25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
R owan sat flanked by Casimir and Marcus, their presence both overwhelming and strangely comforting in the cavernous space of the dining hall. In the light of a new day, she marveled at the details she’d previously overlooked due to her pain and fatigue. Beneath her, the chair’s blue velvet upholstery was embroidered with intricate motifs, and the walls were lined with stately tapestries. She chuckled softly to herself at the portraits of stern-looking ancestors, in such stark contrast to Marcus’s personality.
The staff meticulously set each place with crystal goblets, polished gold utensils, and bone china plates resting on embroidered silk placemats. Whenever Rowan’s goblet was close to being half empty, the servants swooped in with silent grace, refilling it to the brim. They were dressed in crisp livery, the de Beaumont crest emblazoned upon their chests—a roaring bear standing tall against a backdrop of midnight blue.
“Casimir,” Marcus said in his rich tenor, “I trust you're enjoying the exclusive vintage I procured for us.” He lifted his glass in a silent toast, his eyes gleaming mischievously in the soft, golden glow of the room.
The blood-red liquid in their glasses swirled, attempting to mimic wine, but Rowan saw through the facade. The two vampires moved around bits of breakfast on their plates and chewed on small bites periodically to maintain a semblance of normalcy.
“Exquisite, truly.” Casimir shot him a wry smile. “But I must confess, all this pomp seems a bit much for a morning meal.” His eyes gleamed with humor as he gestured at the lavish surroundings. “Do you dress in full regalia and sound trumpets when you take your evening bath as well? ”
Marcus let out a deep, booming laugh that filled the room. “One can never be too extravagant. Though I should point out that this room is meant for close family and friends, as opposed to the grand hall, where my formal gatherings take place. But I am curious—which offends your sensibilities more: the fine china or the gold cutlery?”
“Neither,” Casimir replied smoothly. “It’s just that I fear we might need a herald to announce each course.”
Rowan listened to their banter with an amused smile, despite her discomfort with the extravagance as well as the dizzying array of utensils before her. She hesitated, her hand hovering between a fork with an elaborate handle and one that seemed far simpler.
“Ah, Rowan.” Marcus caught her indecision and gave her a playful wink. “The smaller fork is for the fruit.”
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she reached for the correct utensil.
“But truly, please eat as you wish. My home is your home. Just having you here makes these surroundings seem dull compared to your beauty and grace.”
“Thank you.” She was grateful for his effort to make her feel at ease.
“Yes, thank you for all of this,” Casimir said, his tone shifting. “For fighting with us and providing us with a place of refuge. It hasn’t gone unnoticed or unappreciated.”
“It’s merely a small token for allies such as yourselves.” Marcus inclined his head, an elegant gesture that conveyed both humility and nobility. “We stand together, or not at all.”
“Speaking of standing together . . .” Casimir’s voice carried a hint of steel beneath the pleasantries. “How much exactly have you shared with the Council about Rowan’s talents?”
A hush fell over the room as the servants briefly stilled, their ever-attentive gazes flickering between the trio. Rowan’s fork hovered in midair, forgotten as her thoughts spiraled. Casimir’s question was as sharp as the knives laid out beside their plates, and dread pebbled her skin. What if the Vampire Council learned of her abilities? Would they covet her as a tool, a weapon . . . or worse?
“Always so direct.” Marcus chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual indifference. The tension was palpable, a duel of gazes over the china and crystal goblets. “Rest assured, I will keep it a secret. The intricacies of Rowan’s abilities are ours alone to behold.”
“I’m glad to hear it. We wouldn’t want any unexpected parties taking interest, now, would we?” Casimir’s tone was light, but the undercurrent of threat was unmistakable .
Rowan’s gaze bounced between the two vampires. Casimir’s protective edge clashed with Marcus’s smooth assurances, a silent battle of wills beneath the veneer of civility.
“Of course not,” Marcus said smoothly. “I’m well aware of the dangers such knowledge could pose. You have my word, Rowan. Your secrets are yours alone. And besides . . .” He cast a smoldering glance at her that raised goosebumps along her skin. “It’s far more pleasurable to uncover secrets together, don’t you think?”
Rowan’s breath caught, her hands becoming clammy. She felt a flush of heat despite the cool air of the castle.
“I want to be crystal clear that the Council will remain ignorant of your abilities.” Marcus leaned forward, shadows flickering across his distinguished features. “My reports have been meticulous, yet deliberately omit any detail about you. My duty may be to the Council, but my intentions . . .” He paused, giving her a meaningful look. “Lie elsewhere.”
Rowan noticed the servants discreetly stepping back, a silent dance of formality and privacy. Marcus’s words were meant to provide assurances, but they also revealed a deeper level of complexity to their relationship—loyalties were never black and white in this world.
“Thank you.” She fidgeted anxiously, twisting her silk napkin in her hands.
“Speaking of disclosures: let me be candid about one more thing.” Marcus’s gaze intensified, becoming a burning caress. “Your safety and wellbeing are of paramount importance to me. I will do everything in my power to protect and care for you.”
The air between them crackled as he allowed the words to linger.
His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “The thought of you in danger ignites a fierce protectiveness within me.” He reached out and brushed his fingers against hers in a gentle caress that made her skin tingle.
Rowan shivered involuntarily. The look in his amber eyes suggested a wildness, an unspoken promise of passionate encounters yet to come. Her cheeks burned with a rosy blush that only deepened under his gaze. She found herself both intimidated and exhilarated by the force of his desire and the newfound confidence it gave her.
“I—”
Her words faltered as a harsh, deliberate cough shattered the charged atmosphere.
“Ahem. If we’re quite done with this little tête-à-tête, there’s the small matter of an impending apocalypse to consider.” Casimir’s voice dripped with thinly veiled irritation. He stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the marble floor in a loud protest .
“Of course, the apocalypse. How remiss of me to forget our impending doom for something as trivial as”—Marcus paused, shooting Rowan a playful wink—“breakfast conversation.”
Casimir’s eyes flashed with warning. “We need to talk about training. Anything else isn’t up for discussion.”
Rowan rose, the earlier warmth in her cheeks cooling as she caught the current of tension between the two vampires. Each had a fierce protectiveness, their competing desires clashing like lightning. She stepped forward, determined to assert her own agency amid the brewing storm.
“Let’s not waste any more time,” she said over her shoulder as she walked toward the front entryway.
“I suppose you are right.” Marcus said. “Training awaits, and I’m most eager to see what Rowan is capable of.”
Marcus guided them away from the castle’s imposing walls and into an open field, where the real work would begin. The rolling green landscape extended for miles, disappearing into the distant horizon. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of grass and dew, invigorating Rowan’s senses as she walked between the two powerful men.
“All right,” Casimir said, his tone firm yet encouraging. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Rowan nodded, her heart pounding with anticipation. Determination flared within her. She was eager to test the limits of her abilities and prove what she was capable of—not just to them, but to herself.
“Try closing your eyes.” Marcus stood with his feet planted wide and his hands on his hips. “Let your other senses heighten. We’ll sneak up on you while you try to pinpoint where we are with your powers and stop us.”
Rowan took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the bright morning rays. The darkness engulfed her, giving way to a sense of calm as she extended her mind. She pictured the men as dark figures gliding stealthily through the tall grass. Their supernatural grace made them almost completely silent.
Using her mind to locate them was effortless, but attempting to halt their actions felt like pushing against an impenetrable wall. Irritation gnawed at her determination.
“Concentrate,” Casimir said gently. “You have the power. Let it emerge.”
She focused harder, willing the wall to crumble. Imagining her magic as a forceful avalanche crashing against the barrier, cold, relentless, and unyielding. She pictured the wall cracking, bits of it falling away as her power seeped through the openings .
“Keep at it,” Marcus said, a touch of admiration evident in his voice.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her muscles strained as the effort took its toll. She persisted, and a flicker of something different brushed against her consciousness—a cool whisper, a shift in the air. It indicated progress, albeit faint. A smile crept onto her face as her determination turned into exhilaration.
“Good,” came Casimir’s voice again. “You’re almost there.”
Her pulse quickened, excitement mingling with the blossoming power within her. The challenge no longer seemed insurmountable. It was a puzzle she was solving, piece by piece.
“Keep going,” Marcus said. “Show us what you can do.”
I will. I’ll show both of you.
With her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. She reached inward to the core of her being where her power lay curled like a serpent in the icy shadows. It was a bluish-white essence, just waiting for her to wield it.
She focused her thoughts, sharpening them into a blade of ice. Her power moved like frosty tendrils spreading out from her core: expanding, seeking crevices, breaking the shields around their minds, cold and unstoppable.
“I feel it,” Marcus said. “That chill? That’s her, Casimir. Our Rowan’s doing it.”
The impact of her energy slammed into them with unexpected force. Their movements, once fluid and effortless, began to falter. They grew sluggish as if they trudged through a blizzard, their limbs heavy with the weight of a winter’s frost.
“Remarkable.” Marcus’s voice sounded strained with the effort to move.
Casimir’s chuckle was a low rumble, but it too spoke of the toll her power was taking on him. “You’ve underestimated her, Marcus. She’s more than just remarkable. Much more.”
Pride swelled within her, the rush of triumph sweet and intoxicating. She had them. She could feel the reins of control firmly in her grasp.
“Enough, Rowan,” Casimir said, his voice tight, almost pained. “Release us.”
She blinked open her eyes, and the world rushed back in—a blaze of color against the starkness of her necromancy. Both men stood mere feet away, their movements suddenly unfrozen, gazes locked on her with a mixture of respect and something far stronger.
Marcus stepped closer. “Well done.”
“You’re learning fast—perhaps too fast for our own good.” Casimir’s eyes glowed with pride .
These two vampires were ancient and formidable. Yet here she was, a novice in the grand scheme of eternity, holding her own against them.
Her lips turned up in a playful smirk. “I’ve only just begun.”
“You should have a break before we try again,” Casimir suggested. “I’ll go get some refreshments. You’ll need nourishment to keep up the hard work.”
He turned and sprinted towards the castle. Rowan watched him go, the cold remnants of her power still tingling at her fingertips.
“We shouldn't waste these precious moments while Casimir plays host,” Marcus said smoothly. His golden eyes sparkled with challenge. “Shall we try the mind-sensing exercise once more? You're doing exceptionally well.”
“Ready whenever you are.” She squared her shoulders and set her stance. Closing her eyes once again, she searched for that inner core of energy.
“I’m always ready for you.”
Rowan ignored Marcus’s flirting and drew in a deep breath. She imagined a wall before her, seeing the fissures forming faster than last time. With a silent exhale, she projected her awareness outward, reaching for his mind.
“Good,” he said. “Now try to hold me.”
Rowan furrowed her brow in concentration, feeling the push of her power against the impressive will of Count de Beaumont. She sensed his movements slowing and her confidence surged.
“You’re getting faster.” There was a playful edge to Marcus’s tone, a teasing dance of words that promised more than just a training session. “But can you keep it up?”
Without warning, his presence in her mind surged, breaking through her defenses. Her eyes flew open just as he lunged at her with preternatural speed.
The impact knocked the wind out of her as she hit the ground, with Marcus on top, his body pressing hers into the earth. She looked up into his eyes, which held a glint of victory and something darker, more primal.
“Seems I’ve broken free.” His breath caressed her cheek.
Rowan’s heart beat off-kilter in her chest, both from the shock of the fall and his proximity. The exercise had taken an unexpected turn, crossing the line from training to something much more intimate.
“Marcus,” she breathed, uncertainty lacing her voice.
“Shh, don’t worry. I have you. ”
His hips shifted subtly, and she could feel the hard press of him against her pelvis, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.
“Is this part of the training?” she teased, despite the fluttering in her stomach.
“Consider it advanced lessons.” His voice came out as a low rumble, his face inches from hers.
There was no denying the raw sexuality of the situation, the way his body pressed against hers, eliciting feelings she was hesitant to explore. She should have pushed him away, should have protested, but Rowan found herself locked in place not just by his body, but by the sudden rush of possibility.
“Marcus . . .”
“Rowan,” he said, his voice dipping into a huskier register.
Their breath mingled as they hovered in that space between impulse and restraint, the surrounding silence broken only by the faint sound of rustling leaves and the rapid thud of her beating heart.
He closed the distance, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss that left her breathless. She responded automatically. He was an amazing kisser, each movement of his lips and slide of his tongue calculated to draw her deeper into the depths of desire. His hands explored her curves, igniting sparks that coursed through her veins.
Her body betrayed her, answering his passion with an unexpected intensity. Yet amid the haze of lust, a part of her remained aware that something integral was missing. A pang of longing twisted within her. She found herself wishing she was kissing Casimir instead, wishing it was him on top of her.
The realization struck her with the force of a slap. She broke off the kiss, the taste of Marcus still lingering on her swollen lips as she gasped for air, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and revelation.
“I can’t—”
Before she could finish her sentence, the air filled with snarls and growls. Casimir had returned, his glacial eyes full of animalistic ferocity. He moved with otherworldly speed, exuding an aura of dominance and aggression.
“Get your hands off her!”
He seized Marcus by the shoulders and hurled him with vampiric strength. Marcus’s body collided with a nearby wooden fence with such force that the sturdy beams splintered and shattered upon impact. Dust and debris surrounded him as he landed on the ground, his eyes wide with surprise and indignation .
“Damn you, Casimir,” Marcus began. “Can you not see we were—”
Another menacing growl cut him short.
“Enough,” Casimir snapped, his gaze locked on Rowan, searing all the way to her soul. “You were taking advantage of her, Marcus.”
Struggling to catch her breath, Rowan scrambled to her feet, her senses on high alert as she faced the two powerful vampires before her. Tension crackled in the air between them.
Marcus brushed remnants of the fence from his velvet doublet and stood with a poise that defied the violence of his recent flight. “I was doing nothing she did not desire.” His amber eyes locked onto Casimir’s dark blue. “Your claim is void, Blackwood. You haven’t permanently marked her.”
Casimir’s forehead creased as he turned toward Rowan. In that look, a silent message came across louder than words—a fierce reminder of his warning that only his mark could shield her from the covetous advances of his kind. The unspoken I told you so hung between them, heavy and undeniable.
“Then let me make it perfectly clear.” Casimir stepped menacingly forward, the air around him seeming to vibrate with his barely contained power.
“Enough discussion.” Marcus launched himself at Casimir. Fists met flesh with the crashing sound of vampires exerting their full, terrifying strength.
Rowan’s stomach lurched as she watched the two titans collide. Each blow they exchanged was accompanied by a surge of raw energy. They were blurs of motion. All she could make out were flashes of fists and glimpses of auburn and midnight-colored hair.
Marcus landed a solid punch to Casimir’s jaw, sending him staggering backward. But before he could press his advantage, Casimir recovered, countering with a ferocious uppercut that sent Marcus reeling.
“How dare you lay a finger on her. You don’t even deserve to speak her name.” Casimir pressed on with relentless brutality.
Their movements were a frenzy of violence, each strike carrying centuries of experience and lethal intent. Their bodies were impervious to damage that would have been fatal to any mortal.
Rowan watched the display of raw masculine power, torn between fear and fascination. These immortal beings were fighting over her, for her, because of her . . . It concerned her, but also made her feel powerful, beautiful, desirable .
Her exhilaration faded just as quickly as it had sparked. Frustration boiled over within her as their blows continued to land, some inflicting actual damage as she heard bones crack. Her patience snapped like a dry twig underfoot.
“Enough,” she yelled, but the grunts and thuds of the vampires’ brawling drowned out her voice.
Rowan’s energy blasted forward in a rush as she willed her power to intervene. Her magic wrapped around them. Both vampires stiffened. Their movements slowed until they were motionless, frozen mid-fight. Only their eyes, wide with surprise and confusion, darted back and forth.
“That worked better than expected,” she said, more to herself than to the statues before her.
A line formed between Casimir’s eyebrows in annoyance, his fangs peeking out from behind his clenched lips. Marcus, ever the picture of nobility, even in such a compromising position, tried to maintain his self-assurance. But there was no mistaking the flush of embarrassment that colored his handsome features.
“Maybe I should leave you out here for the next rainstorm to cool off.” An amused smile played across her lips as she struggled to suppress a laugh. “Try not to look so petrified. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” She couldn't help poking fun at them and her laughter bubbled to the surface.
Casimir’s muscle-corded arm was suspended in the air, his fist clenched and poised for a blow that would never connect. Marcus appeared as if someone had carved him from marble, frustration blazing in his eyes.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before acting like schoolchildren,” Rowan added. She leaned closer to Casimir, noting the way his nostrils flared as he struggled against the invisible restraints of her power. His eyes followed her every move. “All right.” She let out a sigh. “Let’s call a truce before someone gets hurt.”
With a flicker of concentration, she imagined her power retracting, the cold bluish-white tendrils drawing back into the core of her being. The vampires’ limbs loosened, their bodies regaining motion as they stumbled, catching themselves after the sudden return of movement.
“Next time . . .” Rowan laced her voice with both threat and promise. “I might not be so quick to unfreeze you.”
She had come so far from the woman who once felt inadequate and powerless. Never again would she allow herself to feel that way.