Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy (16 page)

I walk through the
empty kitchen and out into the deserted halls with silent steps,
listening to talk of the horses that have fallen to the brutal ice
storm that has seized the land. Soon they will be the main course on
our dinner table.

Night must be upon
us for so many of my brethren to be awake. Odd that it does not feel
so late though. My time spent in the dungeon must have displaced me
from reality.

“Roseline?”
I turn at the voice, my fingers tightening instinctively around the
folds of the stranger’s cloak.

A man stands in the
doorway of his chambers, his shoulders nearly as wide as the door.
His skin is darker than most, almost as if he has spent far too much
time out in the sun. His lips are pale and his eyes gleam with an
amber hue, making his pupils seem void of all light.

His tawny hair is
full though cropped shorter than most, resting upon the tops of his
shoulders instead of down his back. Not long after I arrived, I heard
that Verity chopped Clement’s hair while he slept as a prank.
Everyone within the castle knows of his love of staring into a
mirror. Though I would not go so far as to call him an overly
prideful man, he does take great pleasure in looking presentable at
all times.

Judging
by the slightly uneven length to his hair, I am inclined to believe
the tales.
Verity
does rather enjoy jabbing people where it hurts the most, or at least
she did
,
I silently amend, remembering all too well her final moments in the
boat shack.

She had felt fear—of
that I am sure. A part of me feels sorry for her, though I know if
Lucien had not arrived, I would have been forced to endure her own
form of torment. Though she implied she wanted to end my life, I know
it was a ruse. No one with her keen love of torture would let their
victim goes with such ease.

I refocus my
thoughts on Clement, noting that his clothes are made of fine velvet,
a deep blue that makes his eyes appear to glow from within. I have
always found him to be eccentric, though for the most part tame.
Although Vladimir ridiculed his skill with a bow and arrow on my
first night within the castle walls, I would not dare offer to be one
of his targets.

I am also not fool
enough to assume that he is completely harmless. No, he would rip out
my throat if he saw benefit in doing so. Luckily for me, that day has
not yet come.

“Clement.”
I dip my head in somber greeting.

He is a mask of
mystery, revealing neither emotion nor thought. “The entire
castle has been searching for you since Vladimir’s return.”

“Have they?”
I step closer so he can catch the full extent of my degraded state in
the flickering light. “A pity no one thought to look for me in
Lucien’s dungeon.”

His lips peel back
from his teeth as a low hiss rises in his throat. “It would be
wise not to speak of such… deceptions. Vladimir does not take
kindly to falsehoods against his brother.”

I tilt my head to
the side so he may take in the full view of my newly healed patch of
scars that runs the length of my neck. In a day or so, all evidence
of my time spent in the dungeon will be gone, yet even a cupful of
blood is not enough for an instantaneous healing. “Do you think
I did these to myself?”

Clement steps
forward, his imposing stance meant to make me cower. Perhaps before I
would have. Now, I have no care to. His eyes narrow. “You have
changed.”

I nod in agreement.
“Endless affliction has that effect on a person. You reach a
point where pain no longer matters, where the only thing that means
anything is a choice.”

His brow furrows. “A
choice between what?”

I smile, feeling the
first ounce of empowerment I have felt since arriving in this horrid
place. “Between merely existing and living.”

I turn on my heel
and walk past, leaving him to mull this over in silence. As I reach
the steps to the second floor, I hear the latch on his door catch and
exhale a tiny breath of relief. Although I managed to come across as
confident, I am far from it. It is true that I have changed from the
whimpering girl who first entered Lucien’s dungeon. He broke
me, though not in the way he had hoped.

He wanted me to
fight back. I simply realized that to do so would be to mean that I
care… which I do not. Death has been plucked from my hands,
though I will not give up reaching for it. I know now what this life
has to offer me and I want no part of it. No, I will seek death with
every ounce of my being. Vladimir, and his wicked brother, will have
no control over me. I will see to that as well.

The climb to my
chambers is long and arduous. My heart feels heavier with each step I
take. I know what awaits me at the top of the stairs. By now Vladimir
will be aware of my return. I made no effort to conceal my voice
below or the sound of my steps as I rise toward my turret. The only
question is… will Lucien be waiting there for me as well?

As I step past my
door, an unconscious tremble begins in my fingers. I have never
willingly gone to Vladimir before, never seen the interior of his
room. Up to this point, he has preferred to defile me in my own room.
I suspect this has been a symbol that I am not safe anywhere.

I reach out to push
open Vladimir’s door and note the growing tremble in my
fingers. I draw my hand back, clutching it to my chest as I will
myself not to give in to the fear. To push it aside completely.

You
do not fear death,
a voice in my mind whispers.
You
fear living.

As I reach out
toward the door once more, it flings open. Vladimir stands before me,
his face darkened with anger. “Where have you been?”

Before I can speak,
my husband grasps my wrist and pulls me through the doorway. I am
only vaguely aware that the door slams behind me as I sprawl to the
floor. Pain flares along my right hip from where I land upon the hard
floor, though I hardly take notice. It is a mere annoyance after the
days of torture I have recently endured.

A
fire spits in the hearth nearby. A wide and tall metal grate has been
placed before it, forcing the majority of the heat back up through
the hole above the fire, allowing only enough heat into the room to
take the chill off the air. All the furniture in the room has been
shoved to the opposite side, despite the screen.
Vladimir
has always shown a great sensitivity to heat,
I
muse, storing that information for later use.

Lucien sits in one
of the finely upholstered chairs beside the window, his leg lazily
crossed over his knee. He lifts his gaze to mine and I can see the
depths to which his anger has grown buried in his eyes.

I
almost smile when I realize he was unaware of my release.
Perhaps
he is not as intelligent as he supposes.

“I asked you a
question,” Vladimir roars as he yanks me up from the floor and
shoves me into a chair. It rocks back onto two legs, threatening to
spill me backward, but my husband places his boot on one chair leg
and slams me back to the ground.

My head spins for a
moment as I am thrust forward. I dig my nails into the fabric to
remain rooted in place.

“Isn’t
it obvious, dear brother?” Lucien says with utmost boredom. He
flicks the tip of his dagger, unearthing dirt or perhaps my blood
from beneath his fingernails. “She has attempted to escape.
Just look at how filthy she has become.”

My lips curl back
from my teeth as a low growl begins to rumble deep within my chest.
“You lie!”

“Careful
girl,” Vladimir warns as he paces before me. His gaze drifts
over my matted hair and unkempt decor. “That is my brother to
whom you speak.”

“No.” I
shake my head as I lift my chin to stare back at him. “That is
a demon.”

For a moment there
is no sound in the room; then great bellowing laughter seizes
Vladimir and Lucien. I watch as tears stream from their eyes, as if I
have just presented the best joke known to man. Their laughter vexes
me. I dig deep trenches into the cushion of the chair yet remain
silent.

Vladimir wipes his
eyes and walks over to stand beside Lucien. They both look at me,
sizing me up. “Apparently your attempts have failed, brother.
She should have slit your throat the moment she discovered your
presence in the room.”

“Yes, that
would have been impressive.” The corner of Lucien’s lip
twitches. “Apparently we will have to try again.”

I struggle to
comprehend this sadistic twist in the plot. Vladimir knew what Lucien
was doing to me. He probably asked him to do it. My stomach turns
bitter as I lower my gaze. My eyes begin to sting with unshed tears.
I refuse to give them the satisfaction.

They did this to me.
Both of them. I was a fool to think Vladimir would be furious over
his brother’s actions. It was all a ploy, a sick, perverted
game for them.

“No.”
Vladimir shakes his head and moves toward a side table. He reaches
for a golden pitcher and pours himself a drink. My stomach clenches
at the sweet scent of blood. My throat burns with need, yet I refuse
to let them see it. “She has been gone far too long.”

Lucien turns in his
seat. His former pleasure vanishes, only to be replaced by something
that might be considered desperation. “Do not let your lusts
cloud your judgment, Vladimir. The girl only needs more time.”

Vladimir takes a
long, slow drink. His gaze never leaves mine. I can see him weighing
his options. The hollowness within me spills forth as I realize the
depths to which this betrayal affects me. It is not just my husband
and Lucien that have betrayed me, yet the stranger as well.

They
must have sent him to me, knowing I would cling to the hope of a
savior.
My
chest clenches as a single tear slips from the corner of my eye. I
wipe it away, though I can still feel the damning moisture against my
cheekbone.
He
is just as much a monster as these two are. I am a fool.

“What of
Verity?” I ask as Vladimir turns away. I cannot bear the
thought of being dismissed so easily. Not without answers. “Was
her death a ruse as well?”

“Oh no.”
Lucien grins as he returns to his administrations of cleaning his
nails. “She deserved her death.”

Vladimir’s
laugh is cruel and filled with more ice than clings to the trees upon
the castle grounds. “She was no longer useful to me. Her
jealousy would only seek to endanger your life and I could not allow
that to be. Besides, Lucien was growing restless. I felt her passing
would give him proper… motivation with his time spent with
you.”

A quake begins
within me as anger pools in my abdomen. “And what of Cassius?
Surely he will seek revenge. He dearly loved his sister.”

A slow grin spreads
along Lucien’s lips, almost as if he relishes the thought.
“Cassius is a good dog. He does as he is told, unlike his
sister. He will play the part well.”

Could this be true?
Could Cassius truly be that naïve, or does his own fear of death
force him to accept a fate that is less than he would have liked? He
knew of his sister’s exploits. The entire castle knew, though I
doubt that gave him any solace when he watched her body burn upon a
funeral pyre… if they even gave her one.

I sit up straighter
in my chair. “And what is my part to be, then?”

Vladimir’s
eyebrows rise with surprise. “Have I not made that clear yet,
my dear?”

He sets down his
glass and approaches. When he reaches the side of my chair, I have to
force myself not to draw back from him. He snatches my chin between
his fingers and leans in so close all I can see are the flames of the
fire mirrored within his glassy eyes. “You are mine to mount
whenever and in any manner I so please. Your body is mine.”

“So I am to be
your whore?” I spit back at him, repulsed by the thought that I
am nothing more than a piece of meat for him to play with at his
every whim. Surely my family was slaughtered and my mortality stolen
for a purpose greater than mere lust. It is abominable to think
otherwise.

“Not just
his.” Lucien chuckles as he rises to his feet. I shift my gaze
to the side, straining to see him as Vladimir tightens his grip on my
chin so I cannot move my head. “You will be shared among the
men, in time.”

“No!”
Vladimir’s grip loosens as he turns on his brother. “This
one is mine.”

“Come, come,
dear brother. Your brethren will not be pleased with this. It is the
way of things.” The way he speaks so freely of my imminent rape
chills me to the bone. There is hardly any emotion to his words.
Certainly not any lust of his own. No, Lucien is not interested in my
body. He longs to possess my soul.

Vladimir shoves me
back as he rises to face off with Lucien. “I forged the rules.
I possess the ability to amend them.”

Lucien’s pale
skin flushes with anger. I turn my head to watch him as spittle flies
from his lips. “Do not be a fool, brother. The men will demand
their time with her. If you refuse, there will be trouble. She is a
girl, nothing more.”

“If that is
true, then why did you select her for me? It is unlike you to hand
select a girl for my bed.” Vladimir takes a step forward to
challenge Lucien. “I know you too well, dear brother. You have
a personal interest in this one. She is special. You said so
yourself, so why must you force this issue with me?”

Lucien’s brow
dips low and I tense, sure he will strike Vladimir. The intensity
between them is nearly palpable. “The girl is to be shared.
That is final.”

He turns on his heel
and walks toward the door. I hardly have time to blink before
Vladimir leaps and tackles Lucien to the ground, scrambling to be on
top. I see the glint of a blade a second before it comes to rest
against Lucien’s neck. “No one will touch her without my
permission. Is that clear?”