The Alpha's Mate and the Vampire King
The Alpha’s Mate and the Vampire King Chapter 22

Viktor ported straight to the kitchens. He’d expected a flourish of activity, but the area was calm. Bianca sat at a large table covered in a variety of dishes.

She stood the second she saw him, wiping her hands down the front of her dress. It was a nervous trait she’d never shown before.

Viktor’s eyes darted to just above her cleavage, half expecting to see a black brand. Or maybe it was hope? Treason carried penalty of death, which would unquestionably solve all of his current problems.

He cursed himself for such foolishness. He’d seen that skin a thousand times. Nothing blemished her skin. She was virtually flawless—physically, that was.

Come, he commanded, holding out his hand.

Bianca blanched. Viktor hadn’t sought her out since she’d returned to Castra Nocte. The only contact they’d had was the night she’d stupidly gone to his balcony and then again, briefly, when she’d asked to speak with him at court.

He’d only learned of her meetings today after a guard alerted him upon his return from the forest.

Schooling her surprise, she rounded the table and lifted her hand to grab his. She’d barely touched him when he ported them to her rooms.

As soon as they landed he jerked his palm from her grasp. Viktor did not want to touch her any more than he had to.

I’m guessing you didn’t come to taste the food, she commented dryly.

Sit. Viktor pointed to the chair next to her dressing table.

I think I’ll stand, unless … she nodded to the bed.

I am not in the mood for your games, female, he snarled.

Very well.

Bianca lowered to the chair and crossed her arms. Viktor was in a mood. He was never cheerful, but he could usually be pacified with s*x. His sieva had ruined that for Bianca.

She wished she could say her poor reaction was due to jealousy. On some level, it was. Mainly, Bianca was terrified Viktor intended to force her to leave the safety of Castra Nocte. Without his protection, what would she do?

Release me from the contract, Bianca. Name your price and you’ll have it. But release me.

She inhaled sharply, her features hardening. Swallowing, she dared to defy The Heartless King.

No, she spoke softly, but with conviction. You know I cannot. I am not the one who created the agreement.

You can and you damned well know it. Dmitri loved you. He gave you an out.

Only if I did not want you. So long as I do, I’m just as bound to this as you are.

Viktor’s mask slipped. He knew she would refuse. However, he never believed she actually wanted him, only the title he could offer her.

Do not look so surprised, Viktor. It doesn’t suit you.

“I have my sieva. We are bonded. How could you possibly want someone who could never have interest in you? We will never live as man and wife. Never. All you would get from this is a title.”

A humorless laugh escaped her lips.

You think I only ever wanted to be Queen?

Don’t you?

Of course I do! But you are very foolish if you think you’re not the reason I … her voice trailed off, unable to finish.

The reason you what?

It doesn’t matter.

She knew he’d never feel the same, but Bianca didn’t care. He offered her a safe place to live. The marriage would give her a position of power, of control. It was the one thing she would never willingly relinquish. She refused to ever be vulnerable again.

Last chance, Bianca. Give me what I want or I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.

Seconds ticked by slowly. Bianca bore his glower, feeling thousands of tiny daggers stab the back of her eyes. She’d never let it show, but she did care for him. It wasn’t love, but it was something.

I—I cannot, she finally responded.

Then you leave me no choice.

Viktor … She wanted to ask him what he meant. She was too afraid of his response to follow through.

You are to remain in your rooms the rest of the day.

Gorlind is coming today.

“He can attend to you in your rooms. Better yet, send him away. I’ll never see you in that dress. Never.”

With his final declaration, Viktor ported out of her room. If he’d stayed but a second longer, he’d have seen the cracks in her icy demeanor break wide open.

You were right, Mariana, Castra Nocte is a marvel. Truly, Eden stated.

Yuri’s mate beamed proudly and continued chattering away as they headed towards the throne room.

Luka had led the trio around the castle and allowed Mariana to show off her knowledge of history. It was a fortress decorated in antiquity.

Priceless vases and urns lined the halls. The weapons room was a museum of sorts, where long-outdated armaments were hung in neat rows, gathering dust.

Eden had been especially impressed with the enormous tapestries in the main hall, telling stories of battles and wars fought over the millennia. Some were the only archives remaining after a fire had wiped out a large part of the library centuries ago.

She now understood Viktor’s reluctance to allow Eden to use her powers inside. Fire was her favorite power, and it was the easiest to wield. It also scared a lot of people. She should probably tell him she could also control other elements.

It was hard being forthcoming with such information after a lifetime of being forced to keep it hidden. Eden knew her father’s concern was warranted, but hiding it was starting to feel like she was lying.

She doubted Viktor would be upset. It’s not like he set aside a lot of time for conversation when they were together. It wasn’t an excuse, per se, she was just easily distracted by the male.

It had only been hours since Viktor left the dining room and Eden was once again pining for his touch. He might not return until tomorrow, so she needed to focus on something else.

Eden watched Luka open the doors to the throne room. From behind, the two males were almost identical. She forced her attention to the room they were entering, wondering what she would learn from Mariana.

It’s beautiful, is it not? Mariana sighed.

It is. Viktor brought me here once before.

Yes, I remember it well. Wonderful first meeting, Luka added sarcastically.

Not my fault, Eden countered.

Luka’s shoulders shook as he bit his l*p. He really did like his brother’s little mate.

It’s known for its windows. The stained glass took years to create, Mariana informed Eden, changing the subject.

The three of them walked closer to the far wall. The sun was low in the sky, bringing out the darker hues of orange and red in the glass. The prismatic effect spread across the shining floors, making the room look like it had been set aflame.

Why fire? Eden questioned.

It’s one of the few things than can kill us, yet we do not fear it as we should. Something in the Prajna make-up is intrigued by the flame, Luka replied.

Why put it here, as décor in the throne room? It seems … I don’t know, like a reminder of your weakness. This is a room where the Prajna must stand strong.

Luka looked to Mariana who sighed dreamily. She’d always loved this part of Castra Nocte.

We’re not sure, she told Eden. I always thought it was because these were the only colors the glass makers could manage all those years ago.

Luka snorted. “Perhaps. I see it more as a poetic show of strength and courage. It’s saying, Here we are, surrounded by flames, and yet we continue on our path.”

I like that assessment, Mariana complemented Luka. It’s much better than my guess.

Luka dipped his chin bashfully, making him look far younger than he was. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked towards the dais.

I used to despise coming in here, when my father was king. Viktor and I used to pretend the flames were real and they’d eventually crawl up the steps and destroy him.

He scratched at his head, ghosts of his past dancing across his mind. “In the end, I guess we were the flames.”

Eden tried to keep the pity out of her eyes. She’d never experienced such depravity as Luka and Viktor must have. Nikolai was a monster.

You and Viktor did what was necessary, Luka, Mariana contended. When you were old enough and knew things could not continue, you saved Prajna from a wicked man.

“We did not do it alone. Others were not as lucky to live long enough to see it through.

He opened his palm and ran his finger along the edges of his cicatrice. His had an irregular shape. It was serrated, somewhat similar to a lightning bolt. Or, it had been.

Nikolai had purposefully defaced it by forcing Luka to hold the wrong end of a blade. He’d splayed it open and refused to allow Luka to seek the healer. His father had laughed maniacally, taunting him by saying Luka would never replace the match.

Sometimes I wonder if it was worth the price, he mused remorsefully.

Dmitri’s death. The lack of sievas. No live births. It was a hefty fine to pay. Luka didn’t regret assisting Viktor in usurping the throne. It didn’t mean he rejoiced in it either. Patricide was a ghastly deed, no matter the circumstances.

Eden moved close to Luka and put a hand on his shoulder.

I’d like to think you were the flames, as well, she said. After a fire, everything is blackened. Charred. Lifeless. However, under all the devastation, under the ash and ruins, life blooms anew. It might only be the tiniest of seeds, but it can grow and thrive. A life that would never have stood out among the invasive weeds had the fire not extinguished what should never have been allowed to take root.

She held up her palm, showing her crescent-shaped birthmark. It’s taken a century, but this might be the start. Let us have hope, Luka. Without it, life becomes inundated with weeds.

Luka’s mouth twisted. You’ll not allow me to wallow, will you?

No. It’s not in my nature to put up with such nonsense.

Mariana giggled, enjoying how easily Eden pulled Luka out of his forlorn reverie. The Prajna simply did not speak to the royals like this. Eden was special.

Well, I for one … Mariana began when a commotion of voices echoed into the room. Three heads swung towards the opened doors.

She’s kept me waiting for hours. I’ll not be blamed for the disaster this dress shall become! a male voice boomed.

Stay here, Luka ordered and jogged towards the entryway. Just outside was a good-sized space where people typically congregated while waiting to enter the throne room.

Eden followed and Mariana grabbed at her arm.

We should stay in here, she firmly suggested.

I’m not leaving. I just wanted to see what was going on. It sounds like some male crying over a dress.

Then we really should stay put. I’m serious, Eden. You shouldn’t follow Luka.

Eden’s eyes narrowed at her friend’s reproach. Her head twisted towards the door. She could see Luka and two others arguing quietly. She wrote off Mariana’s suggestion and strode towards the doors.

One of the men was rather portly, waving a b***d-red dress around in both hands. His face was ruddy, giving him an even angrier appearance. The thick leather belt around his large midsection contained a variety of scissors, threads, and other tools for sewing.

The other two, Luka and a palace guard, had their hands up in a placating manner, but the dressmaker was having none of it.

Please don’t go out there, Mariana implored, tugging on Eden’s hand.

He’s not going to sew me to death. Calm yourself, Eden reprimanded, deciding not to leave the doorway since Mariana was getting so worked up. The female’s grip tightened.

Tis the Queen’s dress. I’ve not finished it because it needs a final fitting. She was to meet me here and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of that female. How can I finish this before the ceremony if she’ll not give me the time of day?

Eden stilled. Someone had made her a dress? While thoughtful, it was not something she’d expected—and she’d never have chosen to wear such a garish shade, not with her coloring.

Prajna has not crowned a Queen, Gorlind. Do not refer to her as such until it is done.

Eden flinched at the vehemence in Luka’s tone. Maybe he was still upset about earlier?

Forgive me, Sire, but the ceremony is in two weeks. I only meant this is the dress for the wedding which will give Prajna its new Queen. I need to finish it.

Eden cleared her throat and Luka spun around.

What ceremony? she asked.

Eden had never broached the subject of a binding ceremony or a wedding with Viktor. He had a lot to deal with and she’d put it off, accepting the soul-bond was far more significant than any legal commitment.

It was sweet he was planning something. Though, she would like to have been involved. She’d need to reach out to her family and make sure they could attend if it was only two weeks away.

Butterflies fluttered and she suddenly felt very excited at the prospect of walking down the aisle towards her love.

Mariana, take Eden back to her rooms.

Mariana pulled on Eden’s hand, but Eden shook her off, confused over the sharpness in Luka’s voice.

What ceremony? she repeated. Everyone was acting very strangely, like she was not to know anything of her own wedding.

The King’s wedding, of course, Gorlind chuffed. It’s been planned forever, nearly a century. Why people plan these things so far in advance is beyond me, but to each their own.

But … I’ve only known Viktor a short time.

Gorlind coughed, Yes, well—

Eden. Go back to your chambers. Luka’s voice whipped through the air, interrupting the dressmaker.

Absolutely not, she denied him, the fluttering in her stomach turning to apprehension.

When Luka made to step towards her, she raised her hands, wiggling her fingers in silent challenge. She was already edgy, her powers itching and pulsing to be released. If he touched her, she’d scorch him.

Gorlind, was it? she said to the stout male.

Yes, m’lady. Prajna’s finest dressmaker, he boasted, adding a shallow bow. “And who might you be, mala kurva?”

Little lass he’d called her.

No queen on any throne would be addressed as such. No soon-to-be queen would be, either. He’d seen ‘neither hide nor hair of that female.’ He knew who he was looking for. It obviously wasn’t Eden.

Her synapses started firing, her shrewd intellect puzzling things out. The spokes and cogs of her psyche spun, outputting suppositions, pushing past conjecture and aligning with Gorlind’s words and her companions’ behaviors.

Her theories were barreling towards one cruel conclusion.

Eden’s heart pounded and the oxygen seemed to leave the room. In a way it did—she was inadvertently absorbing it.

I am Eden, daughter of King Edward of Gwydion, her voice rang true, not betraying the storm raging inside. Her iron grip on her internal tempest was dangerously close to slipping.

You—you’re the King’s sieva, he stammered.

Eden, I beg you, Mariana sniveled, pulling at her arm once more.

Eden remained entrenched in her internal war, refusing to be budged. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the red dress in Gorlind’s chubby hands. The lurid silk and tulle swished as he shifted uncomfortably, grating on her tremulous emotions.

To whom does this dress belong? she demanded.

His beady eyes darted around. Luka gave a subtle shake of his head. Gorlind’s gaze searched for a way out, settling on something beyond the royal guard.

To-to the future Queen, Gorlind panted.

Eden followed his line of vision to a figure down the hall. Long white hair framing a heart-shaped face. Red pouty lips. A body any male would kill to possess—or, perhaps, in this case, marry.

Gorlind? Bianca called, halting when she saw the tense group circled around him.

The future Queen of Prajna had come to meet her dressmaker.

The revelation could not be reconciled with what Eden knew Viktor felt for his mate, with how he treated her, the extent of care he’d shown. The bond could not lie.

Locked away in his chambers, kept away from the Prajna for her own safety? Or to keep his sieva away from his precious fiancé? her inner voice taunted, chipping away at Eden’s confidence.

Something in the back of her mind told her she needed to pay attention. Eden needed to think rationally, to sort through the evidence logically.

Viktor did not love Bianca, of this she was sure. As she zeroed in on the serpentine pattern of rubies sewn into the bodice of that abominable gown, Eden realized it did not matter.

The truth was in front of her, striking her right in the chest, taking a lethal swipe at her heart.

Eden’s b***d thundered through her veins. The vampires surely heard it, probably mistaking it for fear of Gorlind’s answer.

It wasn’t Eden’s fear driving her pulse. It was rage. Deep-seated and fierce, white-hot from her magic. If they cut her open her b***d would boil to the surface.

She fed on it, welcomed it. It was a far better substitute than the total annihilation of her heart. She could feel her magic eating at the soul-bond, pummeling it in punishment for the betrayal she could not comprehend.

Eden’s breaths came faster and faster. Luka’s muffled voice started barking orders. She couldn’t hear it over the roar of b***d pounding in her ears.

Soul-deep pain traveled up and down the bond as she continued the assault, desperately trying to sever it, to break free of the anchor that would surely hold her down and drown her.

Something hot kissed her cheeks, crackling next to her ears. It was familiar, soothing, enveloping her entire body in its warmth. Eden handed her sorrow over to her fury, feeding it, consenting to its control.

Luka, do something! Mariana screeched, watching in horror as Eden went up in flames.

A vice clamped around her waist and she felt the familiar compression of traveling through space with a vampire. The accompanying wave of dizziness lasted only a moment as they reappeared under the frigid waves.

Luka had ported them to the bottom of the ocean.