Crimson's Captivation (8 page)

“Tic, tic, tic. Such strong words, such
strong emotions, all founded in immaturity. You speak as if my
choices were easy. Trust me. The alternative, marriage of
arrangement would’ve been far easier—my reputation is well deserved
and has cost me much.”

She grasped Viktor’s cheeks in her hands and
looked him deep in the eyes, “Answer me this and I will overlook
your derision and spare your head this day. Why did you use the
word betray earlier?”

“Because I’ve never known of Kieran or the
trade and you’ve known all this time. You should’ve warned me and I
would’ve protected Crimson.”

Viktor collected the diamond necklace from
his pocket and held it in his palm so Sophia could see it. “If I
had known, I would’ve given her a silver cross rather than this
useless diamond necklace.”

Sophia placed her hand on his shoulder,
walked behind him, and whispered in his ear, “I see. Crimson knew
too, did she betray you? She knew of the trade and marveled at the
tales we would tell. Her skin would blush and her bosom would match
the beats of her excited heart. She would implore for more and more
details.”

Viktor’s face twisted and then turned blank.
“Crimson knew?”

“Yes. Ah, there it is. Betrayal is never
unblemished, is it? It’s pitted with all those little lies, those
little omissions over time. Everyone slants betrayal as if it’s an
abrupt act, as if it all of a sudden happened—it doesn’t, Viktor.
It’s a slow drift that accumulates like the snow on our mountains
up north. Sometimes it feels like betrayal when it isn’t betrayal
at all. Even now you don’t consider Crimson to have betrayed and
that is the reason I asked you that question.”

Sophia was back in front of him. “I’m the
only one you can trust. I’m the one who knows more about your
pursuit than you or anyone else. You can stand here and cleverly
mask your judgments of me, or you can shut your reckless mouth,
open your ears, and listen. Whichever, it’s your choice.”

And so it began.

Viktor didn’t say a word as he was coached in
the ways of the trade, told what he would face if he did, in fact,
make it to the auction house in Pinsk, Poland. His predispositions
were obvious, however, when she suggested his course of action
should be to head to Finland. She insisted that he and his two
guards’ stopover in Nyberg, but knew Viktor had little interest.
Sophia molded the young man for his battle as best she could.

She took considerable time to interview two
guards, when convinced they would die for the young nobleman she
assigned them the task of guardian. She then collected enough krona
for the long trip across the Baltic, Finland and Poland and wrote a
decree to the slayer in Nyberg: Train these men in all manners of
extermination of the dark creatures of the night.

Viktor thanked her as he took the krona and
decree. He handed the decree to the nearest guard without even
looking at it. His mind was already rushing a castle in Poland.

Sophia wasn’t surprised Viktor ignored the
importance of the decree. She sensed he had no interest in
diverting to Nyberg. No, his mind was already in Poland, already
rescuing his beloved Crimson. But the path from Finland to Pinsk
was in hostile territory, so she secretly pulled the two guards to
the side and instructed them to; “drag him, kicking and screaming,”
if he ignored her order. “The trip is three or more days over
hostile ground. He needs to be prepared. You must see to it that
you and he are trained by Johan in Nybergor or you will all be
killed the first day.”

Later that night, Viktor silently collected
his sword, wooden stake and silver cross plus the krona Sophia had
given him and left under the cover of darkness. He left his
assigned guards behind as they slept in the nearby barracks. When
he was outside the palace walls, he stopped to see if anyone had
noticed. When convinced no one had, he made his way east. He stayed
on the beaten path as he headed east towards Stockholm, there he
planned to board a transport ship, cross the Baltic Sea and embark
from the safe haven of Riga into hostile Poland.

An offshore breeze cooled the night air, and
snow flurries whirled about. Within days, winter would roll over
the land. He allowed his horse to loosen its muscles before
demanding more speed as he tried to put as much distance between
himself and the palace as possible.

His departure wasn’t unnoticed and his
assigned guards were alerted. They quickly mounted their Finnish
horses and tracked the young prince.

* * * *

Caspian was waiting patiently in the bow of a
tree. Having clandestinely listened to the conversation between
Sophia and Viktor, he knew Viktor would rush out in the night. Knew
he would have his revenge, all he had to do was wait for
Viktor.

“You’re a fool,” Caspian whispered to himself
when he saw Viktor alone on the path.

Caspian jumped from the tree, wrapped himself
around Viktor’s shoulders and pulled him from the horse onto the
ground.

“Hello, Viktor. You burned and marred me in
yesterday’s light, and I intend to do far worse to you this night.
I’m going to beat you to within an inch of your life, turn you, and
then kill you again.”

Viktor got to his feet and saw the horror
quickly darting about in the shadows, he was little more than a
blur. He stepped backward feeling behind him for the reins of his
horse and looking for his weapons. The vampire was behind him in a
burst of wind, grabbed his wrist, and twisted him to the ground. He
instantly slashed Viktor’s chest and drew blood.

Then in a matter of seconds from deep in the
nearby woods, Caspian shouted, “You should’ve listened to the
princess. If you had, you wouldn’t be about on a night like this.
She should have warned you about me during your little talk. Death,
my friend, has found you.” The shouts bounced off the trees and
Viktor was unsure where Caspian was, but quickly realized he had
eavesdropped on the conversation at the Palace. Viktor was about
the stand when Caspian grasped him by the feet and began dragging
him toward the woods.

Viktor struggled, turned on his belly and
began clawing at the ground. He kicked his left foot free, made it
to his feet and began to run. Caspian was in his face faster than
humanly possible. Their noses almost touched, and Viktor could see
his fangs as they glinted in the moonlight and smell his wretched
breath.

Caspian spoke as a person in full control,
“Die with honor, Viktor. Don’t run in fear, stand and fight like a
man. Wouldn’t Crimson want that? She would wouldn’t she? Want you
to die like a man?”

Viktor swung and missed badly. Everything was
silent, Viktor could only hear his own heavy breaths then a
swooshing sound and a thunderous blow to his back that knocked him
face first into the ground. The collision was so hard it left him
breathless.

Caspian had his feet again, dragging him
toward the tree line. Then a rumble, then a thunder of claps, and
Viktor heard them, two horses approaching. He fought to remain on
the path and started screaming. Caspian dropped his feet, jumped on
his back and had his spindly fingers around Viktor’s throat,
squeezing to the point where Viktor’s screams were muted.

From the direction of the two horses came a
whizzing sound. The pike shot through the air and speared Caspian’s
left hip. Caspian howled. Then another whisk and an airborne spike
whizzed by Caspian’s head. Caspian snarled at the two guards,
leaped up, and disappeared into the woods. The guards rushed to
Viktor’s side. Deep from the woods they heard the horror, “Death
knows where to find you, Viktor. And I will be right beside
him.”

The guards lifted Viktor. Viktor bent over at
the waist, resting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his
breath. The battle only lasted a few seconds and Caspian had nearly
killed him, and would have, if he weren’t toying with him. The trip
to Johan in Nyberg as suggested by Sophia was now completely
understood. He was completely unprepared for what lied ahead.

Chapter VIII

~ Appraisal ~

The night trip on the Dnieper left the
captives mentally and physically exhausted. Cold air slipped
through the gaps along the boats wooden walled shelter, causing
them to huddle against each other for warmth. Naturally, the topic
of conversation was escape. Sena picked apart all of their plans.
“You’re in a foreign land. The only value you have is the flesh
that is property of Tor. No one will assist you. They’d turn you in
for the bounty. Not to mention the moment you’re reported as
escaped, the auction house will get involved. And once returned the
punishment would be far harsher than anything you can imagine.”

Sena also pointed out that winter was on its
way, and that winters in Poland were especially harsh.

“I can handle the winter. What would they do
if I tried to escape? What could they do besides kill us?” Crimson
asked.

Sena leaned toward the middle of the boat.
“You’d wish for death but it would be withheld. Because we’ve been
bitten, we die twice. First, the death of our living flesh and then
the death of our blood.”

“But you’ve escaped. I heard you and Kieran
near the fireplace.”

“I escaped from Crimea. The sultan has so
many concubines that he probably hasn’t even noticed my
disappearance. I wasn’t a favorite anyways, not exotic in my own
homeland and you must know—we are marked. Escape will only get you
back to Tor and under worse circumstances.”

Crimson sighed, “I can’t bear the thought of
his egotistical hands touching me, of him between my legs or at my
breast. What if he tries to kiss me? I’m disgusted at the
thought.”

Sena leaned back against the walls of the
boat and snickered, “You think of kissing as more intimate than
sex?”

Crimson answered without hesitation, “Yes,
kissing is the sharing of similar body parts. My lips, my tongue.
His lips and tongue. It’s mutual. No one could force me to kiss
him. I’d simply turn away.” A distant memory seeped in and for a
moment, she remembered the tenderness of Viktor.

“I suspect you’ll be forced to do both and
much more. Luckily, men like that don’t last long, he’ll satisfy
himself and if we are lucky he’ll eventually lose interest.” Sena
nodded toward Sergen. “I suspect Sergen will be the most used. He
will be the most enjoyed of all of us.”

No one said anything more of escape. They
silently sat and listened to the wild rushes of the river. It was
all so cumbersome, the darkness of the cabin, the choker, the rope,
the cold, and this boat—the unknown. Their thoughts this evening
were daunting, bleak, and too frail to answer any of their internal
questions.

After several hours, they could hear distant
voices of people guiding the Trekschuit onto land. The door opened,
and a servant untied the captives. He led them one at time to a
moonlit shore where an entourage of servants surrounded a
Countess.

Crimson welcomed the fresh air of the night,
she took deep breaths when she stepped off the boat and stood on
the sandy shore, the cool river’s water lapped at her feet. For a
moment, she disappeared back to a distant place in Sweden, but the
recollection was washed-out by the pure exhaustion of trying to
remember. The night of being cramped up had taken its toll on her
spirits.

The countess stepped toward them. She did a
quick inspection, walked away and ordered, “It will be light soon.
Take them to the bathing room and clean them, then set them out for
inspection in the main foyer.”

The bathing room of the palace was light and
airy. Although the night was cool, the room was warm and full of
balmy moisture. The room was splashes of colors. Blonde and cream
decorated the walls, and green highlights on the stone floor. The
wall to the back held one of three fireplaces and two servants were
tossing wood onto the orange flames. Sergen and Uric were taken to
one side, Crimson and Sena the other. Chambermaids guided them into
the warm pool and bathed them with perfumed oils.

Crimson noticed the male servants were
eunuchs. “They’ve been cut,” she whispered to Sena.

“Yes, it’s not uncommon. They were either
purchased that way or may have transgressed against the head of the
household’s orders. I caution you to not behave here as you did
with Kieran.”

Crimson nodded. “What about the women
servants?”

“Chastity belts are used if they are shown to
have little self-control.”

After being cleansed, they were dried and
left naked, except the new codpieces attached to Sergen and Uric.
Moments later a guard entered and all four were led to a hallway in
the main part of the palace. One guard ordered, “You shall wait
here for the countess.” They stood there, by themselves, in the
main hallway.

“They’re testing us, seeing if we will run,”
Sena said as she watched Uric eye the heavy door to his left. They
stood there silently, waiting and then heard the footsteps of a
group approaching.

The countess with her daughter and a servant
in tow made their way down the long hallway. Crimson’s heart
pounded and she inched closer to Sergen and wanted to grasp Sena’s
hand. The countess stopped in front of Sergen first. She examined
him while drumming a riding crop in the palm of her left hand. The
countess was older but pretty, her long hair curled at the end and
disappeared over her shoulders, her skin the color of cream and she
had stunning blue eyes and plump lips.

“You must be Sergen,” she said as she ran her
eyes over him. “Nice. Skin bronzed from exposure. Are you Turkish?
Possibly Spanish?”

“Undo his codpiece,” the countess
ordered.

A servant reached across his left thigh,
began to untie the codpiece and was stopped. “Not you, you,” the
countess said. “You,” and she pointed to Crimson. Crimson kneeled,
loosened the knot around his waist and left thigh, and allowed the
fabric to fall to the floor. Even flaccid Sergen’s member was thick
and long. The countess admired it. “My, my, enthralling, just
considering it ignites my desire, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked in
the direction of Crimson.