Finding Fire

Chapter 22

When the silver chains were finally unlocked from around his burned and bloodied body, Nicolas was too sore to put up much of a fight. He still struggled, but it was to give the guards handling him a hard time.

His hands were quickly put into manacles on either side of him. The metal didn't burn immediately, but when he pulled, the fabric separating his skin from the silver stretched, and the burning came back to him. He was positioned so that he sat on the floor with his arms chained to his sides.

The footsteps grew fainter as the men who locked him up retreated, but he knew at least one guard was still in the room with him. His hood was pulled off him. He looked up at the man who stood over him. "Fredrick," he rasped out.

When Nicolas had still been in power, Fredrick and he had been close. He'd been one of Nicolas's most trusted men.

Fredrick knelt next to him. "Hello, old friend."

Nicolas didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say.

Fredrick continued, "I understand you don't want to talk. I wanted you to know that Aleksander hasn't planned what he's doing with you yet. He's reasonable. Don't give him any more reason to kill you."

Nicolas stared straight at the bars in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fredrick stand. He watched him leave and lock the cell door behind him as he walked out of Nicolas's vision.

He sat alone with his own thoughts. By now, he hoped Annabelle would be in the States, or at least getting close. If he could actually manage his way out of this situation, he would meet her back in the city.

He'd eluded the guards all night and found a cave that he knew well from his time in power here and then his time hiding in the woods. He'd even left a bit before sunset. He had no idea how he'd been found so quickly. It was as though the guards had already known where he would be.

He was curious as to why he wasn't killed right away. Fredrick said Aleksander didn't plan to kill him, but he didn't believe that for a second. He might have told his men that, but it was a lie. Aleksander was looking for a good time to kill him. It would appear to be self-defense, and he would come out looking good in front of all of his people.

There would be no more living blood relatives left to try to take the throne. It would be Aleksander's free and clear and would be passed on to the child of his new bride.

Nicolas wondered how many women had to die for Aleksander to turn a mortal. Nicolas had heard countless stories of failed transitions. He felt bad for the woman who had to live with a husband who would take those chances with her life.

Soon he heard someone approach and something metal scrape across the floor. A couple more strange noises, and then it was quieter. Just the gentle scraping of paper against paper. Then another. Was it pages of a book turning?

He concentrated harder, and what he heard was even more surprising. A heartbeat. A human heartbeat. A mortal sat right outside his cell. "Annabelle?" he called out. There was no answer.

He sniffed the air, and sure enough, he caught her scent. "Annabelle, what the fuck are you doing here?"

He was comforted by the fact that she was safe, but why the hell was she still here when he'd ordered her to go? Why didn't she run when he told her to? Then it hit him. The only reason she wouldn't run was if she could resist his compulsion. Which meant she knew what he had tried to do with her mind. She was definitely pissed.

How had she resisted? She'd had a lot of blood on her, but he'd assumed it was all her own. Obviously it wasn't all human blood. Damn it! He'd only been trying to keep her alive, couldn't she understand that?