Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Feeling as if he had just sold his daughter for thirty pieces of silver, Barrett watched Timothy Bloodworth climb into a luxurious carriage drawn by a pair of matched black geldings and drive away.
Walking slowly toward the house, he wondered if perhaps he should have listened to Bryony. Perhaps he should have swallowed his pride and accepted the vampire’s offer. And let his daughter marry a monster? He shook his head. In this instance, there were no good choices to be made.
At any rate, it was too late now. What was done, was done and if his daughter despised him, it was no more than he despised himself.
Stefan stared into the darkness of his prison.
Every breath brought a new adventure in pain.
He was familiar with dark magic, having had a black witch for a mother, and he sensed it all around him.
He had known about the Hunter’s Guild for centuries.
But he had never realized they had a connection to dark magic.
It hummed all around him. He quietly cursed himself for his arrogance, for always thinking he could handle any situation, overcome any obstacle, emerge victorious from any confrontation.
Well, he had met his match this time and it would likely cost him his life.
He swore long and loud in every language he knew, but it brought no relief.
And so he closed his eyes and summoned Bryony’s image to mind—the beauty of her face and form, the silken cloud of her sun-gold hair, the bright blue of her eyes, the velvet softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the pleasure of her kisses, the way she melted in his arms. The unmatched sweetness of her blood.
He groaned low in his throat. Her blood.
He longed for it with every fiber of his being.
Just one taste to ease the excruciating pain that tormented him day and night.
Her blood. Just a taste to strengthen him so he could fight his enemies.
She had married Bloodworth today. The knowledge burned through him like acid, worse than the agony of the holy water and the silver combined.
Should the opportunity arise, he would surely kill Leyton Barrett with his bare hands.
And Bloodworth, too. How dare Barrett give Bryony to another when she belonged to him!
He swore under his breath at the thought of Bryony with another man, sharing his bed, submitting to his lust. Bearing his child.
Rage exploded within him and he was helpless to indulge it.
He could only lie there in the dark while his imagination tormented him with images of his fair Bryony in the arms of another.
By damn, he would make Bloodworth suffer for every moment he spent with Bryony.
And then he laughed until he wept bitter, blood-red tears for what might have been.
Days passed. Bryony stayed in her room, refusing to come out, refusing to be in the same room with her father.
She ate her meals in her room, often with Veronica.
The maids tiptoed around her. Her mother tried to cheer her up but to no avail.
She refused to be comforted while Stefan was in pain.
Every now and then she felt what he was going through.
The unrelenting agony of the silver searing preternatural flesh.
The excruciating hunger that gnawed at his vitals.
Every night she tried to contact him. Sometimes he responded.
Often, he did not. On those nights when he didn’t answer, she wondered if it was because he was too weak to respond, or if he couldn’t.
And if he couldn’t… She refused to believe he was dead.
And yet, her father had no reason to keep him alive now that she was Bloodworth’s wife, though, for now, she was his in name only.
Perhaps they planned to keep Stefan alive until after the marriage was consummated.
Well, they could wait until the end of time because she was never going to let that horribly repulsive man lay his hands on her, let alone share her bed.
Every morning, she sent a note to her father, begging him to let her see Stefan. And every morning he refused. Stefan spoke to her mind less and less often as the days went by. She knew, by the timbre of his voice, that he was getting weaker with every passing day.
She had to see Stefan. Had to know he was still alive.
On the morning of the eighth day, she stormed into her father’s office. Arms folded across her chest, she said, “I want to see Stefan. Today.”
“No.”
“You will take me to him or I will not participate in another wedding with that despicable man you forced me to marry. I don’t care if you rot in prison. For all I know, Stefan is dead.”
“He is very much alive. Or as alive as a vampire can be.”
“I want to see for myself.”
“It’s too dangerous. The man’s a monster. A killer.”
“How dangerous can he be locked in a cage?”
“I said no.”
Squaring her shoulders, Bryony looked her father in the eye. “After what you’ve put me through, the least you can do is let me see him. You owe me that much.”
The truth of her words struck him like an arrow to the heart. “Very well. I shall arrange it. Be ready this afternoon at two.”
“He’ll be at rest.”
“I do not wish to confront him when he isn’t.”
“Coward.” Turning on her heel, she stalked out of his office and ran up the stairs.
She dressed with care, brushed her hair until it shone like the sun. She insisted her father ride up front with the carriage driver as she had no wish for his company.
Barrett fought down the hurt, angry words that sprang to his lips.
Why couldn’t she see things from his point of view?
She was his youngest daughter, his favorite child, how could he stand by and let her ruin her life by marrying a bloodsucking monster?
Didn’t she realize what her life would be like?
And what if Stefan turned her into the same kind of foul creature he was?
The idea of his Bryony as a vampire, living off the blood of others, made his stomach churn.
He had tried several times to tell her how he felt, but she refused to listen.
Stefan obviously had her under some sort of vampire spell that prevented her from seeing him as he really was.
The place where they were holding Stefan was three hours away. Located in the bowels of an old prison, it was well-fortified and protected by armed guards day and night.
Alighting from the carriage, Bryony followed her father through an iron-barred door, down a narrow corridor and three flights of stone stairs until they came to the cellar.
She shivered as they stepped inside. Iron-barred cells of various sizes lined both sides of the rectangular room.
A smaller cage was located inside a larger one at the end of the row on the left.
She knew immediately that Stefan was inside. She could feel his presence, his pain, excruciating pain that burned through him with every breath. “I want to go in there.”
Barrett started to say no, but seeing the stubborn set of her jaw, the stormy look in her eyes, he turned to the guard and said, “Open the door.”
“I want to be alone with him.”
“No!”
“Yes! What’s he going to do to me when he’s locked inside a cage scarcely big enough for a child?”
Barrett blew out a sigh of resignation. “We’ll be right outside.”
Bryony nodded curtly, her heart pounding as she watched one of the men unlock the cell door. She waited until they left the cellar and closed the door behind them. A single light kept the darkness at bay.
“Stefan!” She ducked into the cell and knelt alongside the smaller cage. It was enclosed except for a narrow, barred door in front. He was lying on his side, his arms bound behind his back, his eyes closed. “Stefan? Stefan, it’s me.”
“Bryony?”
“Yes. I’m here.”
“I thought I dreamed you. What are you doing here?”
“I told my father I wouldn’t do anything he wanted unless I knew you were still alive.”
He drew a deep breath, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of her. He wasn’t dreaming. She was really there.
“I feel your pain,” she said, slipping her arm through the bars. “Drink, quickly! Before they come back.”
“No!” Was she out of her mind, offering to feed him when he hadn’t fed for days?
“Stefan, we don’t have time to argue. Just drink. I know you need it. Want it.”
Want it? He thought of nothing else day and night.
Although it was dark inside the cage, he had no trouble finding her arm.
The scent of her blood was like a beacon in the night.
He sank his fangs into her wrist and drank, his eyes closing in ecstasy as the warmth of her life’s blood slid down his throat.
Warm. Salty. Coppery. It quickly healed the last of the cuts and gashes inflicted by their blades, eased the burn of the silver against his flesh, the sting of the holy water.
He could feel his strength returning. For a brief moment, he was tempted to take it all.
Doing so would restore him completely, allow him to break the shackles that bound his arms, break the bars that caged him.
Just a little more and he would let her go.
He flinched when he heard the cellar door open and her father’s footsteps.
“Time’s up,” Barrett said brusquely.
With a muttered oath, Stefan ran his tongue over the punctures in her wrist, savoring the last crimson drops on his tongue. “Bless you, my fair Bryony.”
“Is that all?” she whispered. “Don’t you need more?”
“Yes, but you would not survive. And your father would not permit it.”
“It’s time to go,” Barrett said brusquely. “As you can see, he’s alive.”
“Barely,” she said, gaining her feet.” He can’t even move inside that tiny cage.”
“He’s a prisoner, not a guest,” Barrett retorted. “Let’s go.”
Stefan, I love you. I’ll be back, if he’ll let me.
You have saved me, my heart. I will see you soon, one way or another.
Smiling inwardly, she let her father lead her out of the prison.
Strengthened by Bryony’s blood, Stefan closed his eyes and drew his preternatural powers around him. Concentrating on the guard who stood watch outside the cellar door, he spoke to the man’s mind.
Come to me. He smiled wolfishly as the cellar door swung open and the man walked stiffly toward him.
Give me your arm.
His movements wooden, the man unlocked the cell door, stepped inside and dropped to his knees, then thrust his arm inside the cage.
Stefan bit him none too gently. The blood was not so sweet as Bryony’s but at the moment it tasted like the finest wine and he drank greedily. When he finished, he commanded the man to open the cage and release him.
“I can’t,” the man said, his voice flat. “Charles has the only key.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
A brush of the man’s mind assured he was telling the truth. “Find him and bring him here.”
“Find him,” the man repeated.
“When you leave this room, you will not remember this conversation, or that I fed on you,” Stefan said.
When he was sure the man understood, he released the hunter from his thrall and sent him away.
Alone now, he swore under his breath. It might be days before Charles showed up. He couldn’t wait that long.
Closing his eyes, he focused on Bryony, her gentle touch, her sweet smile, the love in her voice, her courage in sharing her blood with a starving vampire. She was his and as long as he drew breath, no other man would have her. He grunted. Big words for a man chained in a cage.
She had wed Bloodworth, but they hadn’t consummated the marriage yet.
That wouldn’t happen for another few days, but, by damn, if he had his way, it would never happen.
Drawing on every ounce of preternatural power he possessed—both vampire and the dark magic bequeathed to him by his mother, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the chains that bound his wrists.
A minute passed. Two. He pictured Bloodworth lying with Bryony, touching her, exploring her body, rising over her…
A howl of denial rose in his throat as rage exploded inside him.
The silver shackles shattered.
After that, it was easy enough to dissolve into mist and slip out of the cage and the cell.
After regaining his physical form, he flexed his arms and stretched the kinks from his back and shoulders. A thought took him to his lair at the Stone House to get cleaned up. It wouldn’t do to show up at the Barrett house in torn and bloody clothing.
But first he needed to feed, and then a day or two to gain control of his temper before he confronted Leyton Barrett. In his present mood, he would likely rip the man’s head off.