Chapter 6

AFTER BRINGING her home, Blake drew her a bath. Vivienne finally started to wake up as he went to help her undress. She made her best effort to sit up while he peeled the blood-stained dress off her slender body. Blake adverted his eyes as he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. Even though they had been married, these past few days — he felt as though he was meeting her for the first time. Vivienne clutched his arm, seemingly for dear life, as he lowered her into the waters of the recessed, rose marble tub. The sword had weakened her. Although she had no physical wounds to show for it, he imagined she would need days to recover completely. He cupped the back of her head with his hand as he washed the blood off her lips and chin.

Blake had never helped anyone bathe before, and it was a strange feeling like he was taking care of a small animal that was solely his responsibility. In his household, there were servants for everything. He had barely seen his own father and mother except at a formally orchestrated meal time. The closer he got to this woman in his arms, the more difficult it would be to keep his promise to Alesandra. He could have protected a simple girl like Vivienne Minthe from the other families but to protect Melody Balan, that was another task altogether.

At that moment, he couldn't think about all those pesky details. All he could focus on was the feeling of her breasts pressed against his forearm, the sensation of her wet, bare skin against his calloused palm. He couldn't meet her eyes as he washed the blood from her long swan-like neck and lush, delicate breasts. The steam of the tub water rose around them, enveloping her naked body like the morning fog. He could almost imagine she was still just Vivienne, his beloved wife, the sharer of all his secrets, and the guardian of his well-concealed heart.

She wasn't. Even at that moment, he felt the hardness and the conniving focus behind her icy blue eyes. Even as he took the washcloth and tenderly, caressingly, washed the cuts on her lower back. As he pressed down into the red flesh, she quivered with pain. Even then, he still sensed the Balan coldness inside her. He knew in letting his heartache for her he was falling once again into Gabriel Balan's trap. Her father was selling her to some cruel foreign aristocrat like a common whore as though that would send him into a rage to protect her, save her, as though she was still his wife.

But, despite the intoxicating beauty of her body and the persistent lovingness of her gaze, he knew the Vivienne he had known, had never existed. The words she spoke to him were not hers; it was all an act by a talented charlatan. How many times must she and her father have laughed at him? When Gabriel Balan came to visit his mother Odelia when he was a child, did the patriarch meet with Melody? Did Gabriel direct her to target him, to win his trust, and to poison his thoughts with revenge? She was only a child of eight years of age, how could she have played the part so convincingly? Oh, the irony, that even as Blake turned away from Eden Catesby out of his hatred for the Great Families, he was pouring his heart out to Melody Balan.

When he reached for her in his dreams after she was gone, did she speak to him with the voice of her father? When he married her after she came back to him, telling him, she didn't care that he was a cripple, was that all a ruse too? Was any of it real? Was it all for the purpose of Balan obtaining the Sword of Nüwal because Blake was too stupid as a child to conceal his abilities?

Blake wondered if Glenn was right when he assured him that she hadn't known. She thought she was actually Vivienne, the insignificant English professor's daughter. If that were true, Blake truly felt sorry for her. She was ripped from her family and friends, thrust into a harsh and brutal life she was completely untrained and unprepared for. Now, she was in the company of a man she had ruthlessly betrayed.

"You've never done this before; have you?" Vivienne asked, with a knowing look in her eyes. She always had that way of tilting down her chin and looking up at him with her large, innocent eyes that made him want to forget everything else in the world. She really had perfected her charade. Vivienne leaned against the side of the recessed marble bathtub as he went to retrieve a towel.

"You mean use this particular bathtub?" He asked in jest. "True, I thought it was decorative."

"I mean wait on someone like this," she said. "All your servants and underlings would probably be quaking in their boots worrying about their job security if they knew you were here taking care of me yourself, Lord Thorne."

"As loyal as my people are, if they see you like this - with all the blood and scars - they'll think I am either abusive or have some very strange sexual tastes."

Blake helped her out of the drop-in tub and onto the rose marble steps to sit. He was trying with all his inner strength not to look at her breasts that were glistening and flush with color from the bathwater. He struggled not to allow his eyes to drift down to the hollow of her abdomen and the succulent swell of her hips. Then there was the territory between her thighs and the hair around her feminine crease that was glistening with the bathwater. He wanted to slap himself out of his helpless arousal. Directing his eyes away, awkwardly, he fumbled as he wrapped the towel around her narrow shoulders.

"You can look," Vivienne said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "It's not as though you've never seen me naked."

He didn't respond to that and instead picked up a hand towel to wipe the droplets of water from her forehead and cheeks. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful, even now, even knowing who she was. Even her mouth, the way her lips seem to arch up ever so slightly like a pair of fish fins, as though she was perpetually waiting for a kiss. As he studied her face, her lips parted slightly, and he felt her warm breath on his fingers. As he stared at her mouth, he felt drawn to kissing her despite knowing she was pure poison.

"You'll never forgive me, will you?" She asked as he dutifully held out a robe for her to put her arms through. Blake couldn't meet her eyes as he helped her tie the sash around her slender waist. She was always thin, but now she was alarmingly so. She hardly looked the part of a vicious princess of darkness who had gleefully planned his downfall. "I wish I could be Vivienne for you. I wish I could have been her forever."

She always knew exactly what to say to drive that dagger deeper into his heart. "Come," Blake said, coldly, as he wrapped his arm around her waist to help her up. "You need your rest. It's better if you eat something too. I wouldn't want you to die in my care. You are, after all, my hostage right now."

She laughed at that as though he was joking. He wasn't, but he decided not to dampen her mood further with details regarding his plans. Blake helped her into her old bedroom and eased her into bed, one leg at a time. He immediately covered her legs with the white, silk sheets. Even the sight of her feet that she always held tautly and pointed like a ballet dancer distracted him. He wanted to kiss the hollow of her ankles, hold her dainty heels, and slowly ease her legs open. He looked away to clear his thoughts. Turning away he walked to the door where a maid was waiting with a tray of soup and bread.

The maid came in and set the self-standing placed the tray on Vivienne's lap. As the maid bowed and left, Blake saw Vivienne's hand shake as she reached for the utensils. He sighed and pulled a seat up beside her. He really had never done this before, feed someone else. But he guessed he deserved this, after all, she had acted against her father, Gabriel Balan, to protect him. He dipped the spoon into the soup and lifted it to her lips. She stared into his eyes as she drank it. As he continued to feed her, her eyes filled with tears again but she smiled through them.

"You're not very good at this prisoner thing," she said.

Blake took the tray and set it aside. He sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders. He sighed as he held her close. Was she really trying to make him believe that she was so touched by a small act of kindness? As she muffled her sobs against his chest, he could only stare into the distance and pity her. She was no longer the feisty, spirited, ethereal girl he had once known. She was little more than a beautiful object for powerful men to fight over and to brutally claim.

Even as he reminded himself that her sobs were likely a ruse, his resolve started to weaken.

"It's time for you to tell me about Mighell and Nivarrin," Blake told her as he sat back. Absently, Vivienne ripped up a bread roll and stared at the pieces. The inviting smell of butter reached him, and he had to sit back. Blake barely had a second to contemplate how odd it was that he was tempted by food and not by the blood that had flowed freely from her nose and mouth seconds before.

"I met Mighell for the first time three months ago, he's a duke, but Nivarrin is full of smaller royals. He has a couple of mistresses, so he has virtually no interest in me except from a political standpoint. He's from a province called Jehan which was where my mother was supposedly from." Vivienne paused and then slowly continued. "My mother....stole something from them. She had the ability to absorb demonic power like I did. She stole one of their most treasured monsters, a demonic force named Villaris, and ran away. They say that the one who commands that demon will become a god of death. They think she had hidden it before she died and that I know where."

"Do you know where it is?"

Vivienne chuckled as she regarded him with sudden suspicion. "You too, Blake?"

"Stop it. You know how all of this works." Blake paused. "Maybe Gabriel is right; I need to stop asking you for permission. I need to simply take what is mine."

"You were testing him, weren't you?" Vivienne asked, carefully. "I know how you think. You were probing my father with your taunts because you wanted to know how much he knew about what you were capable of. Well, you should stop trying to get yourself killed. I never told my father any of your secrets. He doesn't know what you are capable of. I never asked you for your help with Nivarrin."

"I know," Blake said. "You must know that if it were simply a matter of saving you, I wouldn't hesitate to challenge Nivarrin. But that's not the issue at hand, is it? Your father is laying this challenge before me, to see how far I would go to save you. This is the first of all the requests he will make of me. If I do this for him, he'll never stop."

"Then stay out of it. And stop goading him. Don't make my father your enemy. I never told him about what you did to Maglania, about Tercel or even what happened in Aemon." Vivienne sighed and reached for his hand. She took his hand in hers and played with the Sarastri signet ring on his right hand. It was a large, heavy, and oppressive piece of gold. "I always knew, from the beginning, that you would be king. I rather like kneeling to you."

"Oh, you can kneel all night and day. I'm not fooled into believing you'll ever submit to me. If your father believes a beating will deter you from anything, he doesn't know you very well."

"You can't keep me here for long," she retorted in all seriousness. "Mighell is oblivious, but if he starts to protest, my father will have to send his forces to bring me back."

"Don't worry about your duke," Blake said. "I'll take care of him. Get some rest," Blake said as he kissed her on the top of her head like a child. Then he stood up and walked away. He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he walked out of the room. She probably felt betrayed that he was leaving her at such a vulnerable moment, but he couldn't bring himself to lie down beside her, not anymore.

Blake reminded himself of why he had brought her here as he left and closed the bedroom door behind him. He was going to use her to barter for his son. He just wished watching her meet the tragic end that her own parents had designed for her wasn't so difficult. She had betrayed him in every possible way, and she was decidedly not his wife, Vivienne. She deserved whatever it was Mighell or Gabriel had planned for her. Yet, as he slammed his fist into the desk inside his room, he couldn't stop the conniving thoughts that were already forming in his head. Perhaps, she would get what she deserved, but she would meet her dark end with his permission and his alone.