Castor
"What do you mean the enchantments on the blood roses aren't working?" Castor demanded, his fist slamming into the thorned armrest of his throne. Blood pricked from the point where the thorns had pierced him, but he hardly noticed.
"S-sorry, sir, we have tried everything, but ever since the curse ..." Geordian lowered his antlered head in a demure bow. "Well, not everything is working smoothly around the palace anymore. Magic isn't as reliable as it once was."
Castor leaned back into his throne, giving his rage a moment to dissipate. "I understand, Geordian. What is the problem? Is there anything we can do?"
He knew rationally that none of this was Geordian's fault. His best friend and confidant had been cursed alongside Castor and many of their close allies. Geordian himself bore the worse end of the spectrum in terms of how his appearance had twisted. His face was the shape of a wolf's head, but his eyes were those of a cat, and his mouth wide and almost lipless. A crown of antlers circled his head, their points pressing into his scalp, and his hands, if you could call them that, were encased in fur, with sharp claws protruding from the fingertips.
Meanwhile, Castor had escaped such a cruel fate. His handsome features had been altered but not monstrously. It was his heart and his mind that suffered far more than his physical body.
He felt the curse taking root, the rot spreading and becoming darker with each passing day.
Perhaps he would not entirely look the part of a monster, as Geordian did, but inside, he would be one.
Geordian bowed his head again. "The roses are still bleeding, sire, and we don't know the cause. It's like they are weeping in mourning, or perhaps in anticipation ..."
"Of course, the roses are expectant! My bride will arrive any day now, and everything must be perfect," Castor growled. "You tell them that if they keep bleeding all over the walls and causing trouble, I'll have them snipped at the bud and replaced with more cooperative roses."
Castor knew just how much Ianora adored blood roses, so he ordered the entire castle and grounds covered with them when he received news from Kel Eroch that their agreement had been solidified. They took years to properly groom and cultivate, but with the assistance of magic, they had fully grown and bloomed much faster. Only, with magic being less reliable in the castle since the curse, the roses gaining sentience and causing problems was only one of the many issues that plagued the palace.
Worse still, the curse seemed to have targeted the roses, in particular, covering Castor's beautiful and intimidating palace with deadly, thorned vines inside and out. It had taken the servants days to clear the hallways and convince the roses to stretch their vines out in places that weren't in the way of the occupants of the palace.
"As you say, sire, that should surely get the roses to comply." Geordian bowed, though they both knew it wouldn't work. The roses were enhanced with magic, and none of the witches enslaved in the castle could do anything to manage the out-of-control flowers. Everything was out of hand.
And they had only a week before Ianora would belong to Castor forever.
He'd dreamed of her every night for the last thirty-four years. Her jasmine and rose scent haunted him. Her soft blonde hair and even softer lips ... he had been so close to making her his back then, only for her to break his heart.
It felt as though a lifetime had passed since he last laid eyes on her in person.
She had skillfully eradicated him from her life in a single day. All because he made the mistake of falling in love with her.
What kind of cruel punishment was that?
She toyed with his heart, made her believe she could be his one and only, and then disappeared without a trace. At least, as much as a princess could disappear. Oh, he'd heard plenty of stories about her flirting and courting other men over the years, getting too close to them for comfort. Many he'd either gone so far as to intimidate them into disappearing from her life or eliminating them from the equation if they didn't bow out peacefully.
Because whether Ianora had known it or not back then, or throughout the years, she was his. She always had been his.
Now, when she arrived at his palace, he would make sure she knew that he owned her. Mind, body, and soul—he would make her remember.
He would make her pay.
No matter how painful it was for them both.
It was surreal, now, talking with Geordian about the final details of the wedding when he'd imagined Ianora as his bride for so long. Had she not rejected his proposal and disappeared, she would have been his thirty-four years ago.
There had been many times over the years when he doubted his ability to claim her for himself. Many times, he thought she might have become engaged to another man on the other side of the world, perhaps just to escape him for good.
But never did she follow through with any other match.
And he knew, from being close to Ianora for so long, that without a finalized marriage, she never would have given up her prized virginity to any man. Which meant, in one week, she would be all his. Forever.
He'd lusted after her ever since he first met her all those fateful years ago, long before she'd even given him the light of day. But he'd won her over then, even if she had, in the end, tossed him away like trash. However, despite the bad blood between their families, her father had been far easier to charm.
Soon, he would no longer have those restless dreams where he fantasized about reaching beneath her skirts and claiming the treasures beneath. He would simply be able to take her as much as he wanted. No, as much as he needed.
Because his need for Ianora was as visceral as his need to breathe, it was as visceral as his hatred of her. He needed to make her suffer for everything she'd put him through.
Geordian cleared his throat, drawing Castor's attention away from the blood beading on his palm. "Sire?" Geordie said carefully.
"Yes? What is it? Didn't I dismiss you?"
"I'm sorry, sire, but there is one more urgent matter in need of an immediate solution."
Castor groaned and leaned back against his throne. He'd already had the roses that once draped along the back snipped so they'd stop bleeding all over him. "What is it?"
"The ghost of Lady Mitron, sire. She's still haunting the rooms assigned to Princess Ianora until the wedding takes place. Should we change the princess' lodgings?"
Castor leaned against his palm, his elbow digging into the thorns on the armrest. "No. Tell Lady Mitron that—"
A flash of light and red energy burst throughout the room, and Castor shielded his eyes from the intense glow. He blinked, finding that, at the bottom of the steps leading to this throne, a black and red bead of light had come out of nowhere. It expanded up and around, shaping into a portal.
Within seconds, guards standing along the throne room's walls assembled closer to the portal, weapons at the ready to defend their king if necessary. Castor, meanwhile, stayed in his seat, at ease.
A woman stepped out of the portal. Blonde hair, stunning gray eyes, and a body Castor would have recognized anywhere.
Ianora.
She wore the most gorgeous gown of silver and gold silk, yet it clung to every curve. The silk hugged her body like a second skin, accentuating her every feature and leaving little to the imagination. Her skin was the finest porcelain, her lips like cherries he was eager to pluck and devour.
Her aura, however, was the finest of all. She glowed with the confidence of an ancient queen, everything about her glowing enough to light up the dark, dreary chamber.
It was only now, seeing Ianora again, that Castor realized just how colorless his life had been without her.
The portal flashed again, and out came a man behind her—a man whom it displeased Castor greatly to see with his future bride: the captain of the Rainadan military, Elan Voss. He came with nothing more than the clothes on his back, a silver sword strapped to his waist, and two silver and oaken trunks that looked like they belonged to the princess.
"Well, well, isn't this a lovely surprise?" Castor said, leaning back into his throne to better appreciate the lovely woman before him. "I expected you to wait until the last minute to arrive, darling. You always did enjoy being fashionably late to your own parties."
"Hmph." Ianora's steely gray eyes stole the minimal light in the room as they assessed the throne hall. "I can't say I'm pleased to see you at all, Castor. I hope this curse has brought you hell."
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Castor raised an eyebrow at her. "It does seem a little suspicious, doesn't it, that this mysterious curse falls upon the land just days after the agreement is finalized between your father and me?"
She laughed. Bright, cheery, like an angel's song. The sound made Castor's cold, hard heart flutter. "Me? You're sorely mistaken if you think I have any interest or mastery over the arcane arts. No. I had the intimate displeasure of learning about your plans for our wedding at the last possible moment. I suspect you had something to do with that."
"If it had been up to me, darling, I wouldn't have bothered you with an engagement at all, married you on the spot, so I could sooner have you in my bed." Castor licked his lips, appreciating the subtle curve of her hips and breasts from afar. "It was your mother who insisted you have at least a month to prepare yourself. Perhaps you should thank her."
Elan stepped forward, fire in his eyes. "How dare you speak to Princess Ianora Eroch that way? You might have secured her hand in marriage by treachery and force, but she is still an esteemed and noble princess. You will treat her with the respect she deserves."
Castor grinned. He had hoped to elicit a response out of Elan this way. Ianora was too clever to respond, but Elan was always a bit too much of a white knight to resist. "Once Ianora is my wife, I'll use her body however I see fit. Despite your 'progressive' laws about female autonomy in Rainada, the laws in Pheazar are different. As soon as we marry, she is my property, and I assure you, I intend to get my money's worth out of her."
Elan's sword flashed, and the silver light was the only warning Castor had before it was at his throat. He didn't move, act, or feel threatened by Elan's sudden appearance beside the throne. As powerful as he was, the vampire was little more than a chained dog in the princess's presence.
"One more word out of you," Elan hissed, "and I won't hesitate to finish you, damn the consequences."
"I would think twice about the 'damn the consequences' part of that. You do know what will happen to Ianora if she doesn't marry me, correct? If I die under suspicious circumstances, or less suspicious, in your case, the unwilling termination clause will still be in effect."
Castor didn't bother looking at Elan at all. The man wasn't worth his time. Instead, he looked at the delicious rage on beautiful Ianora's face. Oh, she was a vision of passion.
He wanted to see that look on her face while he buried his cock inside her. Just a few more days, and then he could have her any way he wanted.
"Stand down, Elan," Ianora said, her voice just as hard and cold as Castor's as she stared at him.
Gods, that look. His cock bulged in his pants with a fury, and it was all he could do but imagine what it would feel like to be inside her finally. Would she scream with joy or rage?
Would she fight him or let it happen?
Or better yet, would she fuck him out of spite?
"I will gladly kill him for you, Your Highness," Elan said, "but I can't protect you from the consequences if he dies before the wedding. I apologize for letting my emotions get the better of me."
"There's no need to apologize for wishing to kill this pathetic excuse of a man," Ianora said, not taking her eyes off Castor. "I too, dream of slitting his throat. Alas, death is not yet in the cards for my future husband."
Elan withdrew the blade from Castor's neck, sheathing the sword in one swift motion and returning to Ianora's side.
"I am so pleased that you're willing to restrain yourself on my behalf, darling. I'd hate to be dodging daggers to my back while eagerly awaiting our wedding night. You are looking forward to that too, aren't you?"
Ianora's eyes flashed, and her hands so subtly clenched at her sides. "As much as any lamb looks forward to being devoured by a beast."
An unexpected bout of boisterous laughter bubbled from Castor's stomach, and he leaned further back to let it all out. "Oh, but you are no lamb, are you, darling? You're a wolf in sheep's clothing. You always have been. It's one of the things I've always admired about you. Had I seen it sooner, perhaps we would not be in this mess today. You would already be submissive in my bed."
"Is that all you care about? Bedding me?"
"Having you is about far more than that, no. Surely, your virginity will be a prize to savor, but ..." Castor trailed off, his eyes darkening as he stared at Ianora. She was so beautiful, and she used that beauty as a weapon as much as her words and wit. She was strong, too, as all truly worthy female vampires were. But her strength was something else entirely. It was more than physical. It would take a strong woman to tame him, and he wanted nothing more than to be tamed by her.
"What?" she demanded, clearly not liking the way he was looking at her.
"You're going to be my wife, Ianora," he said softly, "and I am going to make you bend to my will. You will scream my name in ecstasy as I fuck you senseless, and you will beg me for mercy when I make you come until you can't take it anymore. Claiming you will be a victory unlike any other. A trophy I have spent nearly thirty-five years chasing. In one week, I will finally conquer the one woman who has always been out of my reach. This isn't just about your body, sweet Ianora. You will be mine in all ways."
"Never," she spat. "You might take my pride and my body, but you will never own my heart. My soul."
"We'll see about that. Forever is a very long time."
Her anger turned him on even more. He loved that she wasn't afraid to show her true colors around him. It made the game all the more fun.
"You're a disgusting man, Castor," Elan hissed. "It is a miracle you ever wormed your way into King Kel's esteem long enough to seal this arrangement."
"There was no worming necessary," Castor said sincerely. "I merely offered Kel the one thing he could never refuse. So much so, that he would beg to givemehis most prized possession, his daughter, to achieve it."
Castor steepled his fingers, examining Ianora and Elan closer. Neither of them responded, but despite the unflinching glare, Ianora would never miss the ammunition he'd just provided if she knew what it was. "So, you truly don't know what he traded you for?"
"No, and I don't care," Ianora said.
"You should, but that's okay. I tire of this conversation anyway. There's plenty of other days to discuss that particular detail." Castor rose to his feet, striding down two steps from his throne, closer to Ianora and Elan. "Regardless of why you decided to come early, I am pleased to see you. It will give us more time to reacquaint with each other, perhaps."
"There is no motive. I merely decided to surrender myself to you early because the magic used to seal the arrangement is impenetrable."
He smiled a pleased smile. "You would know, wouldn't you? I bet you tried everything, and you're here searching for another way out of the deal."
She was cold and calculating, a passionate creature hidden beneath those pretty eyes and dresses. She was perfection personified in one feisty bundle, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her, even after all these years apart, even though all that time had spoiled love into hate.
Just then, he realized the only reason she would have come early instead of basking in her last few days of freedom. "Oh, you don't possibly think you could convince me to cancel the wedding, do you? Darling Ianora, you must know better than that."
A sly smile spread across Ianora's face, and she shrugged her shoulders in a half-hearted attempt at innocence. "You accuse me of being so simple, Castor. Perhapsyoushould know better."
A deep chuckle rumbled through him. "Guards, escort Elan out of the castle and to a portal back to Rainada," Castor said. "The princess will not be in need of his services."
Her demure mask at once dropped into a visage of alarm. "What? No! You can't send him away. I have the right to a bodyguard until our wedding night."
"On the contrary, my love, you do not need a bodyguard at all. I cannot harm you physically, nor can I order anyone to do you ill on my behalf. Every guard in this castle has the explicit instructions to die before harm comes to you by an outside party. You will not come to any injury in my palace, and that is how it should be. Elan is dismissed."
"He will stay with me until the wedding," Ianora said, this time more firmly. She stepped closer to Elan as if she needed him to protect her, but Ianora was no docile princess in need of a bodyguard.
She had her fair share of blood on her hands.
And he was going to have a delicious time breaking her now and after their wedding night. He wanted to make her see the true damage her actions had caused. Not just to him ... but what she'dmadehim do when she broke his heart.
"Let me reiterate," Castor said as he closed the rest of the distance between them. "Elan Voss will leave of his own free will, or I will take every measure necessary to ensure that you never see him again." He tilted his head toward Elan, who was fuming on the spot. "I cannot hurt you, my love, but that protection doesn't extend to Elan. He is not your blood."
Ianora's face paled, and she looked between Castor and Elan before, at last, she said. "Very well. Elan, it seems I will not be needing your services any longer."
"Princess, I can handle—"
"Elan, please. This is a battle we cannot win."
He bowed, so sickeningly obedient that he was. "As you say, princess."
"Guards," Castor prompted. "Show him out."
As soon as Elan was dragged away, it was just Castor, Ianora, and a handful of guards left. He came closer, breathing in her sweet jasmine and cinnamon scent. She tensed when he touched the small of her back and guided her toward the large set of stone doors at the front of the hall.
"Well, then, princess, how about the grand tour? My treat."