Broken (The Captive #5.5)
Erica Stevens
CHAPTER 1
June 1, 1050
I had the strangest encounter today. Camille and I were in the woods when we ran across them. At first I was frightened that humans, or even perhaps Marie had stumbled upon us, but they were only two male vampires. Neither of us had ever met them before but that's not difficult to believe as judging by their fine mounts and the quality of their clothing, they were aristocrats.
They were both exceedingly handsome but there was something about the one…
I'm going to sound like a silly girl when I write this, but the minute I saw him I felt this strange pull to get closer to him. That's not something that could ever happen, he is an aristocrat and my life is far too messy.
He had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen. They were the color of clover on a warm spring day, and he had a heartwarming smile. Camille thought I was rude to them, but then I had expected cruelty or even derisiveness from them, I hadn't been expecting kindness. I don't know him and yet when he smiled at me I could almost forget about every horrible thing in my life. When he smiled at me, there was no sadness or anger and hurt. There was no Marie and this hideous place.
There was simply just him.
Ugh, I guess I am just a silly, silly girl. I know better but for the first time in my twenty-two years of life I find myself eager to see a man again, and it's because of him, it's because of Atticus.
***
"I'm already tired of England," Merle muttered as he swung his six-foot-two frame onto the back of his white stallion. He groaned as he took up the reins and tugged at his brown tunic to settle it into place.
Atticus laughed as he grabbed the reins of his bay stallion, Drago and settled more comfortably in the saddle. Even though he was larger than Merle, he sat easier in the saddle than his cousin did. Merle had always been more at home on the sea than he had been on land. Two years ago, they had each spent three months living amongst the vampire Norsemen in order to learn more of their superior ships and sailing ways. Atticus enjoyed being at sea and was an excellent sailor, but Merle loved the sea and thrived while he was on it.
"Tired of the rain, my friend?" he inquired.
"Tired of the rain, the boredom, the small minded and judgmental people and vampires alike. Ugh the people," Merle said with a roll of his eyes.
"And where would you prefer to be?"
"You know where."
Yes, Atticus knew Merle would prefer to be sitting on the beach of the Mediterranean and lavishing in the wine and women. Unfortunately, their fathers had other plans for them, and so did the rest of the aristocrats, as more infighting amongst them had resulted in the murder of the newly appointed king. King Harry hadn't even lasted three months on the throne, a new record according to Atticus's father, before he had been slaughtered by four of his own attendants while he slept. The vampire aristocrats believed the attendants had been paid to commit the murder. However, the vampire that had paid for the murder remained a mystery as the attendants had all conveniently disappeared afterward.
The attendants were being hunted by every vampire from here to India and China, but Atticus had a feeling they were all already dead and that their bodies would never be found. Just as he suspected that the payees had been the aristocrats themselves. Harry hadn't been overly popular and he'd been looking to make changes to a system that few wanted changed. Harry should have known that he was aggravating the noblemen, but he'd been ambitious. His last suggestion of raising taxes and promoting more vampires to a position of nobility seemed to have been the straw that broke the old aristocrat's backs.
To him, all of the political intrigue and inner fighting of the aristocrats was about as interesting as dirt. Like Merle, he would have much preferred to be in Italy than the rainy shores of England. Unfortunately, now that he and Merle were both twenty-five their fathers had decided it was time they became involved with the royal vampire court. He would have preferred to be kicked in the head by a horse than listen to the old vampires prattle on about policy, but he had no say in it, not anymore. As the oldest and only child of his father, he had known that this day would come, but he'd been hoping for a few more years of relative obscurity before being tossed into the wolves' den.
It wasn't to be, but at least the two of them were able to get away for these couple of hours to do some hunting now that the rain had finally eased. Gray skies and heavy clouds hung over them as they made their way into the woods at a brisk trot. Merle sat straight in the saddle before him, the misty air had caused his sandy blond hair to curl at the edge of his wool tunic. Atticus was five months older than Merle and at six-foot-four, he had a good two inches and at least twenty pounds on his cousin. They were still well matched when they wrestled or battled with their staffs, but it was only a matter of time before his strength surpassed Merle's completely.
It was more than just his height and weight he had as an advantage over Merle, but also his pure bloodline that would eventually make him superior in strength and speed. A bloodline of which he was the last of since his mother, Sabine, had been killed twenty years ago. A jealous lover had staked her through the heart when she'd been dressing to return to her husband and child. She'd been buried in the family plot in Transylvania, but Atticus had never been to her grave and he doubted he ever would.
Her death hadn't been overly upsetting at the time; he'd rarely seen her as a child, but his father had taken his revenge upon her lover. Atticus wasn't foolish enough to believe that his father had done it because he loved his mother, but rather he'd done it to salvage his pride, which had been wounded by the fact that the man had killed his wife.