Another venue switch and Kat was transported to a scorching mountaintop in the heat of the day beside a dying Viktor. His wrists and ankles were tied to posts. His eyes swollen shut from the sun. His lips as dry as the sand on the beach below them. And his skin blistered and raw from the elements.
Using his last breath, he wheezed a prayer to Zeus asking the Father of the Gods to show favor upon his men and a promise that Bjorn would know vicious vengeance for his treachery. Kat wept just as she had for her parents. Her brain knew it was ancient history, Viktor was alive and well, but her heart was broken, shattered into a million pieces at the mere thought of losing him.
The pictures before her blinked out of existence but Kat still wept. She sobbed for what he'd endured, for the long life he'd lived, for the benevolent man he was, and out of fear that she might never see him again. Looking across the table, she saw satisfaction and anticipation on Bjorn's face. The bastard had something else up his sleeve and Kat knew it was going to suck.
Handing her a linen handkerchief, he said, "Dry your eyes. Viktoras is not worth our tears. You should not be crying over his death but over the fact that Zeus stepped in and granted him and the worthless lot who pledged allegiance to him resurrection and immortality.
"They should've all stayed dead. Although I only had a hand in the demise of Viktoras' human life, I do admit to celebrating every time one of his men was slain. After I was told of my greatest enemy's recovery and that of Roman and Achilles, I sent men to watch over the graves of the others, but those men died tragic deaths, drained of all their blood.
"How do you think that happened, Katarina? Why would I find my men completely exsanguinated next to the empty graves of those foolish enough to follow Viktoras?"
Kat's tears had dried but her pain was still nearly crippling her. Listening to Bjorn spout pure heresy against the man she was just realizing the depth of her feelings for after holding her hostage for only God knew what, caused the usually calm, levelheaded woman to snap.
Standing so quickly the chair beneath her hit the floor with a loud crack, Kat let all her frustration at the events of the last twenty-four hours fly from her mouth like bullets from a gun. "Why? Why did the murderers you had lying in wait to kill good men die horrible deaths? I don't know and quite frankly, I don't care. What I want to know is what these honorable men ever did to you? What did Viktor ever do to you? Why did you find it necessary to have him killed? Not just killed but shamed, slandered, and left to die like an animal?"
Inhaling deeply, she raged on, her voice rising with every statement. "You want to know what I think, Bjorn?" Kat said his name with such derision he stood, but she kept going even though he clenched his fists at his side. "I think you were scared of him. I think you knew he was a better man than you. Viktor made you look bad simply by existing. He makes you look bad now. You are what we call back home a coward. Like I said, you were afraid of him then and you're afraid of him now. Why else would you kidnap a girl? Afraid Viktor and his boys will kick your ass? Well, come closer, I have a secret for you."
Kat planted her hands on her hips, leaned over the table, and poured all the disdain she could into her sweetest southern drawl. "You fucked with the wrong guy, baby. He may have been tough when y'all ran around in skirts but now he's a force to be reckoned with. He's gonna make you pay for everything you've done. You're going to die a horrific death. One not even your goddess can bring you back from. You..."
Kat's words were interrupted by Bjorn's hand around her throat. She could see the fire in his eyes as his grip tightened. Feel her body fighting for its next breath as he kicked the table out of the way and lifted her feet from the floor. Black spots danced around the edges of her vision as he brought her to the level of eyes.
Growling like a feral animal, he spat, "You, little girl, will die after watching your precious blood king forfeit his life at the end of my sword. But first..."
Bjorn's last words were inaudible as Kat's vision faded and the sound of Viktor bellowing her name tore through what was left of her consciousness.
Chapter Six
"KATARINA!" Viktor roared.
Seconds became hours as the ancient warrior prayed for any sign his mate still drew breath. Blocking out the turbulent thoughts of the other Kings, Viktor focused solely on Katarina, willing her to still be alive with all the power bestowed upon him by the Father of the Gods.
She gasped.
A tidal wave of relief washed over the King. The keeper of his heart lived but was unconscious, making it impossible for him to locate her using their bond. Unable to control his need to find her, Viktor raced to the dungeons in the depth of the castle he'd called home since the late sixteenth century. Reaching the steel and concrete reinforced oak door in the farthest corner of the keep, the King pierced his finger with the dagger from his belt then carefully let a single drop of his life's essence drop into the golden lightning bolt inlaid on the heavy oak.
A flash of light, the deep rumble of thunder, and the pounding of huge, steel deadbolts sliding open shook the stone walls. Long unused hinges groaned in protest as a ton of oak and steel slid across the earthen floor, opening the door to Viktor's only hope of seeing his beloved again. Taking a deep breath, the King entered the altar to Zeus he'd built and consecrated with his own blood.
Kneeling before the stone statue of the Father of the Gods, Viktor prayed the words he'd been taught upon his resurrection, "Father of the Gods, Ruler of Sky and Thunder, I come to you a humble servant on bended knee to pray for guidance. With a sight only the most powerful could possess, look into the mortal world, place your eyes and protection on meum custos animae. Place your hand of protection upon her. Lead my steps that I may find her. It is with reverence, respect, and absolute obedience I forfeit my immortal existence that she might live. I gladly offer my soul to Charon and make my journey across the river Styx. I pray upon your altar and ask for your favor. Ever faithful, ever obedient, your servant."
Viktor spoke with unyielding belief and a strength that poured from the everlasting love he possessed for Katarina. She may not know who he was to her or what she meant to him, but he did know beyond the shadow of all doubt that if she had the chance for a full life filled with love and happiness, his sacrifice would be the best thing he'd ever done.
Waiting for a sign that his prayer had been heard, Viktor focused on the single glimmer of light in his soul that was his Katarina. Thousands of years spent wandering the darkness, waiting to feel the warmth of a love blessed by the gods and forged by Destiny, had brought the mighty King to this moment in time. He would save her. She would live. He would slaughter the one who dared to harm her. And then retire to the Elysian Fields, content with his life, happy in the knowledge the world had not been deprived of the blessing that was his Katarina.
Head bowed, repeating his prayer over and over, the words were stolen from Viktor's lips as a flash of lightning tore through the air before him, striking the granite sculpture of Zeus the ancient warrior had fashioned with his own hands. The crash of stone hitting stone echoed off the walls as dust filled the chamber. A shaft of bright, white light shot from above. Viktor raised his hand to protect his squinted eyes as a voice spoke that he'd only ever heard while his human heart still beat.
"I hear your words, Unum. The conviction of your belief in me and your relentless courage to save your custos animae. Your prayers have been answered. I accept your sacrifice but in so much as your willingness to forfeit your life, Charon has no need of your obolus and my brother has no need of your soul.
"Look within yourself. Follow the light to your mate. Take the weapon before you forged by Athena from the bronze of my shield, Aegis, blessed by my own hand. May it serve you well, Unum."
The light extinguished. The dust settled. Silence was deafening as the grave filled the chamber. Viktor looked down. There, lying at his feet was the weapon of the gods just as Zeus had promised. Bowing to what used to be his altar to the Father of the Gods, the King simply whispered, "Thank you. I am ever in your debt."
Racing through dark, winding, long-forgotten tunnels, Viktor threw open the doors and using his preternatural speed, dashed into the dense forest behind the castle. Following the light of his dear Katarina, Viktor drew upon the powers given to him as the leader of the Kings of the Blood and sent the same directions he was following to each of his comrades. Their overwhelming support of his call to arms flowed back to him. With more gratitude than he could ever express, the ancient commander severed his connection to the others, directing his entire focus on Katarina and the bastard who would forfeit his life for daring to lay a finger on her.