Microsoft Word - 1606017438-Of-Night-and-Desire-Bailey.doc (46 page)

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, she stared at Luka’s outstretched hand. Slowly, she removed her hand from Victor’s to place it in Luka’s, but then she stopped, pulling it back haltingly as she debated what to do. Luka’s expression turned intense, and he raised his hand a bit higher. She stared at his open palm, but she could not bring herself to accept his gesture.

Overcome by an inescapable fear, she took a step back, preparing to turn and run up the stairs.

Sensing her panic, he took a step forward and used his mind to control Richelle, forcing her to stop. He probed deeper into her mind, commanding her to take her hand. A bead of perspiration formed on his brow as he met the challenge of Richelle’s will resisting him. Her own brow furrowed, refusing to surrender, while her mind reached out to seek assistance.

Nicolae was the first to feel Richelle’s power reaching out for help. He was buoyant that she was able to fend off Luka’s power, but his hopefulness turned to alarm as Valya was straining to respond to her cry for help. Acting quickly, Nicolae encompassed Valya in a force field to prevent him from rushing in and revealing their positions. Valya struggled in vain, but it took almost every ounce of power to restrain him.

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303

His mind reached out to calm Valya but to no avail, so he turned his attention to Richelle instead. If he couldn’t put out the fire, he would stop the one fanning the flames.

“Be at ease, Richelle. We have arrived.”

Richelle stilled and listened to the rich, melodic tones of a voice speaking to her mind. Although she did not recognize the voice, it felt…familiar. Still not the
rightness
she hungered for, but more secure, safer than she felt in Luka’s presence. With the gaps in her memory, she had to rely on her emotions and instinct, and with every fiber in her being, she sensed this marriage was wrong. She needed to escape.

“Help me, please.”

“We will help but you must trust in us.”

The sound of his voice, the strength in his words filled her with a positive energy erasing all her fears. She inherently did trust him.

“What must I do?”

“Take Luka’s hand.”

“No!”
Fear gripped at her throat. Maybe she was a little hasty in her decision to trust him. The more she thought on it, the more she believed Luka was…there was no other word for it…
evil.

“Trust in us. We will not let Luka harm you.”

Slowly, he began to release Valya from his constraints, giving Richelle his trust that she would comply with his wishes. Valya did not dare speak as he stalked his bride.
When this is over,
he thought heatedly,
I am going to
kill Nicolae.
Nicolae was steadfast despite Valya’s mental outburst, watching for Richelle’s response to his plea for trust.

Richelle hesitated, weighing his words before meeting Luka’s gaze, as she gave the appearance of compliance and smiled warmly at him. Luka’s superior grin when she took his hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor of the great hall made her stomach roil in repulsion. Making a wide sweep, he paraded Richelle before his obsequious underlings, showing off the spoils of his conquest.

“Behold, my bride!” he announced victoriously.

“The time has come,”
Selene announced to the Immortals.
“Be ready.”

She walked slowly from the shadows, lowering her shields as she approached Luka. He turned and sneered at her. “Welcome,
Mother.
So nice of you to join us on this, my wedding day.”

304

Mia Bailey

A wave of protectiveness washed over her. Despite all he had done, what he was planning to do…he was still her son. And what he had become was her fault. Her bitterness and anger at Nicolae for his refusal had denied Luka his mother, and her a son. For both their sakes and for what could have been, she had to beseech him this last time.

“Please, Luka. Forget this vendetta. Forgive me, forget your hatred, and embrace peace.”

Luka laughed haughtily, his minions joining in until the raucous laughter filled the hall with an intimidating thrumming. With a wave of his hand, the laughter was cut short, and he walked over to stand before her with his bride in hand.

“Forgive and embrace peace,
Mother?
And how would you suggest I do that? Should I give you a kiss? Forgive Nicolae for his treatment of you?

Embrace peace by facing the Dawn? You are a fool! I stand upon the threshold of victory as the midnight hour approaches, and you want me to throw it all away on the obsolete beliefs of a dying race and the delusion of love?”

Selene kept her voice soft, pleading her case.

“Nicolae did no wrong. I had no right to do what I did—try to trick him into bonding. The Triad was right in sending me to exile. Everything I suffered was because of my own actions.”

“No! They had no right! Sanctimonious prigs all of them with their holier-than-thou attitudes.”

“They are protecting the Immortal teachings to give a sense of heritage and purpose—to protect mankind from evil.”

“What gives them the authority to tell us how to spend our existence?

What gives them the right to pass judgment on others?”

“They are Immortals. It is their duty.”

“Fuck duty!” Luka became red-faced, tightening his grip on Richelle’s hand. She grimaced in pain but remained silent. “All my life, I had to watch the Immortals from afar, spouting their Ethics Code and duty to protect
mortals
. Nicolae, that self-righteous hypocrite, cast you out to pursue an idealistic notion of a life mate. Well, I defy that notion!”

He grabbed Richelle by the arm and shoved her in front of Selene.

Richelle stifled a surprised gasp as she recognized the woman—the tarot reader from the carnival.
Madame Selene!
Selene mentally cautioned

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Richelle to remain silent. It was difficult, as Luka’s fingernails had grown and were biting into her skin through the skin fabric of her gown. “You see
this!
The woman from the prophecy, the key to my supremacy over the world!
My
bride, not the destined mate of Nicolae’s favorite Guardian, Valya, but
my bride!
Do you hear?
My bride!
”

Luka whirled Richelle around, dragging her to the middle of the great hall. Standing in the middle of the room he raised his arms overhead, strutting around Richelle like a peacock.

“Hear me!” he bellowed into the night, mentally casting his commands thousands of miles to the mountain home of the Immortals. “I welcome you to witness the bonding ritual of Richelle Sommers to Luka cel Rau, master of Tower of Red Dragon.”

Richelle’s stomach lurched but she stood fast, unwilling to let Luka know the idea of him touching her, of being his wife sickened her. At first, standing in the center of the room being gawked at, she felt a little shaky, but then she felt a warmth, as if someone had wrapped her in a blanket.

As Luka continued his condescending proclamation, Richelle sensed another presence—stronger, imposing, more…dominant.

“Remember me,
mio dusa
, for you are mine.”

Richelle raised her hand to clutch her throat.
I know that voice.
Her legs trembled as his husky voice touched something deep within her, making her feel all shivery.
This is how a bride should feel
, she affirmed and in that moment she knew. That voice… He was the dark-eyed man from her dreams. She was meant to be
his
bride.

“You are mine.”

She listened as he mentally conveyed his love with his elegant and courtly words of devotion, the underlying passion sparking a flame within her that had been all but extinguished with her arrival at Red Dragon.

Madame Selene was here. So was her mysterious lover.
Were there others?

She reached out and sensed the presence of several others, all focused, determined, and prepared for battle.

And so was she.

Ignoring Luka’s narcissistic oration, Richelle focused her will to communicate with Madame Selene and the mounting presence of justice entering her unguarded mind. Following her growing confidence, she welcomed the presence without hesitation or regrets.

306

Mia Bailey

“Madame
Selene!”

“Yes, my dear child. It is I…and I brought help.”

“I know,”
she acknowledged.
“I feel them. I feel…him.”

“Feel…who?”
Selene knew who Richelle was referring to, but
Richelle
had to freely choose him to complete the bonding ritual—she had to remember and say his name.
“Him…I can’t remember his name but I know
him.”

“Think, Richelle…who?”

“The man from my dreams. The dark warrior. My…my…”
Richelle grasped for the right word for her faceless dream man. In a flash, it came to her.
“My Guardian…Valya.”

Hearing her call, Valya growled and his chest puffed in satisfaction.

Selene was right. Richelle
did
recognize him. Dangerously close to rushing forward and destroying all who stood between him and his bride, he wanted to complete the ritual that he had irrationally delayed in his shame and stubbornness. But instead, he closed his eyes and astrally projected himself to her side.

“I am Valya. I am with you. You are mine.”

Richelle gasped in astonishment as she felt his arms wrap around her.

Feeling his spirit holding her in his arms and then flowing through her, filling her mind and body in a tender caress that could not be seen, only felt, she sighed in pleasure. The shattered bits of her memory and fractured segments of her soul melded together.

“Valya. Valya.”

Over and over again, she said his name as he cocooned her in a warmth and love, in heat and passion. How could she have ever doubted, how could she ever believed she belonged to another? Linking her mind with his, their spirits became one. His joy and elation became hers as their souls communed, a blissful reunion. She felt her spirit rising, rising, rising higher, about to leave her body to join Valya when she was ripped away by a vicious pull on her arm, wrenching her back to reality.

“And so I present the future mistress of Tower of the Red Dragon!”

“Please, Luka!” Selene rushed forward

Luka turned up his nose at her debasing supplication. “
Begging
? Hardly the behavior one would expect from the mother of the master of the world.”

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307

“Luka, for your sake as well as mine, stop this madness! Release Richelle.”

“Silence! I will hear no more of your pleas! Accept my decree and remain! Refuse and die!”

Selene sighed in defeat. Nothing would deter Luka from his path of destruction. Hanging her head in feigned obedience, she walked toward his throne and stood at the base of the steps in the appearance of acceptance.

In triumph, Luka paraded Richelle in a wide circle amidst the cheering of his followers before he led her to his throne. Looking ahead, she was bathed in a cold sweat as she spied Pieter standing to the right of the throne.

He was dressed in black leather pants and jacket over a black t-shirt with a goblet in hand as Victor…
no, not Victor
…as Preacher came up and stood a step behind Pieter.

Her eyes grew wide as she was towed ever nearer. The recovered memory of his face covered in Jonathon’s blood was a dagger in her heart.

Dragging her feet, she tried to slow Luka’s pace. He yanked harder until they stood before the throne, where Pieter stepped down to stand on her left.

She felt faint standing between Luka and Pieter, each taking an arm as Preacher came forward with a worn Bible in his hands. Disgraced and humiliated, Preacher opened the Bible and, in a final irony, prepared to give the rite of holy matrimony. His sorrowful eyes met hers, expressing his repentance for his actions.

Casting a sideways glance to Selene, she looked for a hint of what to do.

Selene gave a curt nod as the Immortals closed in, taking their strategic positions, bottling the Vampyres and Believers in the center of the great hall with no means to escape.

“Luka cel Rau, master of Tower of the Red Dragon, has found his bride!” Preacher proclaimed the empty words. “We are here to bear witness to the bonding ritual and welcome the birth of a new order!”

Not bloody likely!
Valya seethed, advancing, his sword in hand, his grip tightening on the hilt. He motioned to Nicolae. They both disappeared to rematerialize on the alcove overlooking the throne, hidden behind the draperies.

“Luka cel Rau, this be your bride. Will you take her as your mate, taking her life and power into your keep for all eternity?”

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Mia Bailey

“I will take her.” No declaration of love or respect, no giving, only taking. Richelle squelched her need to retch.

“Richelle Sommers, this be your master. Will you accept him as your mate, to bear his children and obey his commands for all eternity?” Richelle opened her mouth to refuse, but not a sound came out. Her mind was screaming
no,
but she couldn’t utter the word. She looked at Luka. His head lowered as he focused his gaze upon her. He was preventing her from saying
no.

“She is speechless,” she heard Pieter state, and she whirled to look at him. “Continue with the ceremony.”

“I cannot,” Preacher stated with a condescending smile. “You know as well as I, she must
accept
him as her life mate. She must
say
the words, otherwise they are not truly bonded.”

Luka grabbed her by the shoulders, his nails biting into her skin through the dress. She felt them puncturing her skin, and she threw her head back in pain. His angelic features had morphed into a horrifying gargoyle-like image, his eyes ablaze with hatred as his canines elongated. His putrid breath filled her nostrils as he lowered his face to hers and heatedly issued his command.