Her rage mounting, Retta tried to wrap herself around her husband, but she wasn't large enough to cover him from the deadly rays that made his skin blister and boil. His entire body was smoldering as he tried to make it toward the wall where there were still shadows.
He staggered at the same time Stephen and the others left the house. They were coming to finish Velkan off, but she'd be damned if they'd get to him without fighting her.
Retta stood her ground, ready to battle until she felt someone grab her from behind. She turned to strike but caught herself as she saw a friendly face.
"It's me," Francesca said as she flashed them from the garden.
One second Retta was a hair from death, and in the next she was in a room she hadn't seen in centuries…
Velkan's bedroom.
Retta's heart pounded in fear. "We can't leave him."
"We didn't."
She looked around her as Viktor flashed into the room with Velkan in tow before he sank to the floor between Andrei and Viktor. Horror filled her as she stared at what remained of him. He was bloodied and scorched. The scent of burnt hair and flesh invaded her senses, making her queasy.
But she didn't care. Terrified that he was dying, she rushed to Velkan's side and rolled him over. Tears gathered to choke her as she saw the damage done to him. "Velkan?"
He didn't speak. He merely stared at her and blinked.
Pushing her aside, Viktor and Andrei picked Velkan up from the floor and moved him to the bed:
Retta followed, wanting to help.
"You should go," Viktor said coldly as Andrei struggled to peel Velkan's shirt from the flesh that seemed to be melted to it. "You've done enough damage."
"He's my husband."
Viktor narrowed his cold blue eyes at her. "And you walked out on him five hundred years ago. Remember? Do him a favor and let history repeat itself."
"Viktor!" Francesca snarled. "How dare you."
"It's all right," Retta said, calming down her friend. "He's only doing his job."
Then Retta moved to stand beside Viktor. This time when she spoke, she lowered her voice and let her raw emotions show in every syllable. "Get in my way again, boy, and you're going to learn that Velkan isn't the only one in this family who has fangs." That said, she pushed her way past him to reach the bed where Velkan lay.
She wasn't sure if he was still conscious until she paused by his side. Her stomach shrank at the sight of his blistered and charred skin.
But it was the pain in his eyes that took her breath. In spite of the part of her that wanted to run from the horrible sight of him, she reached out and placed her hand to an undamaged part of his cheek.
He closed his eyes as if he savored her touch.
"Thank you, Velkan," she breathed.
He took a breath as if he would respond, but before he could, he passed out on the bed.
Viktor moved to stand next to her, "Are you going to just stare at him or are you going to actually help us tend him?"
She looked to Viktor, whose face bore all the rancor of his voice. "You're such an asshole, Viktor."
He opened his mouth to respond, but Francesca covered his mouth with her hand. "Lay off, little brother. They've both been through a lot today."
Curling his lip, he moved to the other side of the bed, where Andrei was still trying to get the shirt off. Retta helped him undress Velkan, but as she saw a fierce scar in the center of Velkan's chest, just over his heart, she paused. That hadn't been there when he'd been mortal. It literally looked as if someone had staked him through the heart.
"What on earth?" she said, fingering it. It was at least six inches wide and four deep. "How did this happen?"
Viktor gave her a droll stare. "Can't you handle the sight of your father's handiwork?"
She frowned at Viktor. "What are you talking about?"
"The scar," Andrei said quietly. "It's where the lance left his body after your father ordered him impaled."
Retta jerked her hand back, not wanting to believe it. "I don't find your humor funny."
"I'm not joking."
Nausea filled her as she looked back to Velkan's blistered face. Then she looked to Raluca, who nodded grimly.
"I don't understand," Retta whispered.
Raluca's eyes were kind as she explained. "After your father killed you, Princess, he viciously turned on Velkan. He tortured him for weeks until he finally had him impaled in the square at Tîrgovişte. That's how he died and was able to become a Dark-Hunter."
Still, she had a hard time believing it. Her father had loved her so much. Would he really, even in anger, have killed her? He may have hated the world, but to him, his children had always been sacred. "Why didn't Velkan tell me?"
Viktor snorted. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you ran from him when he tried and didn't stop running."
"Viktor!" Raluca snapped.
"Everyone stop 'Viktoring' me. I speak the truth that all of you are too scared to say. She ought to understand what he's gone through to keep her safe. What he suffered as a human. For. Her." Viktor turned back toward Retta. "He didn't mind his own death—he'd planned on that. It was yours that destroyed him. He'd surrendered himself to your father, knowing the bastard was going to impale him. He thought that by having you drink the sleeping potion your father would see you dressed for burial and leave you be. His plan was for my mother to take you to Germany, where Francesca was living, and to keep you safe while your father tortured him. He never dreamed your father was going to stab you in the heart while you lay dead."
That hadn't been the plan Velkan had given her. They were to lie side by side as if dead and then awaken once her father was safely gone and convinced of their deaths. Velkan was then supposed to take her to Paris, where they could be together without fear of her father's reprisal against Velkan. Free of the war that was waged between their families.
She looked to Francesca for the truth, but for once her friend was speechless. "Velkan surrendered to my father?"
"What did you think he was going to do?" Viktor asked angrily.
"He told me we would both drink the potion and that my father would see us dead, then leave us in peace."
Viktor nodded. "And you drank it first."
"Of course, and then I saw him drink it right after me."
Viktor shook his head. "He never swallowed it. Once you were unconscious, he spat it out and placed you in state for viewing. He was afraid that if you were both unconscious your father would behead both of you. So he remained conscious and told your father that you'd died of disease. Your father promised him that once he saw you, he would be content to take Velkan and leave. Velkan submitted to him and had to watch him kill you."
And she had run out on him…
Again, her gaze went to Francesca for verification. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Her gaze sad, Francesca sighed. "You didn't want to hear it. If I ever tried to take his side, you yelled at me, so I learned to drop the subject."
It was true and Retta knew it. She had no one to blame but herself.
Retta's heart ached as she thought about how many years… no, centuries she'd deprived herself and Velkan of because she'd been stupid and unforgiving. No wonder Viktor hated her. She deserved it.
Clenching her teeth, she looked up at the picture over the fireplace—the one that had been her wedding portrait. Tears gathered in her eyes as she recalled the day it'd been sketched. The sight of Velkan on the wall, watching her with nothing but adoration on his face. He'd looked like a woodland sprite come to life to stand guard over her.
She blinked away her tears before glancing back at the bed where her husband lay. "We have to get him healed."
"Why?" Viktor asked.
"So that I can apologize."
But getting Velkan healed proved to be easier said than done. The sun damage was hard for even an immortal to overcome. Not to mention they still had the threat of the Order out there wanting them dead. At least here in Velkan's home the Order couldn't get to them.