The fury of the righteous combined with the anger of her vampire, and it hissed, baring its fangs. She was ready to let the beast rule her and damn the consequences, but Catherine's gaze settled on Lord Darren's face.

Does he now understand the price he will pay for his noble stupidity and regret it? she wondered. Or is it true that Northmen are a breed apart who still live by the laws of chivalry that existed when their kind ruled the world?

Her vampire subsided as Lord Darren's rugged, handsome face paled to chalk, unrest flickering in his eyes. The hollow left by its retreat quickly flooded with suffering and worry as her heart hammered like a tribal drum, sounding too loud and too human. Still, the vampire lurked like a skulking wolf, ready to attack when she was at her weakest. It clawed at her control—much stronger than ever before.

She also feared that Eduardo's warning when she came of age was true: controlling it might become impossible if she allowed the creature to take her over completely. It was a tool that, if well used, ensured her survival yet posed a danger to her sanity.

Mastering their nature took her kind eons to master, and very few succeeded in living in harmony with it. It was the price they paid for the arrogance of using magic to distort the laws of nature.

Catherine's gaze met with those silvery orbs, and a strange sense of calm settled over her, almost as if the human put a spell on her.

When she calmed, empathy returned to Lord Darren's expression, and it hurt to see a human feeling sorry for her when no one else did. Eduardo noticed this, and another odd, fleeting softening of his gaze unsettled her. But his face quickly turned to stone again, and she doubted her conclusion.

Eduardo glanced at Aldrich, and a dark scowl creased his brow.

Why had the councilor risked thwarting justice in the kingdom of a man such as Eduardo? The question intrigued her despite her circumstances.

There was always a strange stiffness in the interaction between the Lord Councilor and Eduardo, but she never discovered why the men were at odds. Nor did anyone else seem to know.

Whatever it is, there is a history between them. She swallowed with great difficulty; her throat parched and sore. As for Lord Dillon, I cannot imagine what truly motivates him. Father had him come here as the representative for the northern kingdoms as a courtesy and to serve as a display of power.

He was supposed to be a silent onlooker who would report back what he saw, and fear would keep the humans in check, yet these Northmen were known for not doing what was expected.

Although they had spoken occasionally, and his quiet strength and knowledge had impressed her, they were no more than passing acquaintances.

Catherine had never found humans very interesting. Even though he had saved her life, she suspected this would end badly for them both.

Unable to move, Catherine fought her weakness with the bitter ashes of her pride and the last dregs of her resolve—it proved a cold comfort.

Her senses were both sharp and dull as the clamping ache in her temples turned into a stampeding herd of horses. Yet she dared not allow any of this to distract her from hearing the words that would dictate the rules of her exile.

"Catherine, listen to me with great care. You will obey this human and do everything he expects—even what he does not ask. Nor will you harm him or his people in the slightest."

The loud buzzing in her head made it hard to hear her father's words.

"Never may you touch another weapon in your life. No sword, rapier, spear, or object designed to harm another."—he paused dramatically— "Unless you peel a potato with it."

A snicker of mirth rippled through the crowd as Eduardo slowly, methodically stripped away the layers of her life and identity.

The loss echoed through the empty chamber of her future.

"From this moment forward, your life of privilege is over," Eduardo announced.

He stood to his full height, seeming suddenly menacing.

"Defy me in this, and there will be no hole deep enough for you to crawl into and hide." His voice chilled her soul.

"You will pray for death, seek it, and never find it. You know what I can do to a man," he warned, "I will have no more pity for you."

This was the man their enemies feared.

He had altered my fate to avoid losing face with the council of elders, she mused. Dillon lives far enough away for my father never to have to look at me again. Perhaps even Eduardo cannot face murdering his daughter. But what would have happened if Aldrich had not interfered?

"Unbind her," Aldrich commanded, distracting her from her thoughts.

Hellenic responded before any other, and it took her only a moment to understand his zeal as the coward handled her more roughly than he should, fondling her breast on the sly.

The pig mistakenly assumed I am near enough to the edge for him to goad me into losing my control, she fumed.

It took everything inside her not to oblige him.

"Remember, I'll be waiting for you to slip up. Ready to claim what is already mine—" he whispered, his breath touching her ear. He let the notion settle in her mind before he continued. "When I'm done with you, even the tavern whores will look down their noses at you."

Hellenic supposes that Father will go forward with the execution if I fly off the handle, but I know better. She hated the cold touch of his hands; they made her feel dirty. Father has already set the terms for my new life and will torture me as promised if I disobey.

The idea stopped her from giving in to the vampire that prodded her to rip at Hellenic with her teeth and nails. Although she hated him with her entire being, he had manipulated her enough.

"Tell me, love, do you think you can control yourself?" he taunted just loud enough for her to hear. "We will see how long you can ignore the sweet smell of his blood."

No man will again have the power to hurt, disillusion, or destroy me, she vowed to herself, the universe, and fate itself as she listened to his sly words.

"Remember to be gentle; they break easily," he snickered.

She straightened up slowly and agonizingly, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. Some of the burned flesh hadn't recovered its flexibility and tore, making her bite down on her teeth.

"Not so pretty now, is she?" he called out to the crowd.

"Nah, she looks like a cat that had its tail on fire," a gruff male voice responded, and chuckles echoed among the walls.

Tremors shook her body like a fever, but she valiantly disregarded their disdain. Her hatred had long since spanned to include the fathers who sired them and the mothers who spawned them.

She should not be able to stand, let alone walk, and she saw it in their eyes.

They are fools, all of them. After all these years, they still do not grasp the power of my father's blood, she thought. It is the one thing not even Eduardo can take from me.

Her soul-deep contempt gave birth to a promise; someday, somehow, she would show them her mettle. There was no price she would not pay to watch these arrogant men cower before her in fear.

Life with servants taught her that an inadvertent glance could seal her fate, and Catherine refrained from looking any of them in the eye.

Father has decided my path, she reminded herself, and I will swallow my pride to avoid that outcome.

Without his threat, she would have attacked the nearest one and ended this on her terms, taking out a few of her new enemies before the guards or Eduardo subdued her.

Years of sparring with or fighting beside them taught her their flaws and weaknesses. Most of them were not half the warrior she was and would never measure up to her, and it was the main reason they had failed to stand by her.

What man would admit a woman could equal or best him? The thought tugged down the edges of her mouth and hardened her expression.

"Remove her from my presence and never bring her back to this place," Eduardo ordered Dillon as if the human were his to command.

Cililatherine barely checked the urge to cover her nudity as she slowly walked over to her new master. It took strength beyond what she thought she possessed to stay upright and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Only fortitude kept her from glancing back at the crowd and allowing them to see the revulsion hiding in her eyes.

Would Lord Dillon have spoken up if he realized he would be the first human to attain a pet vampire? She pictured her father in her mind, mentally looking for any trace of the man he was once but found none. What took hold of his sense and moved him to do such a thing? It is ludicrous and without precedent. Perhaps Margaret used an enchantment upon him—if such things exist. What else could explain the decisions he made these last few weeks?

Her gaze settled on the man with whom her future was now connected.

At least Lord Dillon is a man of honor, a quality the rest lack. Her lips compressed into a thin line. Just like integrity, compassion, dignity, and decency.

A sharp pebble pierced the burned skin at the bottom of her foot, sending a fresh wave of pain through her body, and it was nearly her undoing.

"Run along, little slave girl. Go be a good little whore for the human," that southern voice with his drawl snickered again.

Her right hand closed into a fist so tight the skin of her raw, silver-burned wrist throbbed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Dillon's nose flare and the veins in his neck pop.

"Hope he's man enough for you!" a gruffer voice joined the chorus.

Humans are not as adept at hiding their feelings as vampires, she mused. His displeasure shows in every line of his body.

She allowed herself to remember what she knew about him.

Most of our kind respected him before today. She stared out at the open moors she loved so much and would never see again. Unfortunately, he is only a pawn in Father's game, and the odds that he will survive our long journey to his home seem low.

She sensed eyes boring into her back with more venom than any other.

Hellenic isn't a man who likes being thwarted, and he will find a way to get what he wants. She shuddered.

The idea of being at his mercy scared her more than Eduardo's threats, but then the understanding of what she had survived bolstered her stride.

The duke may have the power to harm my body, but he will never defeat my soul, she resolved. Even if he comes after us, captures me, and takes me far enough away, that Father will not find me.

Her gaze again caught on her human master, taking in the shadows in his gaze and the deep furrow of his strong brow.

When Hellenic does, this brave man will die brutally and quickly, but that would be a blessing I shall not be granted. Strangely, the idea of Lord Dillon staring blankly at the sky with those intense eyes, his spirit gone, tugged at her heart.