21 Shades of Night, page 422
Focusing on the task at hand, Martinet pinned the woman against the wall and rubbed his body against hers. Her body filled with fear as soon as she realised she could not move a muscle. She had managed to pull a silver dagger out of her bodice before his gaze had come to rest upon her, and it now sat at a careless angle, drooping like a wilted flower in her useless hand above his head. Flicking it away with his thumb and forefinger, he gave her a rictus grin and slowly flexed every digit in his right hand, enjoying her look of terrorised panic as he moved his hand towards her sternum. He then punched his fist through her chest and ripped out the tangled remains of her heart, torn arteries still pumping blood in a futile attempt to sustain life. The light died in her eyes, and her mutilated body plummeted to the ground.
‘Enough!’ screamed Violetta. She didn’t care who heard her in the staid confines of Venice’s moneyed aristocracy. Her body was shaking all over, and a fine sheen of sweat coated the back of her neck.
He bore down on her face and hammered his message home with a biting tone. ‘You have no power here. I hold all the cards. You had your chance, and you lost everything. At this moment in time, your life is worth less to me than a casual encounter with a particularly annoying bug. I care not if you live or die, but at the moment it entertains me to see you fight, so I may allow you to see another dawn or two while I instruct you on the arts of pleasuring me. You have no choice, no will, and no say in the matter. So you’d do better to please rather than annoy me. I can make you suffer worse torments than death, chérie, and I’ll be happy to prove it to you. Now call off your hounds before I do all that you have seen and much more.’
He released her then, pushed her away from him with more force than necessary, and left her tottering unsteadily on the highly polished floor. He withdrew from the crowd silently but remained a firm presence in her mind. It took her a moment to get her balance, but he aided her with his invisible control.
‘Tell your friends that you are about to finish me off in the gardens and will return with the evidence in due course. That is what they usually expect, is it not?’
‘They will want blood,’ she replied by way of thought.
‘They will get it - yours. But don’t worry; your wound will not be mortal. Now be a good girl and get over there before I renege on our deal and begin a storm of carnage that would impress Genghis Khan.’
‘Yes, sir,’ was the caustic reply, and his echoing laughter in her head was not a pleasant sound.
‘You’re learning.’ With that, the pain from her arm vanished and full mobility returned. Her heart rate slowed, her mind cleared, and she was left with two choices: Obey or watch all of those around her be slaughtered in a mindless fury.
Or was there yet a third choice?
Chapter 2
Watering the Garden
MARTINET HAD STOPPED the pain radiating out from her shoulder as she made a beeline towards the gathered crowd of her friends, but she didn't think him any less of a monster for his small kindness. If he'd wanted her to speak in a calm, even voice and be in the slightest bit believable, it was the very least he'd have to do. The speed in which he'd managed to set her body to rights had been astounding, though. One minute she'd been crippled with agony; heart racing, skin deathly white, and barely able to get a word past her dry lips. In the next, her cheeks were once again rosy in colour, eyes sparkling with health, and her breathing returned to a slow and easy pace. Violetta was now gliding across the parquet floor of the ballroom as if she hadn't a care in the world, a hand flouncing up to caress a lock of red hair as she toyed with it in a flirtatious manner. He prevented the growl that wanted to escape from her throat at his meddling interference.
'I am not trying to attract a suitor, so leave me be.' She pushed the thought at him with a little more force than necessary and knew he'd received it when she heard his answering laugh.
'Bored of suitors already, Violetta? How many have you had in that short lifespan of yours? Can't be more than a couple, can it?'
The reply of 'none' wanted to fly from her lips, but she managed to hold it in, barely, while she directed her thoughts towards puncturing his body with numerous sharp and delightfully pointed instruments of death.
'My, my, my, such temper in one so young. You'll need to learn to control that, sweetness, or I assure you there'll be repercussions.' It was clear by the tone of his voice that Martinet was amused and, if anything, it just infuriated her more.
'I will never stop trying to kill you,' she bit back telepathically. 'Every waking moment you will need to watch me, because if you let down your guard for the merest instance and I find a way of ending you, it will be done. Leave me here, beast, and go find one of your own kind to torment.'
'Oh, I would,' came the soft and menacing reply, 'but you've killed all the ones in these parts, I believe.' The voice that uttered those words was deadly.
A flash of horrific pain hit her as he let her shoulder make its presence known once more. There was a tight gasp and her feet went out from under her, pitching her body forward into the thronging crowds. Almost as soon as it had appeared, the pain vanished - but it had served its purpose as a warning. Violetta knew she would have to guard her viperish tongue or face the consequences. Setting out both arms to steady herself, she apologised to the portly gentleman she had just careened into and exchanged the required pleasantries before making her excuses to depart. The balding man, whose eyes had taken on a luminous gleam at having such a pretty maiden fall at his feet, held on to her arm for a few seconds longer than necessary. With a little effort on her part, she managed to wrench herself away with a smile and continue forward to her objective. What would she say to them? Was it possible they would believe her lies? Eleanor, an older huntress and her mentor, would see through her in a second. She would have to direct her speech at someone less astute. Connaught was the obvious choice. He was still a good friend but not on the same personal level as her so-called 'mother'. He would not be able to read her so keenly. He would not smell the lie. At least, she hoped he wouldn't, for the lives of her friends rested upon him believing her. She had no doubt that Martinet would carry through with his threats if she failed and create a massacre of the grandest proportions. Violetta wouldn’t allow it. If he took a life tonight it would be hers, for she wanted no one else involved in this fiasco.
'So noble, Violetta,' he drawled in a bored fashion. 'Do get on with it, dear, or I may have to get out my hankie.'
Her back wanted to stiffen at his comment and her tongue wanted to lash out, but neither options were apparently available to her, so it was with great chagrin that she found herself smiling sweetly and turning her face around to address Connaught with his familiar nickname.
'Con, I've found him,' she whispered in a sickly sweet girly voice that was full of excitement and awe. They were not her own words and the inflection upon them was all Martinet's own. He manipulated her with far too much skill and for that alone she wanted to scratch his eyes out. In her head, she was horrified that he'd already began plucking secrets from her mind, and what was even more galling was the knowledge that it would be the first of many. He had her at his complete and utter mercy.
'Good girl,' whispered Con with a congratulatory wink and a pat on the back. It was clear that he suspected nothing was amiss by his relaxed posture and wide smile. 'Now that you have him where you want him, what are you going to do with him?' The question was an old one and said for rhetorical effect, but she didn't feel the desire to smile as she normally would have. Alas, Martinet had other plans for her. Tinkling peals of laughter erupted from her throat and her face returned Con's large grin.
'Be back in five minutes,' she cooed, while her hands flounced the folds of her dress back and forth. She wanted to roll her eyes at the ridiculously childish action, but that too was denied her.
'Sort him out, Vi, and make it snappy. You know how Eleanor hates these stuffy affairs. She's been looking at her watch for the past half hour and snapping everybody's head off.'
Violetta knew the feeling. Wanting to grind her teeth painfully together, she instead formed a bright smile of farewell and gave Con a little wave as her feet began to move once again. Her hands itched to run themselves through Con's fine, sandy hair as she often did in a manner of friendly affection, but she had no control of them tonight. Walking off into the distance, towards the soulless black of midnight, it felt bizarre to realise that she wasn't in the least bit afraid. Even her emotions were under his command. It was a sombre, if not somewhat dismal thought. Did she have a hope in hell of getting out of this mess? Positive thinking, she berated herself. Where there was a will... there had better be a way, because she was far too young to die.
The sounds of chatter faded away slowly as her feet searched for a secure landing place on the soft grass. The beautifully groomed gardens were the reason the Green Castle, or Castello Verde, had acquired its name. In the daylight, they were truly stunning and home to all manner of flora and fauna. At night, twinkling solar lights kept the pathways alive but the vibrant colours of the flowers were snuffed out. Petals hid, stamens cowered in their protective green casings, and everything took on shades of grey and black. It could pretty much be the state of her own continued wretched existence, if Martinet were to be believed. Speaking of the vamp, where on earth was the guy? As her eyes scanned left and right, there was not even the merest flicker of movement that could be detected in the humid night air. There was barely a breeze, very little noise, and it left her feeling eerily... alone. Spinning around in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, she confirmed what she already knew. The place was deserted. Maybe he had decided to let her go after all? Maybe the beast had the tiniest twinge of conscience and... Her thoughts broke off abruptly as a figure flew from the rooftops and landed behind her. Before she could recover from the shock, an arm flew round her neck in a tight arc and began constricting her airway.
'Drop that pretty little glass vial you've got hidden away in your right hand. Now.'
That the voice and arm belonged to Martinet was not in question. He injected the words into her ear with such rancour that she wondered if he'd kill her there and then. A few seconds of terrorised silence passed. His grip tightened around her throat. As she gurgled in protest, her hand stubbornly clutched the precious little bottle even more tightly because it might be the only lifeline she had left.
'You're a tenacious little chit, aren't you?' he growled as he shook her body forcibly. 'Do you really want me to employ "other" tactics?'
She burbled insensibly as he began to cut off her air supply, but she didn't drop her precious cargo. If he was going to kill her, then it would be better if it were sooner rather than later.
'You surprise me, Miss...' He let the sentence hang in mid-air and Violetta felt him give her a push to answer it. She held on to the words that threatened to erupt from her lips, even though it was a hard won battle.
He frowned. 'I'll stamp that wilfulness out of your body, Violetta. Mark my words. All you are doing is waving a bright red banner in front of my face saying "spank me", and the outcome for your arse, delectable though it may be, isn't looking good.' Sarcasm dripped off his tongue.
While Violetta did not respond to his words, she did stop struggling. The intelligent part of her brain said that the action was worthless, for his strength more than quadrupled hers. Feeling her hands shake around the smooth glass vial and a bead of sweat drip down her neck, she wondered why he didn't just pluck the offending item from her fingers and smash it against the wall. He was more than capable of such a feat.
'Ah, but where would be the fun in that? It's much more amusing to watch you do my dirty work for me, and the more painful and unpalatable you find my ideas, the better.' His arm softened around her throat, but she did not feel in the slightest bit relieved. 'Last chance, Vi. Drop the bottle.' Her spine stiffened at the use of her nickname, which had previously been reserved for friends, but her backbone did not waver. She would not drop her little present. He would have to take it from her. Smiling darkly at the thought, she imagined throwing the contents of the tiny tube all over his body and watching as his skin blistered and burned.
'Oh, I think not, precious,' he purred into her ear, and with his free hand, he ran his fingers through the tempting, glossy red waves of her hair. Without warning, his fist closed around a handful of her locks and yanked tightly downwards. Her head flew back sharply and her eyes immediately connected with two bright blue orbs that had danger written all over them.
'Your face looks so much better when it's immersed in pain. Not quite so smug now, are we?' His breath tickled her ear as his hand purchased an even tighter grip on her hair. The roots in her scalp began protesting at the cruel treatment. 'Drop it. Now.'
Violetta's head stung furiously as he forcibly tried to wrench several follicles out at once, but still she retained her tight grip on the bottle. 'What's to stop me from flicking the cork stopper out of this bottle and throwing the contents all over you?' She asked the question in a saccharine-sweet voice laced with irony. They both knew he would not take the bottle from her. It was far too risky.
Sighing, Martinet released her hair and the impressive grip he had maintained around her neck before walking backwards a couple of steps. She waited for something to happen, but the whole world had gone silent and the only thing she could hear was the sound of her strained breathing and a heartbeat that felt like it had just witnessed a murder. On the plus side, she guessed he had released his hold on her. Turning around slowly, she watched his steely gaze bearing down upon her. Her internal organs began to liquefy.
'Afraid, Violetta? What's stopping you?' He took another casual step back and lifted his arms in the air, as if urging her to do her worst. If that was the way he wanted to play things, so be it. Her thumb flicked at the cork stopper. Whilst there was probably only twenty centilitres of water held inside the small tube's confines, it would be enough. With a little hiss, the cork popped free and there she was, holding her escape ticket, just a few scant inches away from her prey. All she needed to do was throw it. A quick flick of the wrist and her nightmare of an evening would be over. She would watch him writhe and roll around the floor in the throes of agony and not feel the slightest bit of remorse knowing she had delivered his last steps upon the planet earth. He was a monster that needed to be stopped. She was a trained huntress. She had been primed for this moment for the last ten years of her life. It was time to put that training to good use. She thrust the contents of the vial at him.
Chapter 3
The Duchess
IT WOULD HAVE been more accurate to say she tried to thrust the contents of the vial at him. Her brain sent down the order to her arm as requested, but her body did not compute the signal or perform the action required. Martinet had her fingers fixed in place and she couldn't move a single one of them.
'Have I scared you, Princess?'
Her eyes narrowed, and whilst she knew it was foolish to taunt him, she couldn't resist the impulse.
'Do I look scared?'
He raised his eyebrows and glowering contempt descended upon her. The look he wore left her breathless with anticipation. Anticipation of what, she had no idea... but her body was certainly looking for something.
As his lips formed a wry smile, she cursed herself for not trying to cover her thoughts. It was little wonder Martinet did not have a bride, for he would have been an insufferable husband to live with. A snort of laughter confirmed he'd heard her comment.
'Oh, you think so?' He smirked at her and unleashed the full power of his eyes upon her. She felt her blood go cold, ice literally flowing through her veins as he locked down her body. The control he could wield with his mind was terrifying in the extreme. Even her vocal cords had been paralysed and try as she might, not a whisper could escape her lips.
'No, precious, you can stand there and listen to me for a moment,' he said. 'You're going to have to get used to listening to me, so we'll start practising now. You only get to speak when I ask you a direct question. That's rule number one. There will be many more, if you don't prove too tiresome, but that will do for the time being.' He moved forward slowly and caressed her cheek with one of his long, elegant fingers. 'Insufferable, you think?' He bit his lip and laughed merrily. 'That's not something I remember ever having been called before - stubborn, demanding, and boorish, perhaps, but never insufferable. Most women would happily form a queue to warm my bed.'
He looked at her for a moment, assessing her, as if he knew she was desperate to loose her tongue upon him, before taking pity on her and granting the boon of speech. 'You may give me your thoughts, precious,' he said, and his patronising tone said it knew exactly what she was about to lavish upon him.
She did not disappoint. 'I am not one of them,' she spat with such venom it would have made a viper proud. 'I do not want to share your bed. I do not want your horrible hands anywhere near me, and I will always, always be looking for a way to kill you. You'll develop a twitch because of me, Martinet.' She returned his grin in the most unpleasant fashion she could muster.
'A twitch? And why would I be developing one of those, sweet pea? Do tell?' It was obvious he found her antics terribly amusing.
'Because you'll be permanently looking over your shoulder.' Her teeth snapped shut together on the last syllable, indicating she meant business.
He snorted in amusement, though, which diffused her tough statement somewhat. 'I'll have you dribbling at my feet in no time, Violetta. I have a one hundred per cent success rate with women and I don't expect you will prove the exception to the rule. You may take a while to train, but you'll get there eventually - on your hands and knees, of course.'
