Viktor: Heart of Her King (11 page)

One crushing blow after another of the god-sword and Bjorn was little more than a withering husk of a man only animated by the dirty magic of a forsaken goddess. Lifting his blade over his head, Viktor poured every ounce of disgust and hatred he felt for the bastard into the downward swing of his blade. The weapon blessed by the Father of the Gods sliced through skin and bone as if they were no more than warm butter. Bjorn’s hand still holding his dagger flew through the air, severed from his wrist. The bastard fell to the ground, holding his bloody stump to his chest, crawling backward on his knees, begging for mercy.

“Mercy? You now think to beg for mercy at the end of my sword?” Viktor scoffed. “You will find no mercy here,
bastard
.” The King leaned forward and through gritted teeth snarled, “There is only your death and no obolus to pay the ferryman.”

Bjorn grabbed for Viktor’s leg with his free hand. The King side-stepped to avoid the bastard’s vulgar touch. Bjorn fell forward, only just keeping his face from the forest floor by rolling to the side. A glitter of something shiny against the fallen leaves caught Viktor’s eye. It was the pendant of Eris, a small but deadly replication of the Apple of Discord.

Advancing on Bjorn, Viktor couldn’t help but smirk when the bastard rolled into a fetal position, cradling what was left of his arm to avoid further assault. Using the tip of his sword, the King cut the leather cord around Bjorn’s neck. Kneeling, Viktor retrieved the charm.

Holding the apple at arm’s length in the palm of his hand, the King threw the pendant into the air. And just as Bjorn screamed for him to stop, Viktor swung the god-sword, slicing the apple in two. Dark, dank magic poured from the halves of the golden fruit. Unsure where the knowledge had come from but with an unwavering belief in his actions, Viktor pointed his blessed blade at the source of the evil.

Lightning flew from the tip of the god-sword, eliminating not only the apple, but also the black magic. Bjorn wailed, begging for reprieve, crying to the sky, trying to crawl from the certainty of his fate. Viktor shook his head at the quivering mass before him. Bain and Tommas appeared through the trees as Viktor shoved the toe of his boot under Bjorn’s side, rolling him to his back.

Nodding to the younger Kings, he looked at the wretch before him. “I find you guilty, Bjorn Markis, of innumerable atrocities against humanity. There is no defense you can mount that will result in anything but your complete and utter death.

“I, Viktoras Katsaros,
Unum
of the Kings of the Blood, exercise the authority given me by the God of Sky and Thunder and Father of the Gods, Zeus, to pronounce you guilty of all charges. Execution will be swift. Do you witness and confirm this ruling, Bain Kostas and Tommas Papadopoulos, also Kings of the Blood and loyal to Zeus?”

“We do,” the men answered in unison.

Bjorn was wailing. He had given up on begging Viktor and was slithering across the blood soaked earth pleading for leniency from Bain and Tommas. Kneeling, Bain grabbed Bjorn by the hair and jerked his head up until the bastard was looking into the King’s eyes.

With venom only one who’d suffered at the bastard’s hands could have, Bain growled, “There is no leniency here. There is only death.”

Standing while maintaining his grip on Bjorn’s hair, Bain lifted the bastard to his knees just as Viktor swung the god-sword. His aim was true. Bjorn’s head was separated from his neck.

For several long seconds, the Kings stood perfectly still, covered in the blood of their enemy. It was a fitting end to the Bastard of Achaea. Each King prayed for their own immortal soul and that of those they held dear.

Viktor was the first to speak, “Bain, take the head to the sea. Burn it and throw the ashes into the surf. Tommas, take the body to the mountain top, burn it and bury the ashes in the caves under the boulders of the dead.”

To the dead eyes of his fallen foe still hanging from Bain’s grip, Viktor said, “May you remain trapped between the two worlds forever, never knowing rest, never knowing peace, always wanting but never nourished. This is the penance you must pay for daring to touch my
custos animae
.”

Without another word, Viktor turned and left the forest in search of Katarina. He could smell the death pyres the other Kings were using to dispose of Bjorn’s followers. The acrid aroma burnt his nostrils but it was a welcome scent. The bastard was dead. That debt was paid. The others would be dealt with another time. Viktor could mate the keeper of his heart in the way of his people without threat and with a clear heart.

Clearing the tree line, Viktor looked to what was left of the manor. It would be destroyed as soon as...

All thought stopped when Roman walked out into the daylight holding an unconscious Katarina in his arms. Sprinting to them, Viktor stripped the blood-soaked shirt from his body, and using a towel thrown at him from Salvatore, wiped away any excess that remained. With the utmost care he took his mate from his second, holding her to his chest and praying to all the gods of the Pantheon for her survival.

Walking to the gardens nearly two hundred yards away, he revealed the depth of his feelings for her in hushed, reverent tones. With a devotion that can only come from a pure heart filled with true love, Viktor lowered Katarina onto the stone bench beside a trellis overflowing with magenta bougainvillea. He cursed at the bruises circling her neck and the broken skin of her wrists. In that moment, he wished for Bjorn to be resurrected so that he might slay him again.

Viktor knew she lived, could feel her life force, saw proof in the gentle rise and fall of her chest, but had no idea why she would not wake. Kneeling beside her, he prayed for guidance, hoping with all that he was she would arise the vibrant woman who held is heart. She was the one, the
only one
he could ever love and he didn’t need Destiny, Zeus, or any other deity to tell him so.

Hours later, still bowed in prayer, Viktor’s devotions were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. Jumping to his feet, livid someone would dare to interrupt, the ancient warrior spun on his heels to confront the intruder...but the words froze in his lungs.

Standing before him was a well-dressed gentleman whose aura shone with the light of the gods. He spoke with a gentle tone that radiated authority, “Hello, King, I am Asclepius, son of Apollo. At the behest of my father and his father, Zeus, I bring healing to your mate.”

Walking to Katarina, Asclepius laid a disc of the light green apophyllite crystal inscribed with his insignia of the serpent wrapped around the staff of life upon her chest. The god then said, “Health and happiness be with you all the days of your life, Katarina Romalesky. Know that the gods watch you and yours.”

Without another word, Asclepius walked into the gardens, disappearing into a shaft of sunlight. Viktor rushed to his mate, pulling her into his lap as he took a seat on the stone bench she had been resting on.

He gave thanks to the gods for their help while waiting for any indication Asclepius’ blessing had worked. Just as the last rays of the sun disappeared into the horizon, Katarina took a long, deep breath and opened her eyes.

The breath was ripped from his lungs when she smiled a lazy smile and whispered, “I knew you’d come.”

T
he last thing she remembered was Bjorn’s hands around her neck, so waking up cuddled in Viktor’s arms was literally a dream come true. It didn’t hurt matters in the slightest that her cheek was pressed to the warmth of his bare chest or that the steady beat of his heart sounded better than any symphony ever written.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment Kat had fallen for the elusive billionaire. She wasn’t quite ready to say she was in love with him but as the girls in her sorority used to say, she was in some serious like.

For almost three years, Kat’s dreams had been of a faceless man who made her feel things she believed only happened in fairy tales. Then she’d heard Viktor’s voice and he’d immediately become that man. It was as if he’d
always
been that man. But nothing could’ve prepared her for meeting him in person. The connection was instantaneous. She was hooked. Then they kissed and all bets were off.

His chest vibrated against her cheek as the low rumble of his voice rolled through her body. He held her so lovingly and looked at her like she was his whole world. Kat’s eyes filled with tears. It was the first time in her life she remembered ever feeling cherished.

“Why the tears,
amica mea
? Are you still in pain? Do not fear—Bjorn is dead and gone, never to return.”

His look of concern only added to what she already felt for him. Shaking her head, she said, “No, not at all. I just...well...it’s that...”

Kat didn’t know what to say. It appeared from the look in his eye and the way he held her that Viktor was just as smitten with her as she was with him, but Kat couldn’t be sure. The fear of putting her true feelings out there for all to see, for
Viktor
to see, was scary. What if he rejected her?  Maybe there really were things that were better left unsaid.

As if he could read her mind, Viktor began to speak, “Before you continue, I have a story to tell you. One that I think may answer all your questions and calm your shaky nerves.”

Kat went to sit up but Viktor slowly shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hold you for just a bit longer. I was frightened I had lost you. If it is okay with you, I need a tad more reassurance you are really here before I let you go.”

Grinning from ear to ear, not afraid to let him see how she liked the fact that he wanted to hold her, Kat reached up and placed her hand on the nape of his neck. It took little encouragement for Viktor to lean forward. Their lips met. It was as if a match had just touched the edge of the kindling of a fire. It began as a spark that radiated and built throughout her body. It burnt all her self-doubt. Eliminated all her insecurities. This amazing feeling left Kat anticipating the eternity Viktor’s embrace promised.

Their kiss was life affirming, all encompassing, and she whimpered as he pulled away. Opening her eyes, she found Viktor smiling and knew without all doubt it had been just as devastatingly beautiful for him as it had been for her.

Mocking annoyance, he raised an eyebrow before saying, “There will be more time for distractions later, Katarina. Now I need you to hear what I have to say.”

“Then you have to let me sit up. If I stay in your arms any longer I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

His expression of surprise at her boldness made Kat laugh out loud. She grinned over her shoulder when the proof of his attraction rubbed against the back of her thigh as she scooted from his lap. Kat immediately regretted her decision to leave the comfort and safety of his arms, but she could tell Viktor felt strongly about what he wanted to tell her and she respected his judgement.

She smiled as he fussed to make sure she was comfortable and then he held her hand lovingly as he began to speak. The deep baritone of his voice mixed with his exotic accent wrapped around Kat, transporting her to the place and time Viktor spoke of.

“Long ago, very near where you sit right now, a warrior, a commander in the ancient Grecian army, was wrongly accused and executed. He suffered because of another man’s jealousy.”

It all came rushing back. Kat remembered the story Bjorn had shown her with his magic apple and nodded. She was surprised at Viktor’s calm demeanor as he continued the story she knew was about his death.

“But this isn’t the important part. What is paramount to this tale is what happened after. The commander had relentlessly prayed to Zeus, the Father of the Gods during his trial. So, because the commander was faithful and had been his entire life, Zeus came to the warrior in his final hour with a promise of retribution and resurrection. He told the commander that he would indeed die a traitor’s death but that his journey was not to end there.

“For you see, Zeus, in his infinite wisdom, knew that the world would always need honest men to right the injustices and defend the weak. So he told the warrior that his traitor’s grave was the just the beginning. The great god told the commander that because he had been a faithful servant in his original life, he would be given eternity to continue his crusade.

“Zeus gave the warrior’s body thirty days to lie dormant and rejuvenate before he rose under a new moon on the darkest of nights. He called this warrior the
Unum,
which in the language of my youth means
the One
, and he said this warrior would be the leader of the Kings of the Blood.

“The Father of the Gods let the
Unum
call the men who had been loyal to him in his original life into the service of the Kings, with a stipulation. The men had to freely accept what the commander offered at the time of their death. The responsibility to serve a higher purpose and to remain unknown for their heroics was non-negotiable. They were to be unseen at all costs. Zeus went so far as to allow the
Unum
to give the gift of their eternal fraternity to the ancestors of the men he had fought beside.”

Kat squeezed Viktor’s hand in support, waiting patiently to tell him the bastardized version of his story that Bjorn had shown her.

“As with everything, there was a price for everlasting life. The
Unum
and his comrades would live as they always had but once a month, on the night of the new moon, they would need to consume blood. Not as a parasite, but only taking the small amount needed to maintain their God-given powers. They were commanded to leave the donor as they found them...unharmed and healthy.”

Viktor stopped speaking, raised Katarina’s hand to his lips, and lightly kissed each of her knuckles. The look in his eyes coupled with his lips on her skin, was making clear thought harder to achieve. With a twinkle in his eye, grinning like he knew what effect he had on her, Viktor went on, “Now,
amica mea
, this is the part I want you to pay special attention to. It’s the best part of this tale, in my humble opinion.”