knew it was right. He had done wrong by his wife, and now she needed to be rescued. Did his behavior excuse what she had done? Would he still punish her? Yes, of course he would, her behavior couldn’t be abided by, but he would try harder in the future to treat her in a manner as was becoming his chosen partner.
He started off again, rage under control, one mission on his mind, when, suddenly, as he reached the edge of the forest, a heavy burden of emotions slammed into his chest, almost knocking him from his feet. Marishka had recited the last of the spell, and the Empathy curse that would damn him for all time was now complete. It was a spell meant to make him feel love for her again, to feel all of the emotions she’d felt for him over the last hundred years. One meant to bring him back to her side by making him feel all she imagined to be in her heart, but what it really did was ensure Mikhal would suffer for eternity.
Mikhal shook his head and clutched at his chest, then pounded it, trying to eradicate the pain. He stood, gasping for air he didn’t need, left dazed by the multitude of the feelings swelling inside as the spell Marishka chanted took hold. Finally, succumbing, he dropped to his knees. He heard Marishka’s delighted cackle behind him, at his show of weakness, but he refused to look back. He could picture her, standing atop the battlement in the moonlight, delighting in whatever it was that she had just done to him.
He threw back his head and shrieked into the darkness, then screamed out her name, but through it all the sound of her laughter continued to echo in his ears. He glanced back over his shoulder, expecting to see her dancing her mad dance, but instead found her watching, waiting, enjoying the hurt he was feeling. She raised one arm and beckoned towards him, a come hither movement, meant to be sensuous. He could see the expression of glee on her face, and feel her happiness coming at him through the night, even at this distance, and it both confused and angered him.
Mikhal tried to rise, not to go to her, but to continue on his mission; only to be forced down again as a fresh wave of emotion hit him. This one was anguish, and it came from Alliana, and the agony that flowed from her soul made him shiver. Before he had felt her calling. One mate to another, but this was different. This was more. Her pain was excruciating. Terror, rage, loneliness, self-hatred, all mixed together. All of the emotions he’d caused in her, swelled up inside Mikhal, and he threw back his head and screamed once more.
Falling to his hands and knees, Mikhal shook, trying to control the churning pain inside him, and get a handle it. He vamped out, then back, and then put on his demon visage again to no avail. No matter the form, his body felt the excruciating torment emanating from Alliana’s soul, and it sliced his own flesh like the sharpest of daggers.
Marishka didn’t matter. Whatever she had done to him didn’t matter. It could all be dealt with later. He had to get to Alliana; he had to save Alliana. Something was terribly wrong. Slowly, inch-by-inch, he rose, doing his best to block out the feelings that were cutting into his heart like shards of glass. When he had regained his feet, he took one step then another towards the trees, refusing to look back, determined to leave with his dignity intact. The forest was so close but yet so far, but in them was Alliana, and he had to go on for her.
Seeing her beloved brother continue towards the trees instead of returning to the castle and her arms sent Marishka into a rage. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to love her again but that wasn’t what was happening. Her Mikhal was still going to that Gypsy bitch.
Marishka called out in a pitiful wail, very reminiscent of a spoiled child on the verge of a tantrum. “Mikhal, come back to me, my love. Come and feel the love I have for you inside me and I shall make it all better. Your darling Marishka will ease your hurts, and you shall be blissfully happy in my arms. Only I can make it go away.”
Mikhal didn’t respond to her calls. He did feel her love, but he also felt her mounting anger when he ignored her pleas. He could feel the selfish desires behind her promises of soothing solace, and it repulsed him. Her heart was an evil black lump in her chest, and she cared for nothing but her own happiness and pleasure. It was clear now that his dear little sister thought of no one but herself
.
When he continued to walk, his back to her, ignoring her cries, she whirled on the Mage, furious, claws barred, eyes glowing amber. “What did you do wrong? Did you give me the wrong spell?”
Enid stepped forward, holding her cane before her, blocking Marishka before she could do damage to the Mage. “I told you things would work this way. He isn’t feeling love for you, he’s feeling the pain of those around him, especially her. She is his mate; they have a bond. They are tied at the heart and now all she has suffered he will suffer too. No more will he be able to hurt her, to taunt her, to treat her, as he should, without feeling her pain. You have cursed him Marishka, and saved your worst enemy as well.”
“But he shall feel my love for him too.”
“Do you not think he feels it now? Do you not think he already knew how you felt for him? He does and he did, and look where he still goes, to her. He goes to her, as he always will. All you have done is made him weak.”
“No. NO! I won’t have it.” Marishka shoved Enid aside and the hag went sprawling on the floor. Lunging forward, Marishka grasped the Mage’s arms and shook him with furious rage.
“Do something. You did this, now you have to make it right. Find me more magick to change this back. Look in your dusty old book and change this back.”
“Dark magicks cannot be undone, Mistress. There is always the danger of unforeseen consequences.”
Enid looked up at the Mage, an expression of disgust on her face. She doubted if the results of the spell were unforeseen to him. He had been practicing magick for years and knew as well as she did that what had happened to Mikhal was exactly what the spell intended for its victim. She struggled to her feet, angry, sad, pity and fear for Mikhal swelling inside her.
“Marishka, perhaps it’s best if we go below to your chambers and wait for Mikhal to return there.” Enid didn’t know how they were going to cope with the change that was sure to come over Mikhal in the future, but she didn’t want Marishka standing lookout when he returned with Alliana. She thought it very possible that he would be just a shell of the Master Vampire he’d been.
Surely he wouldn’t be able to rule the castle while experiencing all the emotions of those he tormented. He would feel the horror of his victims when feeding, so how could he carry on as the fierce and bloodthirsty ruler he had been? She supposed that in the end, time would tell, but regardless of what happened, they needed a strong vampire on the throne, and if Mikhal couldn’t do the job, then he would have to be dealt with. That wasn’t to say Enid wouldn’t help him in any way she could if he proved to be trying, but in the end, when it came down to it, the clan came first, and if Marishka or Lucian turned out to be the better leader, then so be it.
“No, I want to stay.” The familiar pout had returned to Marishka’s face. Her rage was spent. She’d pushed the consequences of her actions from her mind as she did all unpleasant thoughts, and now she was simply filled with curiosity. Perhaps Enid was wrong and Mikhal was simply fetching his Gypsy whore so they could toy with her. Perhaps he was even going to hand her to Marishka as a gift of apology for all the horrid things he’d done. Yes, that was it. It was all just a game, and her Mikhal would come back when he was through traipsing around the forest in search of his whore.
“Darling do you really want to see him return with ‘her’?”
Marishka stamped her foot and whirled to where Mikhal was slowly walking to his love, one step at a time. A frown creased her brow and she huffed in disgust, and then took Enid’s outstretched arm. No, she didn’t want to see. She didn’t like all this unpleasantness. It made her sad. Even if he were bringing her back to be a plaything, Marishka didn’t need to see him dragging her through the snow.
Her pout deepened, but then a smile lit her face as a new idea came to her. “Mage, have Andor released from the dungeon. I don’t think Mikhal will be in any condition to complain when he returns and I want my toy back. He may be bringing his bitch to me later, but I want my old toy back now.”
“Yes Mistress. Right away.” Enid took note of the small smile that had appeared on the Mage’s face at Marishka’s order, and she once again questioned the man’s loyalty to Mikhal. She stared at him, catching his eye, wishing she could read his mind, and then felt a tug on her arm.
“Well what are you waiting for Enid? Let’s be off. I need one of your soothing potions; it’s been a disagreeable start to the night.”
Once they were gone, the Mage turned back to Mikhal, calling out into the night at his receding form. "Let’s see how you like that, you bastard traitor. I know where your heart lies now, and it’s not with those in this castle. Can you feel the pain, you human loving scum? Now all the horror and grief your victims feel as you rip their throats open will lie inside you. Your dear sister has cursed your heart with the Empathy spell and you shall be forever able to feel what those around you feel. You’ll bear their pain for the rest of your miserable existence and it will make you weak. Everywhere you go, everything you do; you shall feel what others are experiencing. You have become unfit to rule here because of your love for the Gypsy bitch, and now all will see how pathetic you become as emotions seep into you every time you do what comes naturally.
“You’ve been cursed with the ability to experience emotions, and it is going to bring you to your knees. Now the pain of those miserable wretches you feed on will lay heavy on you for all of time and the whore you have mated will ooze her disgust and hatred of you from her soul every time you are near her. You’ve been given back your heart and I hope the shattered pieces rot from the pain.
“You had no right to forsake us and hurt Marishka, so now she shall be put in her proper place as leader of our kingdom, and you, in time, shall be but a distant memory, cast out from these castle walls at daybreak to turn to ashes in the sun when your inability to lead us is revealed to everyone you now rule."
Mikhal grit his teeth as he walked, the Mage’s bitter words ringing through the night behind him. Misery, hatred, fear and shock filled him, swirling in his gut, and squeezing his chest, until he felt he would burst. The anguish Alliana was feeling screamed in his head, damning him, and the wailing of her torment, along with the echoes of the Mage’s shouts made him crazed. He had to fight the urge to put his hands over his ears and simply break down. He wanted to shriek until his throat was raw, he wanted to run and kill to relieve the pressure building inside, he wanted to tear the Mage limb from limb and cut out his traitorous heart, but right now, he had to find his mate, for her calls were the ones that filled him with the most pain.
Before the Mage could taunt him further, Mikhal turned towards his tormentor and vamped out, howling in fury, snarling, channeling his agony into something he could get a grasp on. He raised his arms upward towards the black sky; hands balled into fists, and gazed across the darkness to where the Mage still stood. “You shall pay for this. Make no mistake. You shall pay for what you have done to me, and you will not break me. I am ruler. I am Lord, and you will not crush me.”
That said, pulling on all of his vampire strength, trying to ignore the heart that suddenly felt alive in his chest, he turned back towards the forest, scented the air for Alliana, and began to run. He ran away from those at the castle who would see him dead, and away from the demons of hell who were tormenting his very being. They simply couldn’t matter. He was running towards his love that lay dying in the cold, and none of the rest mattered. She was out there somewhere, and she needed him. She needed him now.
He ran blindly, unable to focus with the hated pain filling his heart. His feet slid in the snow as he tracked his mate, and branches whipped at his arms and face, stinging, cutting, in much the same way they had stung and cut Alliana when she’d run.
This was a fact not lost on him. He knew exactly how she’d felt, knew of her pain, her anger, how humiliated and dirty she’d thought she was, how oblivious she’d been as her bare feet turned to ice in the pure white snow, for those feelings were harbored deep inside her still. No m
atter what had become of her, the emotions he’d inflicted upon her continued to burn in her soul.
Finally, Mikhal stopped and got himself under control. He was no good to her like this. It was time to let his beast take over, he had to let his unfeeling demon have free reign. It would help block out the pain and he’d be able to find Alliana faster. Vamping out, pushing aside the unrelenting agony that refused to release his heart, Mikhal looked about and sniffed the air, yes; he was on the right course. He hadn’t strayed in his mad flight. Before him, her tiny footprints were still imprinted in the snow.
“Alliana.” The single word drove him and he went forward again, chanting the name that consumed him, using it to block out the screams of pain that were filling him with each moment that passed. He wove through the trees then heard a sound that chilled him to the bone. The stream. He was near the stream. She couldn’t be, could she?
It was then he remembered their heated battle over her baths, and he knew for certain that he would find her there. The argument and the fact that he had forced her to bathe in the tub had been such a trivial thing to him, but to Alliana, it was everything. A Gypsy woman believed that only running water would cleanse her, and because of that, his wife had come here regardless of the cold. His poor mate had felt so dirty and violated that she had plunged into the freezing depths of the water in the midst of winter, just to scrub him from her soul.
“Hold on, Alliana.” He reached the clearing and saw her then, half submerged in the icy depths of the water, lying motionless, her head supported only by the farthest bank, in peril of going under, her skin as white as the snow. His demon snarled that she was a fool, that she had put his son in danger for her stupid Gypsy ways, but the man in him cried out.
“Alliana! No, please no.” He knew she wasn’t dead. Their bond was still intact, but it was also clear that her hold on life was tenuous at best. She was hanging on by the tiniest of threads and if she weren’t warmed immediately, it would be impossible to save her.
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