!Warning: M (16+)-rated themes: Mention of rape.

- XLVI -

The snow storm was about to abate and the full moon illuminated the study where Amelia sat at her desk, reading. Since General Thomas had left she did all the paperwork herself, a thankless task and unsuitable for an Elder. She really needed to find a secretary she could assign that duty to.

Sighing, Amelia tried to decipher a report from the captain of her guard, a decent warrior, but as it seemed, nearly illiterate. He informed her of some trouble he and his men had had the day before yesterday, when they had heard of a blood-bath in the mortal nobles' quarters and had wanted to help but Viktor's men hadn't allowed them in. The captain also wrote about not being able to use the courtyard for training the last few nights because Viktor's new elite troop, the so-called Death Dealers, had occupied it.

Viktor's new elite troop? Death Dealers? Amelia furrowed her brow. He hadn't spoken to her about establishing a new guard. In fact, he hadn't spoken to her at all since their argument two weeks ago. What was the warlord planning behind her back?

The female Elder irritatedly drummed her nails on the desktop. After her last encounter with Marcus, she was sure the original vampire wouldn't bother her anymore. Instead, it now seemed she would have a problem with her former lover. By rejecting his request to be the mother of his child, she knowingly had cancelled their alliance, and now he was paying her back by setting up bodyguards behind her back, by plotting against her.

In a quick and elegant motion Amelia stood up, heading for the door. She couldn't ignore those new developments. She would confront Viktor with this now, and she would show him that she wasn't that easy to fool.

Ilona sat on the sofa in Viktor's quarters – which were also her quarters now –, holding a silver goblet filled with red liquid. The tremor of her hands caused the surface to slightly vibrate and the vessel's content was on the verge of spilling over. Clutching the goblet harder, Ilona quickly raised it and downed the animal blood in one. The thick texture and the metallic taste disgusted her as much as this cold and damp room. Her eyes fluttered shut and she took a shuddering breath, as the images of the last hours overcame her again.

The lord of the castle held her close in a tight embrace while she wept and screamed in agony over the death – the murder! – of her brother and her nephew. Semira, that witch, possessed by all the demons of hell, had taken away her family, everything that had mattered to her, everything she had been living for, their existence annihilated in mere moments. Now Ilona wasn't able to do anything more than clutch at the straw that was Viktor's robe, throwing herself against his chest, trembling in his arms.

Her vision blurred when he led her away from the guest quarters, away from the ocean of blood, Lajos's blood, Adorjan's blood, the same liquid that still flowed in her own veins.

The next thing she remembered was sitting on a large bed with Viktor next to her. The warlord caressed her cheek, gently running his fingers through her dark brown hair.

"Will you be mine, Ilona?" he asked, his voice silky and caring, but his eyes burning in that vicious blue, betraying his almost infinite hunger for said liquid in her veins – and for her body. And yet she agreed, she accepted him. Because there was no-one and nothing else left in her life.

"Yes..." was the only word she could utter, and the sound of her tear-choked voice eerily echoed in the vault-like room.

Ilona felt the vampire lord's cold, dry lips on her own warm ones, on her ear, on her throat. The sensation when his fangs pierced her skin was unpleasant, but the pain that followed was excruciating. She experienced every fibre and every cell in her body dying, the warmth of life leaving her limbs like the last breath had left her brother's mouth. Then, everything went black.

When Ilona regained consciousness, Viktor was on top of her, undressing her, gently kissing her neck and licking away the last drops from her wound, his hands caressing her breasts. His touch felt more pleasant now that they shared the same cold body temperature, but when his fingers traveled lower, she flinched and scrambled away from him. She had adhered to the virtue of chastity all her life, she just couldn't...

Suddenly the loving expression on the warlord's features turned into a cold, threatening mask.

"You are my wife now," he reminded her, his voice a dangerous growl.

Then, before she could react, he seized her ankle, drawing her back to him until she, on her stomach now, was lying beneath him again.

"You promised, Ilona darling..." Viktor whispered in her ear as he held her wrists pinned to the mattress, parting her legs with his knee. "...you promised."

The cup fell from her trembling hands, clattering on the rough stone floor, and a few red drops stained the carpet. The animal blood rose like bile in her throat. Ilona wanted to vomit.

Gracefully, Amelia made her way through to dark castle, along a familiar way. She couldn't count the times she had walked the corridors to Viktor's quarters, often elated in expectation of his company. Until now. This was the first time she would be talking to him as a rival instead of an ally and she didn't know how he would react. When she accused him of acting behind her back to extend his power and become the strongest Elder, would he try to deny it and cajole her again, or would he outright affront her? In either case, she would stand her ground against him.

Finally reaching the entrance to Viktor's rooms, Amelia gestured for his guards to let her pass, but she was met with immovable crossed halberds.

"I am sorry, Milady. Lord Viktor is absent," one of the soldiers informed her.

"Then I'll stay in his sitting room until he returns," Amelia said, and without waiting for a reaction, pushed the gruesome weapons away.

The men didn't dare to hinder the female Elder.