Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) (47 page)

A tremor rumbled beneath his feet.

With a violent shiver, it vibrated up through the soles of his boots and along his spine to collide with the base of his skull. Xavian faltered, dropping his guard. An enemy blade slipped through, gouging his bicep. Pain ripped through him as blood ran to his forearm. Pushing the discomfort aside, he reset his balance, but it was too late. He’d lost ground and his focus. A dull thump started, squeezed his lungs, whispered inside his head. Not words exactly, but he understood the urgency all the same.

“Jesu, Afina.” His mate was in trouble.

“Garren!” His sword clashed with the assassin’s. Steel rang against steel as Xavian backtracked. Retreat wasn’t something he
liked, but he did it anyway. Afina needed him. He didn’t know how he knew—why the earth pulsed beneath his feet—only that he must return to Drachaven. Without delay. Splitting Valmont in two would keep for another time.

The blue dragon swung his spiked tail. It hit the ground inches from his boot heels then whipped around, sending the bastards following his retreat into the rock face. Garren watched them thud against stone and growled, “What is it?”

“Afina.” Xavian breathed in smoke and spit out dread. He could feel her. She was hurting and so afraid her fear gripped his heart. “I need to go home...now.”

“Get on.” Garren lowered one shoulder. “Cristobal...you too.”

Xavian hesitated less than an instant. Riding a dragon was naught compared to the urgency thumping in his veins. Garren’s wings would get them home faster. And fast was very, very good.

Grabbing the twin spikes behind Garren’s shoulders, he leapt into position. Cristobal settled in behind him. The blue dragon roared once, calling the others, and unfurled his wings. His men followed; Andrei and Kazim on Cruz, Henrik and Razvan on Tareek. Clawed paws spread and muscle rippling, Garren pushed off, launching them into the sky. A death grip on the beast’s spikes, Xavian sent a desperate prayer heavenward.

Please, let her be all right.

But even as he released it into the ether, he knew that she wasn’t.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, making the leaves look like birds of prey. Caught fast by the net, Afina stared up at them, watched the flicker and wane as Vladimir’s men dragged her behind them on the narrow dirt trail. Numb inside, apathy spread, infecting her like disease. She sighed. ’Twas lovely, really. Total oblivion wrapped up with a touch of unreal.

The blood crystals hummed, drawing her in until her body didn’t belong to her anymore. Instead she watched them drag her, floated above the sheared cliff faces and knotty pines, unable to feel anything.

“Afina.”
The goddess’s voice whispered through her mind.
“Fight, child.”

She blinked, her eyelids so heavy she struggled to reopen them. A patch of fog floated between her temples, obliterating thought, unhinging reason. Afina frowned. What had the voice said? What—

“Remember, Dax, daughter. Fight.”

Oh, right. Dax. Such a wonderful lad. So smart and—

The amulet thumped against her chest. Afina glanced down at the white crystal. Bright light swirled at its center, pulsed once, pulled her in until her mind caught hold of a thought. Another followed, linking together until the mess in her mind cleared. A
jolt roared through, made her muscles tense, thrusting her into awareness.

Good Goddess, what was she doing? Her son needed her and she was giving in, succumbing to black magic.

The blood crystals hissed. Afina fisted her hand around the amulet, absorbing its power through her palm, and twisted in her prison. The rope held, pushing down as she thrust up, looking for a weakness in the threads. Sticks and jagged stone gouged her as she turned onto her side and reached for Xavian’s dagger. Numb fingers defied her and she missed, overshooting the flap of her leather hauberk. Afina gritted her teeth, demanding her body cooperate. But every movement felt weighted—difficult—like slogging through a bog of quicksand.

She tried again, caught the lacing that ran like a road up her spine. Hanging on to the ties, she rolled right to avoid a rock. It missed her shoulder by a scant inch. The men dragging her cursed, yanking her back around.

One of the beasts chuckled. “Do you see any more, Oscar?”

“There’s a sharper one around the bend,” the second brute said, anticipation in his voice.

“Good. Let’s see how well the witch avoids that one.”

Pressing her boots into the ground, she used her heels to steer. The boulder rose on the trail in front of them. The animals dug in, ramping into a run. She kicked right. The guards swung her back and she hit dead center. Pain struck, clawing at her arm and shoulder as the collision flipped her up and over, vaulting her into air. She landed hard, the guards’ laughter ringing in her ears as her rib cage contracted around her lungs and the trail gave way to grass.

The sliding stopped in the middle of a clearing. Horses nickered nearby. The brutes dropped the net, leaving her in a pool
of sunshine. Hiccupping gasps of air, Afina lay on her side, her hand still clutched around the white crystal, fear sitting like a stone at the bottom of her stomach.

Where was Hamund?

She closed her eyes, hope a barely formed thought in her heart. The fighting sounded far away now, a distant clang that spoke of disaster. The captain and his men were tangled in Vladimir’s web and she’d walked right into the trap. Afina swallowed her dread. She was on her own now, alone with a monster intent on murder and, worse, domination.

Damn her mother to hell and back. Had Ylenia loved her like a mother should, the swine wouldn’t be here and neither would she.

Something landed with a thud beside her.

She didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help it. The sweet smell of soap and blood mingled, telling her what they’d dropped next to her. Dax. One arm trapped beneath him, he lay on his back, neck marred by dry blood. Afina’s eyes stung and, desperate for a sign, watched his chest. It rose then fell, the movement barely there, but just enough. He was still alive. She had half a chance to get him home.

Afina blew out a slow breath.
Home. Yes...think of Drachaven.

Envisioning the strong walls, she pictured the guards atop them, armor set, weapons at the ready. Their courage helped rouse her own, helped her hold on to Xavian. Clear as day, his face took shape and form in her mind’s eye. She saw his blue eyes, his beautiful face...his unfailing spirit. Reaching deep, she embraced his strength and made it her own. The amulet pulsed against her palm and her magic stirred, rising to fight the blood crystals’ cage around her.

One of the guards kicked at her feet. “Not so tough now, are ye, witch?”

Vladimir shoved his man aside, sending him sprawling arse-first in the dirt. “She is mine. Remember that, Oscar, and you will live to see another day.”

“Aye, my lord.” Oscar gained his feet and brushed off his backside. As he turned, he glared at her, lips curled in a snarl.

“Apologies,
chère
,” Vladimir said, his voice smooth as silk, his attention on his man-at-arm’s retreating back. “No need for such unpleasantness...especially since you will soon be wedded and bedded.” He turned his gaze away from Oscar and met hers. “Though not in that order.”

The thought of him touching her made her skin crawl. “Xavian will kill you.”

“He will have to find me first. By then ’twill be too late.”

The certainty in his tone rubbed her raw. The terrible glint in his eyes catapulted her fear to new levels. He knew something she didn’t...but what? The mystery—all those nasty unanswered questions—hinged on his knowledge. “What did you do to my mother?”

“Besides kill her? Not much. The question you should be asking, little witch, is what she did to you.” Vladimir reached into the pouch at his waist. His movements slowed, prolonging the moment as he pulled a piece of jewelry from the leather opening. The golden links slid across his palm, dangling from his fingertips. A choker. One with oval blood crystals set in a diagonal pattern. Afina sucked in a quick breath. The half-smile he wore turned into a full grin. “’Tis a lovely dog collar, don’t you think? Fit for a high priestess.”

Dread sank like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Her mother had made the necklace. Afina recognized her work, smelled the black magic in each link. The stench carried a vile imprint, the same one used to imprison the dragon shifters.
And if Garren—with all his strength and cunning—had not been able to resist the spell, what chance did she have to defeat it?

“You’ll never get it on me.”

“’Tis why I have them to hold you down,” he said, waving his free hand. Afina glanced over her shoulder, trying to avoid the blood crystals sewn into the net. Four men stood behind her, looking keen and battle-ready.

Vladimir swung the choker on the tip of his finger, the sway hypnotic...terrifying. “Now let’s get you muzzled, shall we?”

“No!”

“Come now,
cherie
. ’Twill not hurt...much.” Crouching at her feet, he unsheathed his dagger and set the sharp point to the net. The four pigs shifted, boxing her in, one to hold each limb when her prison gave way. Vladimir cut the first junction, met her gaze, and whispered, “Soon you will spread your lovely thighs for me, Priestess.”

“Never.”

Vladimir smirked and cut the first link in the net.

Afina dropped the amulet and curled her hands into fists, muscles coiled, waiting for the moment the rope fell away and the black magic retreated. She was weak, yes, but not entirely defenseless. The buffer—the wall surrounding the core of her magic—was still intact. It wasn’t much...hardly enough...but a little was better than nothing. She needed to keep that
thing
away from her neck. “I will never forget Xavian. He is and will always be my mate.”

“So much spirit.” Vladimir chuckled, cutting another joint. “I will enjoy breaking you, Afina.”

Five more to go...now four. Afina counted, held her breath, felt her magic flicker as the netting loosened around her.

The swine cut through the last tie. He glanced at each of his men, a warning in his gaze. “Get ready.”

With a quick flick, Vladimir threw the blood crystals aside. Afina exploded through the opening, feet and fists flying. Her heels slammed into shins. Her knuckles connected with bone. Her fingernails gouged, raking their cheeks. The men cursed. She scrambled sideways. Cruel hands grabbed her, pulled her back, pinned one wrist then the other. Kicking out with her feet, she swung right, shoulders arched, boot heels tearing at the ground. She couldn’t let them get her feet. She couldn’t—

One calf hit the ground under a brutal hold. The other followed, pinned by the fourth bastard’s shin. Her curse turned into a sob. She called on her magic, prayed for the answering rush—the heat and power—but knew it would never come. The blood crystals had taken too much...left her vulnerable to the vermin holding her down. Still she fought their grip, howled her fury, refusing to surrender. If she lost the battle, Dax would die. Xavian would suffer. And she would turn into a monster...just like her mother.

Vladimir stood watching, calm in the face of her storm. “Now, now, Priestess. Give up...you are defeated.”

“I am going to rip your head off and feed your body to the wolves!”

“And I am going to fuck you here...in the dirt,” he murmured, still twirling the choker around his fingertip. Skirting the guard holding her right wrist, the swine stopped even with her head. She tensed when he nudged her with his boot, pressing the sole to her cheekbone. Wet dirt smeared her skin, mixing with the smell of leather before he lifted his foot away and sank to his haunches beside her. “Do you think my men will enjoy watching us? Enjoy the sight of your bare flesh in the sunlight, mud on your knees, my cock in your mouth?”

Afina’s bottom lip quivered, betraying her fear.

Vladimir raised his hand, brushing away the mud he’d left on her face. “Now chin up,
chère
. ’Tis time.”

She pinned her chin to her chest. “Get away from me!”

His fingers dipped, trailing down her face to curl beneath her jawbone. Vladimir pressed up. She resisted, protecting her neck. Applying more pressure, he used his thumb, digging into her pulse point. Pain shot into her ear, down the back of her throat, gagging her. With a growl, she bared her teeth and sank them into the muscle below his thumb.

“Damnation!” He jerked and shook free of her hold.

Afina tasted blood and, gathering her salvia, spit in his face. “Swine.”

Disgust turned the corners of his mouth down as Vladimir wiped the mess from his cheek. Cold fury in his eyes, he tipped his chin in Oscar’s direction.

“With pleasure,” Oscar said, fisting his hand in her hair. Lifting, he slammed the back of her head into the ground. Agony hit her like a flail, driving its spikes into her skull. The bastard raised her head again.

Vladimir grabbed his arm. “Flip her over.”

The band of fresh fear tightened its grip around her chest, squeezing a sob from her throat. Five against one. The bastards. She would never be able to fight with him sitting on her back.

“Good idea, my lord.” The pig holding her arm down laughed. “Want to take her that way too?”

“Mayhap,” Vladimir murmured, excitement sifting beneath the word.

Her stomach rebelled. Afina tasted bile and desperation, fighting to keep them from flipping her over. Their collective grip was brutal, squeezing in her muscles, compressing the bone
beneath. Her chest touched down first then her belly and hips. Vladimir’s knee settled between her shoulder blades.

No. Goddess help her, no. “Xavian!”

She screamed his name like a battle cry, over and over...until her voice gave out and shadows gathered in her mind. Like demons winged with blood, they settled deep as the swine wound her braid around his hand. His fist pressed to her nape, he pulled until her chin came off the ground.

His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Now you become mine.”

Afina bucked beneath his weight. “Go to hell.”

Vladimir retreated to loop the choker beneath her chin. She cringed, arched her spine more to avoid the inevitable. The crystals hummed, a breath away, reaching for her skin. An instant before gemstones touched her, a whoosh sounded above her. The bastard holding her wrist jerked and toppled backward. A long blur streaked past. Blood arched, splashing across her cheek as the second guard collapsed, an arrow shaft through his eye socket. Both hands now free, Afina reared. Vladimir hung on, tightening his grip in her hair. She made a sound, more animal than human, and twisted, unbalancing the swine on her back. The choker flew, flipping end over end as Afina brought her arm up. Bone cracked against bone as she planted her elbow in Vladimir’s face.