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"Let me reiterate," Castor said as he closed the rest of the distance between them. "Elan Voss will leave of his own free will, or I will take every measure necessary to ensure that you never see him again." He tilted his head toward Elan, who was fuming on the spot. "I cannot hurt you, my love, but that protection doesn't extend to Elan. He is not your blood."
Ianora's face paled, and she looked between Castor and Elan before, at last, she said. "Very well. Elan, it seems I will not be needing your services any longer."
"Princess, I can handle—"
"Elan, please. This is a battle we cannot win."
He bowed, so sickeningly obedient that he was. "As you say, princess."
"Guards," Castor prompted. "Show him out."
As soon as Elan was dragged away, it was just Castor, Ianora, and a handful of guards left. He came closer, breathing in her sweet jasmine and cinnamon scent. She tensed when he touched the small of her back and guided her toward the large set of stone doors at the front of the hall.
"Well, then, princess, how about the grand tour? My treat."
Chapter 3 - Ianora
Ianora pulled out of Castor's grip and gracefully stepped aside. She could play the same games as him, and just as well, but that didn't mean she had to tolerate his filthy paws on her. When her eyes settled on him, she swallowed, reminded again by his grotesque features that he was not the man he was decades ago.
Castor's eyes had once been a dark, stormy gray, but now those clouds were mixed with sparks of red, much like the roses adorning the castle walls. His face was no longer angled and chiseled but curved, with pointed ears. His crown was a golden weave of rose vines, the thorns accentuated with sharp red that...were those roses bleeding?
"A tour, then," Ianora said dryly, averting her gaze from him. Despite how the curse had twisted his features, there was a resemblance to the man she'd known all those years ago—a man who, until recently, had been called one of the most handsome in all the realm. "You've done quite a bit with the place, it seems. Leave it to a man as cold and dark as you to ruin a perfectly good castle."
"I assure you, most of the renovations were entirely unintentional," Castor said as he guided her through the entranceway and into the rose thorn-infested castle. His long, black hair was tamed in a braid, and his red silk robe swayed as he moved ahead, giving Ianora glimpses of the tanned and sculpted muscles of his arms.
The doors opened to reveal a massive room with mosaics and frescos of great intricacy on the walls. To the left, a wide spiral staircase reached from the entrance all the way to the top floor and beyond. This place had once taken Ianora's breath away, but now, everything was covered with wild black thorns and pulsating red roses. The walls, the very air around her, held thick, dark energy as if it were saturated in the blood of those who had been killed inside the castle.
Between the coiled vines were torches that glowed with an ever-burning magical fire, giving the room a regal golden glow, despite the obvious shadow over this place.
Castor held his hands behind his back, avoiding the staircase altogether to lead Ianora into the broad hallway.
"Once the curse upon the realm took root in my home," Castor went on, "it manifested in the strangest of ways. Long-forgotten ghosts now roam the halls. The roses I had been cultivating for your inevitable arrival began to grow like mad, likely because of the enchantments placed upon them beforehand."
Ianora stared at the patch of roses nearest to her as they walked by, four enormous heads of blood-red petals. Liquid dripped from between the petals, staining the floor with a brown and red puddle.
The rose heads followed her as she went by. "What are you looking at?"
Ianora shrieked. "W-what, did that flower just talk?"
"Yah-huh, where else would this incredible voice come from, ya numbskull?" the flower skull. "Stop staring and mind your own business! And don't you dare think about plucking me!"
Ianora backed away quickly, her foot sinking in a pool of coagulated blood from all the flowers. She shrieked again.
"Oh, quit your cryin', girl!" a different flower said. "Aren't you vampires supposed to like blood? What's the big deal? Shouldn't you behappyabout all the free food? Ungrateful sods!"
She placed a terrified hand on her chest and scrambled out and away from the second patch of flowers. "I'm terribly sorry. I’m just a guest here. I had no idea—"
She backed toward the center of the stone hallway, where in her hurry, she bumped into Castor. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and she froze. The flowers were of very little concern to her now that Castor had a hold on her.
"Just a guest here, are you?" His breath tickled her ear, and he pulled her flat against him so her butt was pressed to his groin. She could feel the hardness there, ready like a weapon. She stilled, yet she couldn't make herself pull away. "I wonder just what you're planning, hmm, love? I suppose there's no point in telling you it's no use. There is nothing you can do to counteract the spell."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Ianora jerked her elbow to try and get it out of Castor's grip, but he held strong.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself. I'm going to have a lot of fun bringing you to heel." His fingers splayed across her stomach, and his other hand came up to brush a lock of hair out of her face.
She snarled and pushed him away; this time, he let her. He wore a smug smirk that she'd like to claw off his face. "Why are you doing this, Castor? What did I ever do to you to deserve treatment like this?"
He scoffed. "Are you serious, darling? Wherever do I begin? Youleftme!"
