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Preacher started for a moment. What was that?
Who
was that?
He distinctly heard a woman’s voice, but hadn’t…it was in his head.

“Do not be afraid, Preacher. I know all you have done, but I can see
into your heart. We are here to save Richelle. If you truly wish to help her,
then wait for word from me.”

Preacher drew a deep breath, ignoring the stench of evil and death filling his nostrils. He didn’t know the woman speaking in his mind, yet there was such purity and strength emanating from the sound, it filled the last empty hollows of his heart with hope. And trust. He would wait and help if he could.

* * * *

Nine figures materialized outside the Tower of the Red Dragon, each carrying a satchel and arsenal, except for Valya. Warily, the men crept up to the walls of the castle, watching for any of Luka’s sentinels. Selene, on the other hand, moved assuredly about the castle perimeter, eying the open windows as she worked her way toward Valya.

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“Luka has gathered his followers in the great hall to witness the
bonding.”

The mention of Luka bonding with Richelle sent a ball of fury into the pit of his stomach. Raising his head, he sniffed the air. Faint, so faint he could barely notice it, he caught Richelle’s scent. Inhaling deeply, he let her unique scent fill him, sending a powerful surge of lust to his loins as his head swam with untamed desire.

He rumbled and hunched low, preparing to spring to an upper window.

Selene grabbed his arm to stop. He turned on her like a mad dog, snarling as he grabbed her by her upper arms. Baring his fangs, he hissed menacingly.

Selene’s expression remained serene as her mind touched his.

“You must regain your senses, Valya. I know your first instinct is to
attack, but you must resist the urge to charge in like a bull in a china shop.

Stop. Think.”

Her words cut through the haze of his mind. Releasing her arms, he quelled the murderous rage within him.

“So what do we do?”
he questioned impatiently.

“We enter the castle, like ghosts, unseen. We take our vantage points
and when the moment is right, then we
attack!
”

“How will we know the moment is right?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll know. But until then, you must control your
emotions.”

Control his emotions? After centuries without them and surviving by instinct alone, he was to control emotions after a few days? He didn’t want to control them! His inborn sense of Immortal justice was joining forces with his justified wrath, and both were in total agreement to destroy those who had taken
his
woman!

“Selene is right,”
Nicolae concurred.
“We need the element of surprise
if we are to defeat Luka.”

Valya reached out into the night. The mountain air was crisp and cool, caressing his skin like a lover as the wind blew his hair. Closing his eyes, he remembered how Richelle touched him, how her fingertips danced across his skin to finger the length of his mane. It was the only time he had felt any serenity in his long, lonely existence.

And he wanted that serenity back.

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His eyes snapped open and focused on the large window on the tallest turret. Richelle was in that tower. He knew it. Like a wolf greeting his mate, he reveled in her rich scent of moonlight and lavender as it wafted about him. He grew in strength as he breathed in her scent, focusing his mind and body on the task at hand.

“We will not be alone,”
Selene announced to her warriors.
“There is
one of Luka’s followers with a change of heart. He will help.”

“Then we are ready.”
Nicolae’s voice rang in their minds, his rich timbre a rallying call to battle.

“Then let it begin!”
Valya cried, and he dematerialized.

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Luka became increasingly impatient as the evening waned on. Sipping his wine resignedly, he watched the festivities of the Feast as they unfolded before him. It had been nearly an hour since he sent Preacher to bring his forthcoming bride.
What the hell was taking him so long?
Standing abruptly, he sent his goblet crashing to the center of the dance floor, scattering the Vampyres to the safety of the shadows.

“Preacher!”
Luka bellowed as the stone walls vibrated beneath the sound of his voice. “It is nearly midnight! It is time to complete the bonding!”

Luka’s motley assemblage of sycophants came out from hiding. Their sniveling and groveling disappeared as they animatedly anticipated the evening’s promised festivities. Vampyres ran their tongues over their extended canines, awaiting the vulgar exhibition as Luka claimed his bride.

Believers quivered in sexual expectation, openly masturbating in hopes of participating in a Romanesque orgy.

Silence ensued when Preacher appeared at the top of the stairs. As still as a statue, he surveyed the scene playing out before him. His stomach roiled in revulsion at the debauchery and corruption of those gathered to witness Luka’s “victory.” He was sickened at being a willing pawn in this squalid chess game, where Richelle was the queen sought by the black-and-white kings.

He could feel a change in the night, like the smell of the air when a thunderstorm approaches. The end was near. He just wasn’t sure if it was going to be the end of Richelle, Luka, or himself. Placing his long-surrendered faith in a faceless voice from the night, he pressed forward, waiting for Luka’s fanatical command.

“Bring forth…my bride,” Luka demanded darkly as his eyes flamed.

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Preacher reluctantly motioned to three Vampyresses dressed in black carrying candelabras for light. They came forward, forming a single processional line as they came down the grand staircase, bridesmaids in this unholy ceremony, to take position along the wall. Preacher walked over and took one of the candelabras and walked to the head of the stairs. The assembly took their cue and came farther into the great hall, staring at the top of the stairs, waiting for their soon-to-be queen.

* * * *

Valya and the rest of the Immortals were hidden amongst the shadows, watching, waiting. Nicolae was troubled by the power he felt Selene exerting to keep their presence and mental conversations hidden from Luka.

Although he was distracted, caught up in his self-inflated importance and seemingly uncontested success, Luka still was a powerful Vampyre.
“Can
you continue, Selene?”

“Y-y-yes,”
she responded falteringly. She didn’t fool him. He could feel her strength waning, being sapped in her singular attempt to right the wrongs she had done. He opened himself and fortified her power with his own.

“Nicolae, no!”
Selene tried to erect shields around her mind, adamant in an effort to block Nicolae’s assistance, but he was too powerful, and she was too weak, so she tried to appeal to his sensibility.

“Please stop. You and Valya are the key to Luka’s downfall. You will
need to be at full force.”

“Take what I offer, Selene, as I offer it freely.”

“No. I am not worthy.”
Choking back her tears, Selene was sincere in her plea, but they fell on deaf ears, and she felt the renewing energy flow through her, mingled with Nicolae’s concealed emotions of pride and love.

“Take what I offer as I offer it freely,”
he repeated.

Graciously she accepted his gift, fortifying her diminishing power until she was once again at full capacity. She felt Nicolae’s mind withdraw as she reinforced the cloaking shield protecting them from Luka.

“Thank you, Nicolae.”
Selene’s gratefulness was overshadowed by her concern when she felt Nicolae wavering at the sudden loss of energy.

“Do not fear for me. We need to reach Richelle.”

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Selene silently agreed, and she mentally conveyed the vantage points each Immortal should take. Feeling Valya’s emotions beginning to rise, she tapped into his mind and constrained him before he could rush headlong into the throng below and reveal their presence.

“Release me! Richelle is near! I can reach her and take her away
before—”

“Before what?”
Nicolae interrupted. Despite how weak he was, his anger was unmistakable.
“Before Luka sets his Vampyres and followers
upon us? We are few against many and we are depending on the element of
surprise to take the upper hand in this battle.”

Valya reined in his emotions as he spied Luka below demanding his bride.
His bride!
It took every ounce of constraint he could muster to keep himself from rushing forward and ripping Luka apart with his bare hands.

Instead, he curbed his lust for revenge and infiltrated the castle, observed Luka’s actions, and waited for the right moment to lead the attack. The Immortals formed a united front as they turned their attention to the activity below.

Luka stepped forward to the foot of the staircase.
Victory is mine,
his mind raced triumphantly.
Richelle is
mine
!
He heard his chamber door close, followed by the slow and steady click…click…click echoing from the darkness. His cock pulsed steadily in expectation of his bride’s appearance, and he was not disappointed when she emerged into the flickering candlelight of the great hall.

There was a gasp of awe from the audience as Richelle stepped forward and placed her hand upon Preacher’s outstretched hand. Valya even drew a ragged breath as she was prominently displayed for all. Regardless of the significant change in her angelic appearance, he immediately recognized her—he would always recognize the other half of his heart.

She was compellingly beautiful.

No one in the castle could take their eyes off of her as she descended the staircase led by Preacher. Her hair cascaded like a waterfall from the top of the ornate crown upon her head with a teardrop ruby dangling from the widow’s peak. Her face was powdered while her lips were ruby red. Her eyes were exotic, painted with dark eye shadow, but no amount of makeup could hide her sea-green eyes.

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The shimmering blood red dress was seemingly prim in its design, with its high collar and floor-length fabric covering Richelle, but sinfully hedonistic as it clung to her every curve, revealing every sinuous move of her hips. Valya’s eyes roved over her luscious figure. The fabric lovingly hugged her breasts. His eyes fell on the cutout of her dress over her left shoulder, revealing the evidence of Luka’s two blood takings.

Valya’s vision was tainted red and he growled low in discontent at Richelle being displayed like some battle trophy.
His woman!
He growled again, deeper, louder. As he watched her descend the staircase, his fury rose, threatening to overpower his Guardian breeding of control. His hands shook as he gripped the edge of the wall, his fingers biting into the stone, crushing it to dust beneath his incensed grasp.

“Steady, Valya. It is nearly time.”

Nicolae spoke reassuringly, fortifying Valya’s resolve as he released the wall, breathing deeply to push down his rage. Selene directed the others into fighting position behind the Vampyres in the Grand Hall below, while Nicolae and Valya stayed near Richelle. Watching. Selene disappeared and reappeared in the great hall. Waiting. She would need to time her entrance perfectly if she were to create a diversion.

Valya followed Preacher closely as he led Richelle down the staircase, keeping in step with them, being sure to stay hidden by the darkness created by the candlelit procession. His need for blood and revenge was as strong as his need for Richelle’s blood. He could feel his body clamoring for its mate, but he mutely followed Selene’s lead and watched.

Selene held herself in strict equanimity despite being besieged by Valya’s wild emotions surfacing erratically, Luka’s conceited self-assurance in his conquest, Preacher’s guarded manner at entering the arena, the lustful droning of the Vampyres and the Believers, mingling with the testosterone-laden heaviness from Immortals primed for battle. The air crackled with static electricity, setting her hair on end. And then there was Richelle.

Untouched by the imminent upheaval, Richelle regally descended the staircase. Selene recalled brief glimpses of Richelle’s childhood from her short reading at the carnival— living in the mountains, romping through the meadow surrounded by her guardian wolf pack. The contrast of her idyllic upbringing versus a potentially brutal future resulting in this surreal present, which would determine the future for the entire world, boggled her mind.

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Richelle wore a blank expression as she descended the staircase, but Selene sensed that her spirit felt…troubled. With every step, it became increasingly difficult for her to breathe, each footfall becoming more and more heavy and lethargic. Staring at the handsome face of her soon-to-be husband, through the haze of confusion, she couldn’t help but feel there was something…wrong…about this situation.

Even with the gaps in her memories, she knew expectant brides were supposed to be happy, almost giddy, their hearts pitter-pattering at the realization of spending the rest of their life with the man they loved. Yet when she looked at Luka, she felt…it felt wrong. Instead of being happy, she was filled with a longing she couldn’t name and couldn’t explain.

It was as if…
he
was wrong. She still had unclear flashes of a man with dark hair and eyes. The thought of the man from her visions made her legs weak and her womb flutter. She tried to focus on her intended, but her mind kept drifting to dark eyes that looked at her with such passion she could weep from its depth and devotion. Her anxiety increased with every trepidatious step, but she found herself unwillingly following Victor’s lead, like a lamb being led to slaughter.