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Atar
hadn’t known what to expect when the queen of Corsova summoned him. He
wouldn’t have been surprised if the guard escorting him led him into
an archaic throne room. He certainly hadn’t expected the sentry to
lead him into the private chambers of the king and queen. Nor had he
anticipated her serving him tea in the sitting room. He
held the delicate cup in his large hand while he watched the queen
through the veil of his lashes. His gaze occasionally darted to the
protector’s lifemate, whose gaze never wavered from Anca. He liked
that about Demi Golina, who had once been a commoner, as was Atar,
though Demi had always belonged in Corsova, while Atar didn’t. “Thank you for coming.” She
held her cup without sipping from it. “Petru, the Chief of Security
here at the castle, recommended we call on you.” His colorless eyes narrowed at the
mention of Petru’s name, a man with whom he was vaguely acquainted.
“I have little to offer the royal family.” “Not true,” Demi said.
“We’ve heard your kind is adept at tracking.” He shrugged. “The Makheet race
has a way with such tasks, but I’m not a tracker. I live my days in
solitude in the Bulgain Mountains.” A small smile flashed across his
chiseled lips when he remembered how bitterly the party searching for
him had complained when finding him. They had gotten lost for two days
in the mountains, and the group included two werewolves. “I don’t
see how I can help you.” “Please.” There was a trace of
pleading in Anca’s voice. “We need your assistance, Atar.” He leaned forward from the
wingchair to return his full cup to the tray on the table.
“Really—“ “It’s not just for us,” Demi
said. “You might be saving our entire way of life, and several human
lives in the process.” He
quirked a brow. “How so?” The queen turned her cup on the
saucer, but still didn’t lift it. “Few people know the whole story
of what happened two years ago, when I took the Blood Oath.” Atar nodded. “My half-sister tried to take the
Oath in my place. Nikia nearly died, ending up in a coma. There are no
long-term care facilities here in Corsova that were equipped to deal
with her situation, so we sent her to Constanta…” Anca trailed off, He waited for half a minute for the
queen to continue before saying, “What does this have to do with
me?” “She woke up,” Demi said.
“She escaped a high-security facility.” “She’ll be coming for me,”
Anca added. “She believes the throne should be hers.” He shrugged. “Why not wait for
her to come to you and lay a trap for her?” Demi’s brow furrowed. “She
could do much damage during the time she’s free. We’re concerned
about her killing humans. Not just because of the bloodshed, though that
worries us. We’re afraid human authorities might apprehend her. If the
world finds out about vampires, our haven would cease to be.” Atar winced at Demi’s subtle
warning. Oh, yes, the man had obviously taken the time to learn about
him before they summoned Atar to Castle Draganescu. Losing his sanctuary
in Corsova was the only thing that could motivate him to take on this
obligation. “What should I do with her when I find her?” Anca and Demi traded a look. The
queen’s shoulders bowed. “Bring her back alive, if you can. If you
can’t…” He nodded once and got to his feet.
“I’ll deal with her, but in return, I want your assurance you’ll
never send for me again. I have no desire to be the solution to similar
problems.” Anca frowned. “Petru said
you’ve done this before.” Atar
nodded. “I assisted your grandfather once. When I was a youngling, I
learned all I’ll ever want to know about imperial service during the
reign of Charlemagne.” Anca’s eyes widened. “But that
was twelve hundred years ago!” Atar nodded. “Makheet are
long-lived. All I ask is to spend the remainder of my centuries in
peace.” “If you do this for us, you’ll
be assured a place with solitude in Corsova for the rest of your
life.” “You seem confident,” Demi
added, scowling. “How can you be sure you’ll find her?” “I have my ways. Do you want a
breakdown of them, or do you want me to find Nikia before she kills
someone?” Anca stood up. “Please find her
as quickly as you can.” He nodded. “I’ll leave tonight
on the last train. I’ll have her in my custody by tomorrow night.”
How difficult could it be to track down a lone vampire? Once he merged
with her, it would all be over for Nikia. “I’ll need to know
everything you know about her—where she was held, how she escaped,
where she’s likely to go next.” He waited for the queen to send for
Petru, grimacing at the inconvenience. He didn’t relish tracking this
fugitive, but it was worth a few days’ bother to assure his solitude
in the future. He would deal with her quickly, bring her back to Corsova
to face the queen, and return to the mountains alone. That was how he
liked it. * * * * * Nikia
pushed her way through the crowd gathered in the large warehouse
converted to a dance club. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled,
and she swore eyes followed her. She’d had that sensation for the past
three days, since escaping the hospital, but it had intensified tonight.
Before, the sensation had come more from paranoia without proof, but now
it had sharpened. Her senses were warning her. She didn’t doubt someone was
following her. As soon as Anca had learned of her escape, she would have
sent others to apprehend her. They wouldn’t be a large force, because
her sister wouldn’t want to draw attention. The size didn’t matter,
because in her weakened state, one or two vampires or werewolves might
be more than she could deal with. She
hugged herself, burrowing deeper into the oversized men’s denim jacket
as she slipped along the edges of the crowd. A speaker nearby thundered
techno music, contributing to the constant headache she’d had since
awakening three days ago. Someone jostled her, and she whipped around,
seeking the source of attack. When she realized it was a drunken idiot,
she slumped and continued on, searching for an exit out the back. Two streets ago, when she’d sworn
she heard the scrape of footsteps behind her on the cobblestone avenue,
Nikia had ducked down the nearest alley, following a twisting series of
streets, before reemerging in an industrial section. The only signs of
life came from the club, and she had gone in out of desperation. In retrospect, it hadn’t been a
wise decision. The people following her must surely have realized she
was inside. Even now, they were probably moving among the crowd like
silent shadows, seeking her out. She moved past the most crowded
area and saw a hallway to the right. She turned sharply, ignoring the
couples making out along the corridor. She saw three doors at the end of
the hallway, and she increased her pace. Two of the doors were restrooms,
but the third was a way out. She could have sobbed when she saw the
shiny padlock barring exit. If she gathered her strength, she might be
able to tear it away, but someone was bound to notice. It would get the
attention of those following her, leaving her trapped in the hallway. She shivered at the thought,
speculating about what awaited her in Corsova. Life imprisoned in the
tower would probably be the least she could expect. She wouldn’t be
surprised to learn Anca had ordered a death sentence. Tears pricked the back of her eyes,
and she wiped them away with the sleeve of the jacket. It wasn’t fair
that she might be facing a death sentence when she was finally getting
the chance to live, but crying wouldn’t change anything. She didn’t
have time to mope about her circumstances right now. She glanced behind her and froze
when she saw a tall man with long hair step into the hallway. He wore a
similar leather outfit to those favored by most of the other patrons,
but there was something different about him. He didn’t fit in with
this crowd any more than she did in the cotton trousers and denim jacket
she had stolen on her way out of the hospital. Her gaze darted down the hallway
before returning to the doors. She ducked into the ladies’ room,
praying for a roomy window, or at least a few minutes to think things
through. She was disappointed to find it was
a communal bathroom with stalls. There was no way to lock the main door.
Nikia hurried through the restroom, checking the cubicles. She saw feet
in three, but the other four remained unoccupied. Next, she examined the windows,
finding just one. It was so far out of reach, she couldn’t possibly
get to it. If she could manage to reach it, the window was too small to
squeeze through, even though she had lost her generous curves during the
two years she had been in a coma. She stiffened when the main door
opened behind her. Nikia whirled around to confront the person entering.
Her shoulders sagged with relief when she saw it was an unfamiliar woman
in leather pants and a loose vest. She was tall, with long, dirty-blond
hair, and strange eyes that lacked any pigment. She didn’t pay any
attention to Nikia as she walked to the sink. Nikia returned her attention to the
problem of escaping the bathroom, eyeing the window again. Reluctantly,
she accepted there was no way out of the room. She could lock herself in
a stall and wait for them to come get her, or surrender. She twirled a lock of her short
hair, toying with the idea of bursting from the bathroom and slamming
through the door barring her exit. If she moved quickly enough, she
could tear off the lock and run away before they had a chance to get
hold of her. If she could muster enough
strength. Nikia sighed, feeling a sense of weakness in her entire body.
She must have received physical therapy during her coma, or she
wouldn’t have been able to walk at all, but she was in no condition to
be breaking through doors. Until she had a chance to feed, her strength
would remain tenuous at best. She jumped with fright when someone
touched her arm. Nikia started to turn, but the person behind her moved
faster, snagging both of her arms and pulling them behind her back. They
held her wrists together. She felt the cold steel of a handcuff bite
into one and screamed. Nikia kicked her legs and tried to dislodge the
person holding her, but he or she cuffed her other hand before releasing
her. She turned around and backed away
from him. Her eyes widened when she saw the same man from the hallway.
She looked around for the woman who had entered, but she wasn’t in
sight. Nikia’s eyes narrowed when she realized this man had the same
shade of hair, clear eyes, and almost identical garments. How could that
be? “Nikia Draganescu,” his voice
was rich and deep, with an accent she couldn’t place, “I’m here to
return you to Corsova. Will you come quietly?” Nikia bowed her head when a fierce
pain shot through it. She gritted her teeth, struggling to block out the
commands of Illiana that urged her to strike out at the man. She bit her
tongue, hoping that small pain would help her withstand the pain in her
head. The agony still thundered over her in waves, making her scream.
She fell to her knees without realizing it. As the man walked forward and
lifted her over his shoulder, she was barely aware of his touch.
“No,” she screamed, as Illiana’s voice echoed in her head. She
wouldn’t give in to it, even long enough to get away. She knew if she
lost herself in Illiana again, she would never return. Nikia sought escape in
unconsciousness, willing herself to sleep. She didn’t know what to
expect when she returned, but she couldn’t let Illiana win, even if it
meant she ended up back in Corsova, facing death.
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