Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

away, and he grabbed her by her hair and dragged her over to Manolito, holding her there while he forced her to watch him lapping at the blood pulsing from her lifemate's throat.
    Manolito discovered there were far worse things than physical torture. He told himself it wasn't really MaryAnn, but his eyes and brain refused to believe him. He told himself Kirja was long dead and gone from the living world, but the blood and screams were all too real. He shuddered as Kirja continued to beat her. He felt his stomach rebel when the vampire committed further perversions on her, every atrocity Maxim could think of, and he could think of many.
    Manolito had no way to stop the images, so he tried to shut down his emotions. There was no way. In this land, he was meant to feel emotions—they all were—and the emotions were amplified a thousand times. He knew now how the undead could drive a spirit mad. He couldn't compartmentalize; he had to feel every blow, every sick, disgusting thing MaryAnn had to endure. His lungs burned for air. His hands trembled. He curled his fingers into a fist to… what? They had no bodies. This was a mind game. They were waiting for him to break. The hope was that he would merge with MaryAnn to check on her, to ease his own suffering.
    He shook his head. "I will never let you have her, Maxim, no matter what you do to me. No matter what you show to me."
    Kirja plunged his fist into MaryAnn's chest and pulled out her heart, holding it high in the air while she screamed. Manolito's body jerked, but he stood impassive. If his fate was to endure the next centuries feeling her pain and watching her torture, he would do so. They could not have her. It may have been only minutes, or hours—time meant little in this place—but it seemed lifetimes, centuries, watching the other half of his soul being forced to endure whatever Kirja, Maxim or Draven conceived. The sound of MaryAnn's pleas and screams, the images of her torture were burned forever into his heart, his mind and even deeper into his soul.
    "He cannot love her to stand there like that," Draven said. "Any man would break if he saw his true lifemate so brutally handled."

    Manolito looked through him. Draven Dubrinsky would never know what love was. Manolito knew. He felt it in every blow of Kirja's hand, every kick of his feet, every touch on MaryAnn's body. An illusion. All illusion.
    He forced a smile when he could feel blood running down his body in rivers of sweat. That, too, was an illusion. "A game, Maxim, that is all. You play games with me and you know I will never break. You know me So keep it up if you must, but it seems childish, even for you."
    Maxim snarled, showing his pegs for teeth, and waved the illusion away.
    "Acknowledge me," Draven snarled, already furious that the Carpathian male wouldn't look at him.
    "I have no wish to speak with you, see you or in any way render you real," he said, watching Maxim more than Draven. Vlad's son had power, but it was Maxim who had the cunning and the hatred enough to return to destroy the Carpathian people.
    "I find it— distasteful —Maxim, that you would choose to spend time with one such as this. He caused the death of our beloved sister. You may have embraced him, but I do not wish to spend time with him. Do not think I fear one such as this reject from the Dubrinskv lineage. Long ago I would have welcomed the chance to take his life. It would have been nothing against the loss of one such as Ivory, but still, I would have welcomed it, as you should have, Maxim."
    He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Maxim, his tone dripping with contempt.
    Maxim growled, spittle running down his chin as he swung his head from side to side in a threatening manner. "Do not use that condescending attitude with me. Your disloyalty proved long ago whose side you were on."
    For the first time, Manolito allowed a whip of anger to seep into his voice, and he lashed Maxim with it. "Do not dare use the term disloyal when your sister's murderer stands at your side. You have sunk lower than I thought possible, becoming the dog for this foul abomination. Crawl on your knees to him, Maxim, like those who seek your approval. Lick his boots if you must. I have no further business with you, not when this…"
    Deliberately he waved his hand toward Draven. "This… piece of garbage is your master."
    "I am royalty," Draven snapped. " You should be on your knees to me."
    Manolito didn't bother to spare him a glance. He kept