!Warning: M (16+)-rated themes: Sexual content.

- XXXV -

White frost covered the Hungarian land and crept in every corner of the castle's walls, while ice flowers grew and began to bloom on the stained glass windows. The fire in the hearth of Viktor's quarters had burned itself out. Now only the embers' last light dimly illuminated the bedroom and the air was getting cold and damp. The curtains of the fourposter bed were drawn, obscuring the unchaste actions performed behind.

On her knees, Amelia clutched the sheets, her nails almost ripping the fabric. Low moans escaped her mouth with every motion of their bodies, only slightly muffled by the pillows, and she bit down on her lip. Viktor was not just inside her but all over her, his thighs against hers, his chest against her back, his hands caressing her breasts. Playfully he bit her neck and shoulders, his fangs not yet drawing blood.

Despite the cold, little drops of sweat appeared on Amelia's temples, on the inside of her elbows and the hollows of her knees, dampening the atmosphere between the curtains even more. When Viktor trailed the line of her upper spine with his tongue, he could taste the salt on her skin and it made him hiss in pleasure. The sensation against her dorsals combined with the animalistic sound in turn caused Amelia to sway her hips at a faster pace and the rhythm of their movements and their heartbeats accelerated simultaneously, raising them higher and higher. Soon a nearly unbearable tension rose within her, a wave of delight piling up from her very core.

She felt more than heard him moaning against her neck, into her hair. His right hand now wandered lower, urging her on even more with his touch and she winced at the feeling of his fingers caressing her. Then Viktor finally buried his fangs in the side of her neck. The sweet, wonderfully familiar taste that exploded in his mouth was too much for his mind and body: he reached his climax, letting go of her throat and exclaiming her name.

The pain of his bite shot through Amelia's nervous system, to the tips of her fingers and toes, and formed up to become the highest summit of her pleasure, the white hot crest on the storm surge of ecstasy that now descended on her. Her whole body shaking, quivering, her breathing ragged, she uncontrollably cried into the pillows. Her mind spinning with the overload of sensations, Amelia barely noticed Viktor licking away the last drops of blood from the healing wound on her neck. Then both lovers almost collapsed on the sheets beside each other.

When their heartbeats had slowed down, they sat on the edge of the bed, getting dressed, and he turned to her.

"Amelia, my love," Viktor whispered, gently brushing away a lock of dark hair from her forehead. "I wish to father an heir."

The female Elder knitted her brows, a puzzled look appearing on her slightly flushed face.

"An heir?" she repeated in a bewildered tone.

"Yes, an heir. You know that vampires can have children. It's rare but not impossible," her lover specified.

Amelia stared at him, wordless. Some strange feeling rose in her stomach, like there was a knot cording up her organs, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.

"You want me to bear a child," she eventually noticed, her voice completely emotionless.

"Yes, my dear. I want you to be the mother of my child, our son or daughter, the first of a next generation of Elders," Viktor answered.

A benevolent smile brightened up his face, but Amelia could tell that there was something else beneath, a patronising expression tugging at the corners of his lips – like he thought that carrying his child was a kingly gift, an honour and a privilege that she should be grateful to get granted. He definitely didn't want a child with her out of love.

"No," she said in an icy tone, her emerald eyes beginning to glow dimly in the darkness.

Now it was Viktor who looked puzzled, the line between his brows betraying that he couldn't believe she just refused.

"But why not? It is for the sake of our eternal sovereignty, to ensure the persistency of our reign. Then we will be truly immortal."

His voice was affectionate, gentle beyond comparison, but she recognised his words. They were the same like the night before, when he had persuaded her to put her maids to death. Now Amelia understood what Viktor was doing. He was sweet-talking her into cooperating, into obeying him. The knot in her stomach turned over and she felt nausea assailing her. When she had killed her own father so many years ago, she had sworn to herself to never again submit to a man, and yet she had done just that. She had allowed Viktor to cajole her, manipulate her, and finally dominate her. How could she have been so blind?!

Amelia stood upright, taking a deep breath while fastening the clasp of her cloak, then looked down on the warlord, who still sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes now burning in an intense green.

"I will not bear the torment of pregnancy and birth for your patriarchic idea of a bloodline," she clarified in a proud tone, her fangs showing. "I will not devote my body to be the tool of your egomaniacal imperiousness. I am an Elder and your equal. And you will not relegate me to the subordinate role of a prolific dam."

Viktor's aquamarine eyes grew wide in astonishment. Never had he expected Amelia to give him an answer like that. Of course he would appreciate it, if Amelia wouldn't participate in warfare while being pregnant. Maybe he hoped that, when she was tending to a child, he wouldn't need to discuss all of his political decisions with her. But she interpreted his wish for an heir as a coup d'etat, as an attempt to bring her down and subject her.

He stood up, too, so he could look down on her now, reaching for her shoulder.

"Amelia dearest..." he began, his voice still silky, seductive.

She slapped his hand away, her sharp nails almost piercing his skin.

"Stop it!" she hissed. "You have misled me often enough!"

Suddenly, Viktor's loving expression turned to its opposite, his face contorting into a mask of rage. If he couldn't persuade her with sweet words any longer, she should now feel his wrath.

"How dare you question my motives!" he spat, threateningly towering over her.

Before she could react, he seized her shoulders, pressing her against the wall, his flashing blue eyes burning into her green ones.

"How dare you reject me!" His voice was a growl, more bloodcurdling than any werewolf's roar.

He had expected this to intimidate her, but Amelia placed her hands on his chest with an unforeseeable calm. Suddenly she used all her vampiric strength to push him back and Viktor stumbled, eyes widening in surprise before he hit the bedpost.

"How dare you try to rule over me!" Amelia snapped in a haughty tone, then turned and left the room at a fast pace.

Thomas walked along the corridor when he heard agitated voices coming from Lord Viktor's quarters. He wasn't a particularly curious person and whatever the Elders were upset about didn't concern him, but the General stopped in his tracks, wanting to make sure that everything was alright. Before he could knock, however, Lady Amelia exited Viktor's rooms, seeming to be in high dudgeon. Thomas bowed to her.

"Milady, if you are in trouble..." he started to offer her his help, but she cut him off.

"Out of my way, servant!" Her eyes flashed up like acid green flames, before she walked past him.

After the sound of her footsteps had trailed away in the vastness of the corridor Thomas stood there in silence and made a decision. He would take some of his men and leave Castle Corvinus to head for the northern lands.