Bond of Blood by Diane Whiteside

Author:Diane Whiteside
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

NINE

Rodrigo pounded his cell’s walls, cursing his captors. His fists were bloody wrecks, every bone broken into a pulp. Yet the pain of his wounds meant nothing. He easily ignored the sun rising in the east, bringing with it the threat of imminent death.

As his master had taught him when he studied to become a knight, as L’Ordene de Chevalerie, the great tale of knighthood said, every knight was bound by the commandment to honor all women and damsels and be ready to aid them to the limit of his power. As he’d sworn holy oaths time and time again to do. Yet he’d failed to aid a damsel, especially one who so greatly resembled his beloved wife, with her dark hair and eyes, fair skin, and curving body.

The only thing that mattered now was her body, broken and battered on the castle’s dung heap, reminding him of the trials she’d undergone. Of how he’d failed her.

How those devils had used their evil devices on her in the dungeon! Then Diego had proceeded to tear the poor girl’s virginity away in every conceivable fashion, as The Syrian made sure Rodrigo understood how completely helpless he was.

He had offered himself in her place—and they had mocked him, listing all the times and places and ways they had used him.

Then they had offered him the Devil’s bargain: He could save the girl’s life—if he promised to become an assassin like Diego. A killing machine, murdering men for gold. Saving one life by taking others again and again and again, for eternity. Satisfy his knightly oaths to protect women by damning himself through repeatedly committing that heinous mortal sin.

The pits of Hell had opened before him at that moment, when the girl pleaded with him to accept their offer. To do whatever they said, if it would save her life. His enemies’ eyes had gleamed with triumph, like jackals eyeing a fresh carcass.

But like a clean ocean breeze, he’d remembered his wife’s words when she’d sent him off to battle, begging him not to dwell on soft thoughts, like her and the children, which might weaken him in time of danger and cost him his life—or worse. But instead, he should focus all his hopes and prayers on Dios santo and his duty. If he did that, surely Jesuscristo would send his angels to protect him and bring him home safely.

Somehow he’d managed to shake his head. Then he’d called on them to repent and turn from wickedness, using every holy verse he could think of. They’d quickly gagged him at that, as if he’d needed any further proof they were completely evil.

Diego’s fangs had ripped open her neck as he’d raped her repeatedly—while The Syrian had held down Rodrigo and fed on his horror.

Diego had even gained enough strength from her death that for the first time, he’d changed shape—into a wolf, a howling creature of the night.

Dios santo, how he prayed for their deaths.

The dawnlight crept across the dung heap and toward his cell’s wall.

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