Immanuel's Veins by Ted Dekker

“Alek, your jealousy is unbecoming. Let him look at me, for goodness’ sake. It’s harmless and I find it charming.”
    â€œHe’s undressing you over there! I won’t stand by while he rapes you with his eyes.”
    â€œAlek—”
    â€œStay out of this, Toma!” he snapped.
    â€œYou misunderstand,” Simion said. “It’s true we love beauty, and the Cantemir women have a reputation for—”
    â€œI don’t care. Keep your eyes off this one or you answer to me here and now.”
    â€œThen it’s true?”
    â€œNo more words!”
    â€œYou are afraid. Does a woman love a man who’s afraid?”
    I expected Vlad van Valerik to settle his man again, but he didn’t. He was leaning back in his chair, glass in hand, eyes on Lucine. I had no idea how long he’d been staring, but the look alarmed me once again.
    â€œAfraid of a man like you? Don’t you realize that I’ve killed a hundred men like you?”
    â€œLike Toma killed Stefan? Without a fair fight?”
    â€œChoose your weapon now and let’s be done with it!” Alek thundered.
    The dining room rang with the challenge. No one moved. Simion looked completely at ease.
    Look at me, Toma. I will show you pleasures that you could never know with her .
    Sofia’s voice whispered in my head and this time without my looking into her eyes. I was indeed losing my mind.
    â€œThat will do, Simion.” Valerik’s voice rumbled from the head of the table. “I think we have done things backward here. It isn’t right for us to impose our own passions on you in your own home. Forgive me, Lady Cantemir.”
    â€œNonsense. I should be the one begging your forgiveness. Please, Alek, sit.”
    â€œBut now we must leave.” Valerik stood and bowed. “It’s been a delightful meal.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo, madam. We will go.” He glanced at Simion and Sofia, who stood.
    Toma . . . beautiful Toma . . .
    I felt my pulse quicken.
    Kesia stood, as did we all. “Sir, my apologies. I am mortified.”
    â€œNonsense. It was perfectly delightful.”
    â€œIf there’s anything I can do.”
    â€œThere is,” he said.
    She blinked. “There is?”
    â€œTomorrow night we shall have a ball. A private affair, but you are welcome. All of you. At sundown.”
    â€œThat will be impossible,” I said. And then for Kesia’s sake, “But thank you for the invitation.”
    â€œIt’s a wonderful idea,” Natasha said. “Why not?”
    â€œI am here for your safety, madam,” I said. “I do not consider taking leave of this estate to be wise.”
    â€œBut that’s . . .”
    â€œPlease don’t make a scene, Natasha,” Lucine whispered harshly.
    Vlad van Valerik took Kesia’s hand. Kissed it gently. “I hope you reconsider, my dear. Good evening.”
    They left, Vlad first. Simion and Sofia both slowed at the dining room door and twisted their heads for one last stare.
    Be careful, my darling . . .
    Then they were gone.

SEVEN
    T he dinner with the Russians haunted Lucine’s sleep that night. Not the dinner itself, but the eyes.
    More specifically, Vlad van Valerik’s eyes, watching her, demanding of her, undressing her.
    She’d found the man’s gaze so unnerving at one point that she’d reached for Toma’s hand. A warm hand that felt strong under her fingers. The same hand, in fact, that hadn’t hesitated to draw a weapon and shoot one of the Russians dead only three nights earlier.
    Touching Toma had washed away her fears. She had no interest in the master of the Castle Castile or any of his comrades. Though she had to admit, they were alluring—those eyes! Dark with gray circles rimming the black moons at the center. Like a lunar eclipse. It frightened her, and if not for Toma’s reassuring hand, she might have left the