Chapter Two
Eve stared at his massive frame as she followed him, his two guards directly behind her. She didn't blame them for walking so close at her heels. After all, she had pointed a silver dagger on the king's neck.
She flicked her gaze over Drago's impressive form and admired his arrogant and confidant stride. He was over six feet by a head, his royal tunic accentuating his chiseled arms, along with his flat, trim abdomen and his long muscular legs. The man was huge and she could only imagine how ferocious he must look in his Lycan form.
She was certain he was going to shift after she had pressed the dagger to his neck, but he hadn't so much as budged. All he'd done was stare down at her with a curious mixture of shock and annoyance on his face. She stared at the back of his head. His hair was black and looked like he'd spent the better part of the morning running an agitated hand through it.
She couldn't deny he was a handsome man and it had taken all her efforts to ignore his thrilling presence. She'd almost forgotten she wasn't human and had actually felt something. She pushed her disturbing thoughts away and glared at his back. Hadn't he called her a vile creature? That was hardly a comment from a man who found a woman attractive.
Drago stopped and turned around. "Katya's chamber is at the end of this corridor."
Abruptly, he turned away and strode down the hall before she could say a word. Eve scrunched her lips, trying to ignore the thick energy between them. She'd sensed it the moment she'd greeted him at the door.
Lycans were mating predators and she was starting to feel the effect of his beast's energy. She couldn't wait to take Katya and get the hell out of here.
She scowled. A mere gaze from his black eyes was all it took to produce nervous flutters in her stomach. She'd never felt this powerful attraction for any of the lovers she had taken the past four hundred years, not even for Caleb. At the thought of Katya's father, she immediately sobered.
He was a kind and gentle man who died too soon.
She inhaled slowly, knowing he was better off dead than living her hellish existence.
Drago stopped in front of a massive door and she pushed her disturbing thoughts aside. The royal guard standing next to the door opened it and the king stepped aside for Eve to pass. She gave the guard a cold look and then raised a brow at Drago. His mouth tensed. Satisfied that she had made her silent point that her daughter was more prisoner than guest, she walked into the room and looked around. She grimaced with pain as she stepped into a beam of sunlight. She snatched her seared hand back into the shadows and groaned.
"Can you…can you close the drapes?" she asked Drago. The agonizing throb on her thumb ebbed and she gritted her teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. Dammit, why wasn't she more careful? She had to pay more attention to her surroundings.
His dark gaze dropped to her hand and he strode to the windows and dragged the thick drapes together. Then he went to the dresser and lit the brass candelabra.
With grim determination on his face, he strode to her side and took her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. She held her breath, staring up at him. He inspected the small scar forming on her thumb and she saw something wild leap at the back of his eyes.
"Will it go away?" he asked roughly.
"No. Vampires are severely allergic to the sun. We scar forever. And if our entire body is in direct sunlight for a lengthy period of time, we…" she paused, "burn."
A sound from the corner of the room drew her attention and she gasped, watching her daughter coming out of an adjoining chamber. Her scar completely forgotten, she stared at Katya and froze.
She looked terrible! Not the lovely beauty Eve remembered, but a gaunt woman with dark circles under hollow eyes and listless, long brown hair. Eve's heart thudded in her breast. Dear God, what happened to her child!
Katya muttered beneath her breath. "Dammit! Get off me!" She brought her hands up and dragged her nails along her cheeks and neck, leaving long, red scratches.
Eve let out a strangled sob and rushed to her side. "No!"
Her daughter turned and stared at her. "Who are you?"
Eve froze. There was no recognition in Katya's eyes and for the first time Eve was frightened. She saw the scratches on Katya's neck and face fade and she swallowed hard. "It's me, your mother. Dear God, what's happened to you," she said shakily. "Oh my God! My baby."
"My mother is dead. Is this a joke?" Katya threw Drago a dark look. "What are you up to?"
Eve snapped her gaze to Drago, but he wasn't looking at Katya. He was looking at her. "It appears you have a problem," he said quietly.
Her eyes burned with tears and she stiffened at the brief flash of pity she saw on his face. Angrily, she brought her hand up to her face and wiped an errant tear.
She turned to her daughter. "No, I don't have a problem," she said firmly. "I haven't spent two years looking for her to give up now." She gritted her teeth. She knew what she had to do and she wasn't looking forward to it. Going into another's mind was exhausting. Worse, she hated it because she was violating them.
Yet, in this instance, she had no choice. She had to see for herself what was going on in Katya's mind. Faster than a bolt of lightning streaking the sky, she sprung to her daughter and grabbed her face. Katya growled, her eyes turning amber and Eve knew she was beginning to shift, but it was too late. Eve had already locked into her mind and had sedated her before she could shift. She heard Drago suck in a harsh breath.
"Your Highness, how does she do that?" the guard standing by the door asked. "I've never seen anyone move so fast."
"Quiet," Drago ordered. "And stand guard! Her speed is no match for Katya's strength, so be prepared to attack if Katya shifts."
Eve wanted to tell him her daughter was under too deep of a trance to even bat an eye, but she refrained. She needed to concentrate and dig past the mayhem she was encountering in Katya's mind.
She saw images dancing in her mind's eye--all of herself in her daughter's memories-- embracing Katya, playing with her, brushing her hair, kissing her goodnight. She also observed other images of Eve teaching Katya the art of combat, showing her how to wield a sword and how to use a bow and arrow.
Eve's eyes stung with tears, but she kept on, pressing further into her daughter's mind as she remembered the night Balkathan's army attacked them.
Their village never stood a chance. Eve swallowed hard, ignoring the searing pain in her head as the memory resurfaced.
She told Katya she wouldn't be long as she went into the nearby woods to feed, but by the time she'd returned, she'd seen the bloody aftermath of Balkathan's attack. Villagers lay dead with their throats torn while all the houses burned with raging fires. A few remaining Lycans stayed behind, destroying what was left of the village and she attacked them as her heart raced with real fear.
Where was Katya?
The five remaining Lycans had been no match for her. She was a four-hundred-year-old vampire who had survived many wars, had fought many battles. She threatened the last surviving Lycan with a slow painful death if he didn't tell her where Balkathan had taken his prisoners.
The Lycan had laughed cruelly. "It's too late, demon bitch. All the prisoners have been turned. The men are going to his army barracks and the women will serve in his harem."
Before he could say another word, Eve had plunged her silver dagger into his chest. She searched for Katya frantically that night, amidst the debris and smoke and dead bodies, but couldn't find her.
Despair and fear filled her as she realised her daughter was one of the prisoners. Her daughter's beauty was unmatched and Eve realised with dread only a fool wouldn't place her in his harem--and Balkathan was no fool.
Eve inhaled sharply, opening her eyes as she stared at Katya's serene expression. She closed her eyes again and went deeper into her daughter's mind. She saw the suffering her daughter had endured in Balkathan's lair--the torture, the repeated rapes from Balkathan's wolves. Eve felt sick and dug deeper to see if Balkathan had raped her daughter. He hadn't. She almost sagged with relief.