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His declaration makes me laugh maybe too wildly. It sounds disingenuous and forced.
“No one beat me. Why would my family beat me?”
“Who was it, Maeve? Your mother? Her husband? Which one of them hit you? Was it your sister. I do not think a protective older sister would beat on the baby.”
How does he know it was not my sister? Did he know her? Had they met near the border? Were they friends before she was burned? Is he the one who turned her in?
What will you do if he is, silly Maeve? What will you do if he knew your family? Climb into his bed tonight the same as every night after he watched your mother hanged from a theater box. The butcher could have saved them if he so wanted. Your lover is worse than a Bloodtaker.
“Maeve?”
I shake the thoughts from my head. They cannot be shaken from my heart. Walk away, Maeve. Walk away before they burn you next.
“No one hit me.” I look him in the eyes, so he knows that I am telling the truth. “My family was good to me.”
“Did they teach you to lie this well?” Christian tilts his head to the side to study me from a different angle. “Or, does it come natural?”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
He makes me nervous when he is in my head. I know that he is in here searching for his answer, which is not the one he is hoping for.
“Hide it from me if you like, but the dark truth always come to light. Was it your mother?”
“It was not my mother.”
“Then you are admitting to being beaten.”
He claims his victory, and it makes me even more defensive.
“No, I am not.”
I am making simple mistakes. Innocent people do not defend themselves with the same passion as the guilty. Not only am I on the defensive, I am nervous and babbling. Like a lying fly caught up in his web of truth. I stop before I can entangle myself anymore.
“Never lie to me, Maeve. I know when I am being lied to, so it is impossible to lie to me.” The Butcher holds me by my arm. “I know the truth already. I see it in your head. It would be good to remember that about me. I will always know.”
“Then why did you ask me?”
“Because I knew you would lie.” He pushes my hair back out of my face. “It is a habit that must be broken if you want me to trust you.”
“You claim to love her, Beaumont.” Neo interrupts. “What do you presume to do about it? Marry her or leave her for someone who can.”
“It is not as simple as that, Neo Salim.” The priest says patiently. “Christian is a Prince. He needs the approval of the crown and the church before he weds. They have chosen his wife.”
“Mae should marry me.” Neo insists. “Do you know what will happen to her if the church learns of her child with this Beaumont? She must be protected at all costs.”
I touch Neo’s battered face. “I cannot marry you, Nicodemus.” I tell him sadly. “I love the Christian. If I cannot have him, then I shall remain alone.”
I am pulled away from Neo into the embrace of my Prince.
“Father O’Toole, I would like for you to marry us.”
“Are you certain, Highness? Do you understand the danger of defying the Cardinal?”
“The Cardinal does not own me. They can offer me a wife, but I will marry who I choose.”
“Her life will be endangered for as long as you are together.”
“As will the lives of those who threaten her.” Christian promises.
“Shall we begin, my Prince?”
The priest performs our secret marriage with Neo and his daft kin serving as witnesses. Hot tears fall unchecked, cutting paths down my brown cheeks. As I gaze into his aristocratic face and his big, green eyes, I wonder why he chose to marry me? Love is not a good enough reason. Only the lowest of the poor marry for love. Maybe I should be asking myself why I would marry him. He is the Butcher of Beaumont. Somehow, I am able to see past that when he is holding me. Maybe we have cursed one another, but I love him. I will never stop loving Christian Beaumont. He hugs me as I speak my shaky vows into his hard chest with my arms wrapped around his waist. I pledge to this man my everything. This heart, this body, my life. His sins are not bigger than my love for him and that is why I want to be his wife.
“We should leave for the church as soon as you are ready.” The priest makes haste. “We are not safe here.”
Bloodtakers cannot follow us into the church. Christian and I can stop running for a while. We will not have to look over our shoulders for creepy, man-eating monsters. The Prince can finally get the rest that he needs. My eyelashes flutter prettily when my new husband takes my face in his hands and kisses me so softly that I barely feel it on my lips. It is a kiss that is felt inside my gut. Our eyes are bright with stars when our lips separate. Not the priest, the Salims nor anyone else would understand this joy that we share. Two pieces that are not meant to touch have joined together and are bound for all eternity. This forbidden marriage of ours is woven with the life growing inside me, the deaths on his hands, the pleasure we share when we are together, and the pain of knowing we are not supposed to be. Our love has an intricacy that makes it hurt so beautifully. It is built on longing and desperation that can only be fulfilled in each other’s arms. Where I am now and where I shall always remain.
Christian, my husband.
He squeezes me tighter and kisses me again. My dark fingers dig into his bright hair and my tongue tastes his love for me. The Cardinal’s favorite loves me. I feel it in his strong arms. I sense it in the damp air. I hear it pounding through my heart like a herd of wild horses. My eyes are blinded by warm tears. Yet, I still see him. I will always see my love. This must be a spell. What else would make a Beaumont marry a witch? Or a witch to marry her hunter?
“Love, sweet Maeve.” He whispers in my ear. “Love is more valuable than money, and more powerful than the Cardinal. My love for you is heavier than the gold and priceless jewels in my crown. Love will make even a Prince throw his fortune and title into the wind.”
“Love will make his mortal enemy marry him and defy everything that she once was.”
The smile gracing Christian’s beautiful lips when he wipes my tears is softer than babies and clouds. He is more beautiful than beauty itself when he stares at me so adoringly. His heart is thumping in time with mine. My hand reaches up and wipes away the single, lonely diamond drop that rolls down the Prince’s tanned cheek. I lick the salty wetness from my finger. It does not taste of loneliness or sorrow. It tastes of passion and forever.
“I love you so damn much, woman.”
His lips cover mine again stoking the wildfire that burns inside us. A fire that is hard to control once the coals catch aflame, and impossible to extinguish since it began the day when he first took me. I moan when my breasts flatten against his chest and our nether regions touch.
Father O’Toole clears his throat. “Your highness, we should be going.”
Christian sighs in disappointment. Tonight, is our wedding night, Princess. I look forward to ravishing my wife. The Prince’s voice is low and soft. As firm as his hands when he is rubbing me down with warm oil. He leaves me breathless when he releases me. My body trembles as I help him gather our things and roll them into our packs. We are welcomed by the sound of night creatures when we slip out into the dark. The birds are different, the bugs are different, and the cool, heavy air of the moon is not the same as the sun. Mankind lives in two different worlds, but how often do we stop to appreciate or merely notice the differences? Creatures that creep and crawl under the white moon are far more mysterious than those which live under the sun. Mysterious is exciting. It is when you can exercise your imagination and deep thinking. I need the sun to heal which takes away the magic of it. It is far too serious of a necessity to daydream or wonder about. The sun comes third to water and food in my short line of needful things. One does not fantasize about water. The moon is for pleasure.
Many a night I have lain sprawled in the itchy grass or high above in my treehouse gazing upon it in wonder. It is when my mind roams free and evening-dreams about handsome men, and watching babies grow into children with the looks of my ancestors. As the years passed, so did the hopes of it ever happening for me. Did Mother plan to leave me alone forever? We never discussed how long I would live away. The few times when I mentioned marriage, she did not mention it back. Did she hide me because she knew that I could fall into the wrong hands and used to commit evil? Forced to heal royals and the clergy? What if the Cardinal sent Christian to seduce me and lure me to their side? What if this was all a cruel trick to keep me away from the tribes? What if he does not truly love me?
“Maeve.”
Christian stops me. The men continue when he kisses me fiercely. His hold on me is possessive and hard. It closes my windpipe and burns my eyes. His green eyes are as hard and dark as the black air surrounding us. Never did I imagine I would lose my heart to a Prince.
“Does this feel like a trick?” He demands angrily.
I am holding onto him with every bit of strength and hope that I have within me. A trick? The ache swallowing my soul is so strong that it should hurt. This is the other ache. This ache feels like making love with your favorite lover.
“No.” I whisper.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then you need to stop doubting me.” He whispers also. “Have trust in your husband.”
Christian holds my hand and guards my steps when I am more able than the men that we catch up to. The way he protects me is no trick. He keeps me against him if trouble arises. I stop suddenly when a chill shimmy’s up my spine and the hairs on my arms stand on end. It is so strong, that I look to Christian for help.
“What is it, Maeve? Are we being stalked?”
“Something is wrong.” I try to explain. “I think I should be afraid, but I’m not.”
“Bloodtakers.” Christian feels it with me. “They are close.”
“We will never make it to the church. It is too far to outrun them.”
“Maybe we should speak to them before we kill them.” I suggest. “What will it hurt?”
“This is not the time to parlay with Bloodtakers.” Neo disagrees immediately. “They want to kill you, not have tea.”
“They will change their minds when I explain that I am one of them.”
“One of them?” The priest crosses himself. “They feed on blood, girl. They are particularly fond of ‘witches’ blood.”
“Is it true what the Christian’s say about her?” The question comes from the dark. “Can she heal the dead?”
I know the voice belongs to a Bloodtaker before anyone tells me. He sounds and looks angelic. As does the group that follow him out of the trees. One minute they were not here and the next they are. How is this possible? Their pale skin seems to glow in the dark. And their eyes are the color of the dark trees surrounding us.
“Who asks?” Christian speaks for us.
“Nicholas Lockton.”
“Little Nickie?” I blurt out without thinking.
I know it is one and the same when his companions chuckle and guffaw.
“Little Nickie?” Someone within his group snorts. “Seen your pecker, has she?”
“Who calls me by childhood pet-name?” It comes to him quickly. “Mae?”
I frown when my husband grabs me around my waist as I walk forward to greet him.
“Mae Payne?” He comes closer to be sure. His face lights up when he recognizes me. “You are the witch we are hunting? We all believed you to be dead.”
“I am a ghost.” I say dryly. “I’m haunting you.”
“Still the meanest girl around, I see.”
“And you are still funny-looking, I see.”
The years blend into one when we laugh.
“This is why my brother used to pull your braids and push you down.”
“And I would get up and kick his ass.” I have fond memories of Sebastian. “How is he?”
“In mourning.”
Little Nickie is not so little anymore, and he is not so funny-looking.
“Sebastian’s wife died recently, and the news of your family’s death was taken hard by all. The Christian hordes are hunting down our best and slaughtering everyone they find along the way. Will your husband fight with us, or against us when they come for you?”
We all turn to the Beaumont who is quiet. It unsettles me. Sweat beads on my forehead.
“My loyalty is to my wife.” Christian locks an arm around my waist. “The fool who comes for her, comes for the Butcher.”
His words have their desired effect when they draw silence from the gathering. The Butcher is as feared as he is fearsome. None wants to face him in battle.
“No church nor king can take her away from me.” He assures them. “Even if said King is my father. My wife will always come first.”
“Good.” Neo slaps him on the shoulder. He is satisfied with his answer. “She is a good woman.”
“We will need you when the war comes to us.” Nicholas Lockton nods his approval. “Come, we will give you escort to the church.”
“The Locktons are Bloodtakers?” I ask Nickie in surprise.
He smiles knowingly and nods his head. “We were born this way, Mae.”
“I never knew.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought you were children the same as us.”
“We were children the same as you, and now we are men grown. We are not the blood-crazed maniacs that the church will have you believe.” He explains. “Not like him and his ilk.” Nickie nods at Christian. “We prefer to live quietly and not bring attention to ourselves.”
“I have seen what your kind can do when the blood craving takes over them. I was there to oversee the burying of bodies with their necks torn open and covered with claw marks.”
“And you naturally assumed that it was us?” Nickie smiles dangerously. “Why would we slaughter an entire city of men and women that would be better left alive to feed on when need be?” Nickie’s eyes flash when there is no light to reflect in them. “And why would we tear open their throats when we know that the church would point the blame on us? We do not need to tear open any throats to get what we want when two small wounds will do. Ripping open throats are crimes of passion and too messy for our liking. Blood stains and the smell can linger for years. It is something Christians would take pleasure in doing to have a reason to hunt us.”
“That is a lie.” My husband denies fervently. “I have heard it from a demon’s mouth.”
“You were probably torturing him, or her.” Nickie’s lips form a grim line. “You would be surprised what a man will admit to when he is being tortured to death.”
My gut cramps when Christian does not deny it. Is the church using the Bloodtakers to press their cause? Of course, they are. It makes soldiers more inclined to kill takers, if they think they are feasting on villagers. The treachery makes me faint. Christian grabs me before I fall over and lifts me into his arms.
“I would never kill villagers to put retribution in my soldier’s hearts.” He gives me his word. “They fight because they are Beaumonts. Not because I trick them into doing so.”
“I have seen the carnage you leave behind, Beaumont.” Neo says rubbing the kinky hair on his handsome, brown face. “I hope your God forgives you when you meet him one day.”
Christian is quiet. Neo’s words are humbling. What will his God say when he is called to answer for setting huts on fire in the middle of the night? How does he explain the people screaming inside as they fight to escape a fiery death? He will have to explain the careless slashing of his sword and the rivers of blood, when he cut through the terrified, confused people milling around him. Christian holds his head between his hands, as he fights the shocking images that live inside his mind.
Leave none alive. Make them fear the wrath of a God so powerful that they come to the church begging for repentance. Kill the males. Plant Christian seed in the women and take them back to serve real men.
The travesties that Father O’Toole oversaw are real. Any children not weaned off the tit were left behind in their cradles. I heard the stories. They castrate the prettier boys to give to the clergy to serve in the church.
“Enough, Maeve.” The Prince yells shakily. “I know what I have done.”
My head is supposed to be a private place. But he is always here lurking, spying, and getting hurt by what he sees. I change my thoughts and think about the last time he was between my legs with his cock inside me. My finger digging into his sweaty muscles and his lips making love to mine. The Beaumont shakes his head at me. I laugh aloud when he colors. The men are confused because I did not move, nor did we speak a word.
“They can communicate without speaking.” Nickie guesses. “She is a witch and he is the Beaumont hunter. He knows her thoughts.”
“The Princess should be hidden away and protected.” Father O’Toole says emotionally. “This child is a miracle. Sent down from God himself to unite the church with the tribes.”
“Mae is with child?” Nickie gasps. “Unite the church with the tribes? The church will want the child dead. What if it is born like Maeve or its father?” Nickie says. “They do not want to face their children on the other side of the battle in eighteen years.”
“This child is my heir, and a Prince or Princess.” Christian hisses at them. “This child has ten thousand men who will follow its father into any battle and die for us. My men are not my father’s men. They will protect what is mine.”
