Prolog

Over a millennium ago, an ancient race of beings sought to learn from another race they deeply cherished and divided their forces to do so without discovery. But time isn’t kind to explorers and many fell by the wayside, lost their way or became trapped and failed to return. Those who await their loved ones must now hunt for the absent heart of their existence or sacrifice their own lives.

 Chapter One

Dawn crept into the sky as the moon turned her face from the bloody throes wrought by a campaign of justice. Sunbeams glinted off non-bloodied areas of numerous mêlée weapons, shields and armor as the various metals lay scattered across the violent battlefield. Some combatants gulped their last breaths while the blood of others ceased to flow before night retreated. A severely wounded foe lifted his head and reached out, his gurgled cry a mere utterance, his attempted attack in vain.

Dawn crept into the sky as the moon turned her face from the bloody throes wrought by a campaign of justice. Sunbeams glinted off non-bloodied areas of numerous mêlée weapons, shields and armor as the various metals lay scattered across the violent battlefield. Some combatants gulped their last breaths while the blood of others ceased to flow before night retreated. A severely wounded foe lifted his head and reached out, his gurgled cry a mere utterance, his attempted attack in vain.

Heavily armored, his visor down, Mikeli inhaled the lingered tang of blood. “The scent of death is sweet victory.” The scrape of metal on his black greave garnered his attention. He tilted his head and pointed his sword at the struggling man’s throat. “Those unable to rise, die.” His blade shoved into the dying man’s neck, he strode past and freed his sword in the process. “Pass the order and find me the weakling Jazep.”

“Yes, Sire.”

As he strode into the castle yard and looked up, his gaze zeroed in on a young lady adorned in noble garb. His goal the heavily land-laden woman fixed in his view, he smirked. The scent of her fear tinged the air. Although the woman didn’t match the physical description, he innately knew her for her behavior. “Seize everything. It now belongs to me.” Her sprint down the upper walkway earned his lecherous chuckle. “Especially that prize.”

His stop ended in a slide, Fricis saluted. “The noble couple is cornered in the war room with several high ranking officials, my lord.”

Mikeli pointed with his sword toward where he last saw the fleeing beauty. “A young lady adorned in stately finery fitting the description of my new wife ran that way. Retrieve the lady and bring her to the war room so she may join us for negotiations.”

“Right away, my lord.” The guard signaled toward several soldiers. “Guards, follow me. Will be done fast, my lord.”

“I know.” He rested the flat of his blade on his shoulder and stepped through the splintered remains of the main doors. “Perhaps the next time one suggests you fortify your stronghold, you’ll listen instead of thinking yourself too mighty, Lord Jazep.” In all fairness, he did warn the noble idiot two days ago. His admiration of the marble floor brief, he nodded at two of his men who stepped from his path upon his entrance of the grand room. “Well, well, well. What a lovely sight.”

His sword unsteady, Jazep stepped back. “What do you seek?”

Mikeli yawned. “My wealthy lady wife.”

“Your what?”

“My rich and well-titled wife.”

Fricis entered the room, the struggling young woman’s elbows and wrists secured behind her with the assistance of another soldier. “Sire, I have your prize.”

Mikeli turned. “Ah, here’s the lovely creature now.” He nodded. “Lady Ilona.”

“She’ll put up a good fight, Sire.”

The bruise and cuts on his soldier’s cheek swiftly assessed, he ascertained the length and size of the utilized weapon. “So declares your split lip. I hope the involved mirror wasn’t one of her prized possessions.” His grin wicked, he swept his gaze over her slight figure and narrowed his eyes. “I anticipate our encounter, my lady.” He pivoted and faced the sword-wielding stronghold master. “Her for peace.”

Jazep lowered his sword point toward the ground. “You come into my home brandishing a blade adorned with the drying blood of my slain people and demand peace?”

“Oh, pardon me.” His maneuver swift, Mikeli stabbed his sword into a nearby official, withdrew his blade and eyed the finely honed metal. “Now it’s fresh blood.” He crossed the floor in two strides and aimed his blade point at the stronghold mistress’s heart. “Give me your daughter in exchange for an alliance or lose your lady wife, Lord Jazep.”

“M-my daughter is married.”

“No, she is widowed. You can give her to me and we can form an alliance or I can take her. Last chance.”

Haughty, Daina raised her head. “I arranged her marriage to an older noble of high ranking wealth years ago and she married last month on the day after her eighteenth birthday. If you murdered him, I will arrange a more suitable marriage with another noble, but certainly not with the likes of a baseborn lord like you.”

His sword steady, the arrogance in her voice too much, Mikeli locked his gaze on the stronghold mistress’s face. “And at merely four years older than the lady in question, I am a more appropriate match. Also, Lady Daina, rest assured I will never trade your daughter as payment for a debt.” He thrust his blade into her bosom, pierced her heart and withdrew in a single maneuver.

“No!” Ilona stared as her mother slumped to the floor and landed in a heap at the black plate mailed boots.

He turned his head and leveled his gaze on the young woman’s face. “Yes, my lady?”

“N-nothing.”

Her shuddered breaths shrugged off, Mikeli raised his weapon and aimed the steady point at the stronghold master’s heart. He smirked and the monarch’s dropped sword clattered to the ground. “Your answer, Lord Jazep.”

“Stop!” Ilona fought her bindings to reach the murderous fiend, but failed. “Please, dark lord.”

He turned his head and studied her tear-streaked face. “Pardon me, my lady, but I’m not quite certain I heard your words correctly.”

“I accept your terms in exchange for my father’s life.”

Jazep gasped. “Ilona, don’t—”

Mikeli redirected his gaze and raised his sword point to the stronghold master’s throat. “The lady and I are speaking. Be silent or I’ll detach your head from your neck.” He turned back toward the impressive young woman. “Make me your offer again, my lady.”

“Tell your lackeys to release me.” Her demand granted by his swift, but curt nod, Ilona stepped forward. “You asked for my hand in exchange for an alliance. I will grant such if you lower your sword, gather your forces and leave my father’s realm tonight.”

Delighted by her shiver, he lowered, cleaned and sheathed his blade. “Done.” He studied her expression. “You propose no further terms?”

“Need I do so?”

“No.” Mikeli sauntered to the slender woman and circled her like a predator assessing prey. He reached out, lifted a lock of her silky shoulder length dark auburn hair and examined the golden streaked highlights. The scent of meadow and horses filled his nostrils while he scrutinized her milk-soft tanned complexion. Deep brown eyes mesmerized him, until her coldness cut through him like an icy blade.

The fact her slight figure declared her easy to handle didn’t conceal his disappointment over her lack of promised curves. He peered down the front of her gown and hoped her small breasts filled well with milk when birthing his heir. His forefinger trailed over her cheek and across her thin lower lip. “The stories of your beauty lie. It’s a shame your virtue belonged to another for you do not meet my expectations in that manner.”

Ilona raised her chin. “I am the only daughter and heir of my father’s realm. Accept me or leave us.”

Mikeli proffered a slow smile. “Consider your offered accepted. We wed and consummate tonight. Go pack, wife.”

“As you demand.” She pivoted and stormed up the stairs.

His newest conquest’s tromp into the upper corridor earned his chuckle. When the swing of her auburn locks declared her agitation and her pride prickled, his certainty of her submission remained strong. “One way or another.” A wry smile spread across his face. He drew aside a guard and lowered his voice. “Filip, arrange an accompaniment of guards for the old man after we depart. In the meantime, take some men and help my wife pack. Take most of what she owns or wants. Make it quick.”

“Yes, my lord. Men.” Filip dashed from the room.

Mikeli wished her the one he needed above all else, but accepted that particular lady lost forever. The day his unfurled white wings blackened, crumpled and fell from his body, he surrendered his immortality. He closed his eyes at the remembrance of his beloved’s unexpected loss for on said day he fell cursed to remain a mortal and live until death claimed his soul.

Angry, he kicked aside a piece of rubble. He would not be here if not for his soul mate’s murderer who happened to be the murderous husband of the woman he now claimed. An unbidden snarl escaped. Former husband. Grief crawled through his veins and misery bound him for he needed a woman to love and give everything to, but one unable to return his love. I hope that woman is you, Ilona.

 Chapter Two

Ilona stomped into her chambers, pivoted and stared at the soldier in her doorway. Difficult to miss the others behind him, she narrowed her eyes. “Remove yourself from my presence.” 

Filip delivered a swift half-bow. “Lord Mikeli sent us to help you pack, my lady.”

“How considerate.” Wary, she pointed. “My clothes are in that wardrobe and closet.” She sat on the bed and observed. Her belongings stuffed in chests and hauled from the room or pitched out the window and thrown into the back of a wagon in a matter of minutes, she uttered no word. When the man pivoted, his swift bow proffered toward the door, she remained seated.

Mikeli entered the room and motioned out his men. He gestured a robed man closer. “My lady, this priest will marry us. Rise out of respect.”

Ilona obliged. “I was not ready for a ceremony.”

“There is no need for formalities since time is of the essence. Your dead husband’s holdings were transferred as per your family agreement with him on the instant of his death.”

“If you wish, my lord.”

Mikeli placed a piece of paper on the small desk with a quill. “You do not mourn your husband or mother?”

Ilona folded her hands. “I did not love him for our marriage was one of convenience. Much the same as ours will be. My mother was part of that conspiracy against me and affirmed my belief noble woman serve as mere pawns in the game of power.”

He nodded. “My holdings remain mine, your holdings become mine. Should you leave me through running, divorce or death, all remains my property and it is my right to claim all your father holds. The reverse stands. Only my male heirs shall inherit and such must be either proven as mine or acknowledged as mine to protect my lineage. You will serve me as you would any lord and uphold your wifely duties. I will provide you a husband’s obligation. I reserve the right to make adjustments as needed. Please sign, my lady.”

She picked up the quill. “May I read it first?”

Mikeli moved directly behind her and placed his mouth beside her ear. “I told you what it reads and promised to provide for you. Is there more you wish to ask of me while I feel generous?”

The warning in his tone assured Ilona her request came with a high price she did not want to pay. “No, my lord.” She sidestepped, bent and signed the paper. The chill of his armor against her backside disconcerted her very soul and the firm clasp of his hands on her hips denied her escape.

“Get used to me behind you, my lady, for it is how I shall make use of you as often as I please.”

She set down the quill, snatched up the contract, straightened, pivoted and slapped the parchment against his breastplate. “I expect you to keep your word, my lord.”

His grin evil, Mikeli winked. “And keep it I will. Leave us to consummate, priest.”

Ilona backed away when the robed man darted from the room and the door clicked shut. “You said—”

“We wed and consummate tonight. We have wed. Now we consummate.” He closed the distance. “If you fell down the stairs and died, all of this was for nothing.”

Her next step back put her back against the wall. “Wait, please, my lord. Please.” His gauntlets hit the floor. The scars on his hands announced long ago lashings and battles. Removal of his helm earned her sharp gasp. Tendrils of disheveled black hair curled around his face while its length brushed just past his shoulders. Emerald green eyes accented his straight nose and firm lips, but failed to distract her gaze from the numerous scars his flesh bore.

Ilona shuddered. Piece-by-piece his armor clattered on the floor and revealed the marked body of a powerful warrior. Scars along his broad chest pulsed shivers down her spine and those on his muscular arms and powerful legs forced her eyes closed.