“Not at all,” our mate agreed, pulling back.
“Quite the party.” The countess whistled while her gaze considered all of the singed spots around the cave, only mounds of ash left of our enemies.
“Yeah, but we saved you a party favor,” André offered, kicking Françoys awake.
He passed out from the horror at some point, while Ryker burned.
“I see that.” She smirked, cradling André’s cheek. “You are always so considerate of your Vampir Mother.”
“That I am.”
Françoys’s eyes widened when she crouched over him, ire and fear mixing in his gaze.
“Now, now, darling. You did all of this to end my dynasty, making me believe you were a strong man…” Her voice was sensual but deadly as she dragged the tip of her long black nail down his cheek, caressing it. “Don’t tell me you are afraid of me?”
He tried to reply but she placed her finger on his lips, using her mental supremacy to take away his voice.
“What’s that? Sorry, I can’t hear you.” Standing, she looked at him over her nose, loathing coloring her expression. “Apparently, you were not scared enough.”
Her fingers curled in the air, grabbing onto the gravity around him and she began to drag him toward the very back of the mountain, already knowing the way.
“Care to help me end this once and for all, Daughter?” she asked our mate, extending a hand to her.
Smirking, Natasha took her hand, and we all walked into the alcove.
Flames sparked on Natasha’s fingers, her light immediately smothering the darkness.
A gasp escaped her when she was fully able to see what the shadows hid.
Near the far wall, a large post was staked to the ground with Several rows of quicksilver chains tying Charles Martell to it… Or what was left of him.
“Is that him? The one they wanted to awake with my blood?”
Countess Dariah answered her with a nod, and Natasha carefully observed every detail of the monster before us, taken aback by the gruesome sight.
Charles was completely desiccated under the chains, the layers of his skin separated like the curling pages of a book. Even the color had left him, his form an ashy grey, enhancing the expression of unadulterated terror that had permanently carved his face. The eyes were wide but glazed over with a white film of dust and dehydration.
The countess dropped Françoys at his feet, and his eyes widened in terror far more when he realized what was coming. He couldn’t even thrash to try to set himself free anymore. The one person he’d tried so hard to destroy had taken that from him.
Countess Dariah stood next to our mate, taking in the shackles on Charles’s wrists and ankles, the multiple layers of chains holding him to the post, and even the mouth gag. She gestured toward him. “All of this, and it still wasn’t enough for my family’s kingdom to be safe.”
We somberly chuckled.
“All yours, Natasha,” she offered, moving back to where André and I stood.
Glancing up at what was left of Charles Martell, Natasha centered herself across from him.
“Is this what you wanted? The power in my blood?” she asked, igniting both her hands as she glanced at Françoys beneath the grey vampire. “You can both have it.”
Dual streams of blue fire shot from her hands toward them, the blaze igniting their forms on contact. An explosion rushed up the wooden post, the blaze igniting brighter, faster, and far bigger than it had with any of the others.
“Burn it to the ground,” our mate ordered, and the flames immediately complied.
Her fire spread from Charles to the walls behind him, swiftly licking onto the ceiling. More left Françoys, rolling over his scorching form on their path to the floor.
“Thank you.” Countess Dariah hugged Natasha to her side, turning away from the fire and walking away together.
André and I followed them, hearing several rock explosions behind us, the alcove walls caving in with the blast.
