The Knight Of The Rose (39 page)

his hands fell loosely over them, but not blocking the one pl ace
no
man is immune to pain. Then,

with every ounce of force I could muster from my weakened body, I lifted my foot and slammed it

down into Jason’s groin.

A balk of anguish gurgled in his throat and he folded over; I jumped to my feet , tripping on

my dress and stumbling forward before using my hands to push up from the ground again.

I ran, ignoring the sear of pain in my finger as I hoisted my dress above my feet and fought

for each step I took.

He’s down, don’t look back—don’t turn your head, Ara. Just run! Run!

My legs pulled me—dragged me fast under th e fear; I pictured the face of anger on the

vampire behind me, feeling the crawl of my skin as I imagined him rising to his knees and watching

me run. The trees outlining the field came closer—reached out to me with welcoming arms of

protection, but skinny dregs of pine needles made my feet slip as I reached the border.

“Get back here you little bitch!” Jason roared from behind me.

With all of my strength, I made my feet move faster. The cold air burned the back of my dry

throat as I drew a breath to yell, “Hel—” But my body shot backward, stopping abruptly with a jolt

around my neck. The iron grip of the vampire cut any hope of escape and muffled my scream—only

a whimper survived, lost to the empty silence of the dark night. No one would hear it—I was too

late. I dropped to my knees—trying to loosen his hold, gurgling under the choking intensity.

“You cannot escape a vampire. It is futile to even try.”

A series of consonants rol led from the back of my throat as I struggle d to breathe, feeling

my nose and cheeks fill with blood—enough to make me think they were going to pop open.

While I struggled for life, the voices of the hunters came so close that I could hear their

private chatters and the instructions being called out to each one from the voice of my fi ancé. I

wanted to call to them, to tell them I was here, but they would come, they would find me, and they

would all die . The best I could hope for was that they’d come
after
he killed me, so my corpse

would not be forever a mystery—bones in five hundred years—discovered by an archaeologist.

But if they found me, Mike would never be able to erase that image from his mind. I fought

with myself—trying not to cry, to make any noise, to do anything that might give away our position.

Jason squeezed my throat tighter as I wormed my fingers under his.

Please, Jason,
I said in my thoughts,
You’re hurting me
.

“Do you think I care? If I had any compassion for your adversity before—you just destroyed

it,” he said quietly against my cheek. “Now your blood and your body will no longer be enough to

satiate my thirst for revenge.”

My head hit the ground, the blood rushing into my skull before his hand released from my

throat. Not a second passed before the grass turned to sky as the vampire grabbed my shoulder and

flipped me onto my back, landing between my legs. I felt so small, compressed against the sticky,

prickly lawn by the weight of his entire body. “I’m going to hurt you in the worst way

possible before I kill you, Ara.”

“No!” I nudged my elbows into his chest, but he separated my hands in his tenuous grip and

forced them onto either side of my head. “Please—please don’t?”

“Keep begging, human—it turns me on.”

My eyes, tearing to blindness, held the plea he wanted from me. I wanted to yell, to scream,

to be strong and fight him, but he held my hands above me, tight in his eagle-claw grip while the

other traced a long line down the centre of my body.

“I promise, if you hold st ill, I will only hurt you enough to make you cry.” Jason grabbed a

handful of my dress, twisting i t slightly before ripping it away with one pull, leaving my skin bare

to the cold grass underneath me. “After all,” he looked down at my underwear , “you are a virgin,

are you not? There are bound to be a few—rips.”

Panic stole my breath; I closed my eyes and turned my head. “That’s r ape, Jason—that’s

worse than murder.”

“Precisely.”

I looked back at him, feeling my soul draw away inside when I saw the sincerity in his eyes.

“Please don’t.”

“You did this to yourself, Ara.”

No. No.
I shook my head.
No, please.
Deep inside me, I called on the training Mike gave

me—so many times he made me pr actice this with him—how to escape from this kind of situation,

but I couldn’t find it. It was gone. All of it.

I kicked my heels into the ground and rocked my whole body from side to si de as Jason

fought to steady me in one place.

No. Don’t do this.

“It’s too late for pleas. Now, stop struggling.” He jammed the full force of his elbow onto

my shoulder; I cried out, unable to move my u pper body anymore. “Shut up. Just stop trying to

scream.” His palm forced me into silence— only a quivering sound of terror hummed through my

tightly pressed lips.

Oh, please, no—please don’t
, I begged in my mind.

Jason just smiled and traced a gentle circle around the top of my underwear. I closed my

eyes—tried to escape to someplace else in my mind.

“I’m going to enjoy thi s.” He repositioned himself, but when several voices called into the

clearing, we both f roze. The hand over my mout h became yellow under tor chlight for a single

second, while beams of salvation flashed across the dark grass surrounding us.

“Look over here.” I didn’t recognise the voice. “I thought I saw something.”

“Ara?” Mike called.

My heart skipped. I looked up just as Jason looked down at me.

Please don’t kill him, Jason. Please don’t.
Oh God. I wish he’d ju st taken me far away. I

can’t die knowing Mike will, too.

“If he finds us—he has to die. All of them do,” Jason stated factually and released the hold

on my mouth.

“No. Please. Please, don’t kill them? Do what you want with me, but,
please
just let them

live?” I begged, staring into his softening eyes.

His brow pulled tightly together and he gently rolled my shoulders off the ground, clutching

my face close to his chest. “Shh. Okay, just hold tight.”

Before I had a chance t o react, he flung, like a rocket, into th e trees outlining the field. My

stomach jumped into my throat; I wrapped my fingers around his jacket tightly as we landed on the

long limb of the tallest tree—what seemed like miles off the ground.

Jason watched the men scour the scene below, before looking back at me. “Hm, I’m in the

mood for a litt le game—and since you won’t be needing this,” he said in an unsettlingly smoot h

tone, then reached behind my back with both hands.

My hands shot up to cover my chest as my bra came loose, leaving a cool feeling around my

ribs. Jason dangled the thin lace fabric over the edge.

“It will make an interesting discovery for your replacement.”

We both watched as, like ribbon on the breeze, my delicates floated to the earth below—a

part of me finally to touch the hands of the man I love once more.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” I whispered.

Jason looked down at my cros sed arms, and smiled softly—the kind of smile David would

use. “Are you cold?”

I hadn’t felt it before, but while the hope of rescue faded, the cold had seeped in. I nodded

softly.

“Here.” Jason lifted me into his arms and wrapped my body ar ound him; my legs on either

side of his hips; my chest against the silky fabric of his suit. Perfect position to scratch his eyes out.

“Be nice, young Ara, and you shall live longer.”

“Stop trying to kill me, and I’ll be nice,” I said.

He ignored me, making my skin crawl with the gentle caress of his fingers down my spine.

“Right now, I am not trying to kill you.”

“No, but you shouldn’t hold me this way—I don’t belong to you.”

“But you want to belong to me.” His words came out with a smile.

“You’re just confusing my mind—it’s not real.”

“It’s as real as you want it to be.”

I went to speak, but stopped because the truth frightened me. I do want him. I want him to

touch me. I want him to move his lips from their gentle caress over my shoulder, to the purlieu of

my mouth, and kiss me. I rolled my neck to the side and closed my eyes, letting the gentle tickle of

his lips make my body shiver—a good shiver.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “You have the sweetest scent. I shall enjoy tasting your blood.” But,

his softness stopped suddenly. He gripped the flesh above my thighs tightly—too tight—then drew

a deep breath against the curve of my neck. “This will make a nice memory to show my brother.

The way you hold me—like you love me; the way your arms embrace me as if I were him.”

“In my mind—it is him,” I whispered.

“I’ll not have it.” He abruptly pulled my chest away from his. “I’ve waited too long for this.

When you scream for mercy, it will be
my
name on your lips! You will die by
my
hand.”

“Good, because if you do kill me, then my imagining you to be him will become a reality!” I

tried to scoop my own words back in as I saw the anger they created in his eyes.

“I am
nothing
like him.”

“An eye for an eye says otherwise.”

Like a flash going off in my face, my mind blanked for a second—my hand falling to catch

me on the branch when Jason whipped the back of his wrist across my cheek.

The shock of his slap was worse than the pain, but I wanted so badly to cr y out—to call to

the hunters below—to David. To yell out and beg him to save me. “Why hasn’t he come?” I said to

no one in particular, then dropped my hand from my face as the burn of the slap turne d to a tight

tingle. Surely Dad called him, told him I was taken? Why hasn’t he come to save me?

“I’m sorry.” Jason touched my shoulder. “It i s horrible that he made you beli eve you meant

something to him.”

I looked up, livid with spite and said, “I meant everything to him.”

“But, yet, you r efer to yourself in the past tense. So, you understand then, that vampires

move on?”

“I—“ I wiped my cheek on my shoulder, trying t o blot away the last of his slap, “—I don’t

know.” Below, the voices of the hunters became louder, and dogs barked savagely, leading them in

the direction of the tree we were perched in.

“Oh, look.” Jason pointed down. “Your replacement has unearthed a clue.”

I turned my head right at the moment that Mike, just below the tree, dr opped to his knees. In

open palms, he held t

he lacy fabric, his shoulders shaki

ng as he whimpered, almost

incomprehensibly, “Oh, baby. What has he done to you?”

“Mike!” Emily ran up behind him, barely able to speak through her panting. “What di d you

fi—” but her words stopped shor t as her steps slowed. “What...what is that?” As realisation set in,

she hesitantly placed an awkward hand to Mike’s shoulder and squatted beside him.

I looked away; my li mbs ran hot with shame—to know what Mike would be thi nking—and

my heart picked up with longing—for how close they were to me, how, if my captor were human, I

could scream—I could be saved right now.

A numbing feeling of defeat swept over me. All I could control in my world were my own

tears, so I held them back—holding my breath as if that might keep them at bay. “You’re a monster,

Jason.”

“Let’s see if you can’t come up with a new name fo r me once I finish with you. Now...” He

gripped my throat firmly again and slowly rolled me backwar d onto the log-arm. “Shall we

continue?”

The scratch of bark on each bone in my spine meant nothing to me. I held onto the branch

with both hands, letting tears trickle down my temples and over my ears as I watched my Zorro walk

away—stumbling through his own, deep agony. Emily wrapped her arm around him, and his cries of

anguish faded as he melted into the shadows.

The rest of the hunters ran wildly across the clearing, shouting something about a blue dress

on the other side of the valley. As they disappeared, the emptiness their silence left behind took the

last promise of survival; I closed my eyes and said goodbye.

“Are you done feeling sorr y for yourself, now?” Jason asked, looking down at me wit h a

smug grin. “Can we finish what we started?”

I nodded and unclenched my finge rs from the branch t o wipe my cheek, but Jason grabbed

my wrist before I could remove the itch of salt.

“Ara?” He leaned really close. “Don’t scream.”

Would there be any point?

The vampire smiled warmly, placing his stiff, icy hand over my mouth. “That’s a good girl.”

It was only once he brought my wrist to his lips that I realised what he was going to do. The

scar on my other hand tingled—the one David left when he drank my blood—and as the moist touch

of Jason’s lips spread across my fl esh, my heart composed a muffl ed whimper of devastation; I shut

my eyes tight and held onto the branch, digging my nails in.

Like the first cut in the flesh of a peach, four razor pins pierced my skin with the same dull

pop my earring made earlier. The scream I promised not to release etched its way up my throat as the