Chapter 6
Rafael reached out to his mother through their pack link.
"Tell them to lead us silently to a room. My mate is weak. Bring us food, and await their judgment. I suspect they have harmed my mate a great deal."
"Your mate has been harmed?" she asked through the link. He felt her surprise.
"I will tell you everything later. I just have to make sure he is alright now." Then he cut off the link between them.
He looked down at the boy… or maybe man in his hands. He could feel his frail frame. What a pretty little flower. Why would anyone want to hurt such an innocent-looking person? The world was truly a cruel place.
Something about his mate's scent—almost… he didn't know how to describe it. Like spring, like a field of flowers just about to bloom.
He carried Julian back into the pack house. When they got to the entrance, a man was already waiting for them and led them to a room, then left. Inside the room, Rafael laid his mate gently on the bed. A tray of food was already waiting for them.
"Eat, little mate."
Julian's movements were sluggish, but he started eating. Rafael noticed how gaunt Julian looked. He was definitely malnourished.
He made a note to make sure Julian saw the Healer when they got back to his pack.
He watched him eat—small but quick bites—and wondered how long it had been since he'd last eaten.
Suddenly, Julian let out a scream. Rafael wanted to reach out to help him, and then he felt a sharp, hot pain. It was like someone cruel had taken their hearts and was making them into minced meat.
Rafael struggled to keep his eyes open. Through a blurry view, he saw Julian on the floor, his face contorted with pain.
Rafael tried to grit his teeth and endure this strange pain, but soon found his consciousness slipping away. Then everything went black.
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"The First Duke of the United Night Court, Viktor St. Germain."
As soon as he was announced, Viktor entered the room. Immediately upon entering, he bowed low.
"Greetings, King Arylin."
"Rise, Duke," the king replied, and Viktor straightened. "Come, come, sit with me." The king gestured to the seat beside him. Viktor walked over and sat down.
"Viktor, it's been a long time. How have you been?" the king began, a wild smile on his face.
Viktor knew that this king might smile and behave warmly but… there was a reason he had been nicknamed the Mad King.
"My king…"
"Yes, I know, always business with you," the king said. "I will tell you why I asked you here, First Duke."
The king let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
"The time for the renewal of our peace treaty with those mutts is near, and it's their turn to host," he began. "This peace… it's lasted for almost a thousand years, and alas, I tire of it. It's your turn to go as our envoy to negotiate the peace treaty. Cause some trouble for your king, will you?"
Viktor looked down. So the time had come… and he'd have to leave his castle to those wolves.
"I would have asked Kalen to go," the king continued. "After all, he does these things better than you. But his mate is pregnant, and he refuses to part with her. At least no one will miss you."
Viktor ignored the open jab, noting that the king was getting more brazen in his attempts to provoke him.
But the king would tire soon. He would see that Viktor's heart was a frozen, shriven thing and no word of mouth nor action could ever hope to make it bleed again.
"As you wish, my king."
Viktor caught the disappointment on his face at his mildness.
"Then leave my sight." The king's smile had disappeared, and his voice was sharp.
Viktor paid him no mind. He stood up and left the room immediately.
Viktor had just gotten back home when a sudden, sharp pain hit him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He clutched at his chest, where the pain seemed to be coming from, and leaned against the wall.
What in the Night was happening to him?
When the pain finally subsided, he was lying on the floor, still clutching his chest.
A figure loomed over him.
"Lord Viktor!" his butler, Wren, cried. His voice was anxious. "My lord, what is wrong with you?" He reached out to help Viktor.
Viktor did not answer him. His expression rearranged into utter shock as he felt the steady thrum below his hand.
His heart…a cold, shriven thing…was beating. For the first time in his long accursed existence, Viktor's heart beat.
The butler, Wren, also froze in surprise. He could hear it too the faint, steady beat.
"Wren," Viktor called. Wren had never heard his master sound like that. "Do you hear my heart… b..beat?"
"Yes, Lord," Wren replied. "I can hear it."
"Oh, Night," Viktor exclaimed softly.
Everyone knew the legend. A vampire born whose heart did not beat was doomed to roam the earth, unable to love and unable to be loved. A vampire cursed to live its immortality forever alone.
Viktor's heart had never beat before. That was why he was the way he was. Cold and frozen over.
Then why did his heart beat? Why did it thrum steadily under his palm?
"Wren," he called out.
"Yes, Lord?" Wren replied.
"Why does my heart beat now?"
"Maybe, Lord," Wren replied, his voice filled with awe. "Maybe it has pleased the Night to give the lord a mate."
"A mate?" Viktor echoed.