Page 9 of Shattered Vows

“Whatever I want.” His words are sinister.

A shiver runs up my spine, but I’m unsure if it’s because of the dark promise in his voice or from fear. Hopefully the latter, otherwise there is something very, very wrong with the way my body reacts to him.

Kol pushes a hand into his pocket and produces an old skeleton key, which he puts into the keyhole of the door. The audible click of the lock echoes down the hallway as he twists the key, unlocking the door. The sound seems to signify death… my death.

He swings the door open and pushes me inside. “Walk.”

A set of stairs spirals up, and panic makes my heartbeat race as I consider where it leads.

“Go.” Kol’s voice is at my back.

I lift the skirt of my wedding gown at the front, taking the first step with his breath at my neck. My dress slips out of my grasp, and I stumble over the hem a few times, but Kol doesn’t offer any assistance. Why would he? He loathes me and is hell-bent on paying me back for embarrassing him at the altar years ago. The yearning for my mom and Alistair hits me hard, and I stifle a sob.

The muscles in my thighs burn by the time I reach the top. I’m greeted by another thick wooden door with ornate carvings on it. Without a word, Kol brushes past me and inserts the same key into the lock before pushing the door open. We’re at the top of one of the spires I spied from outside.

He waves me forward, and I swallow hard while my chest grows even tighter, as though someone keeps tightening and tightening a band around it.

Slowly, I step inside and look around. It’s a circular room with a bed on one wall between two of the arched windows and the usual bedroom dresser and furnishings scattered throughout. A large ornate carpet rests under the bed, and a small sofa and two chairs sit in front of a large, open fireplace. On the wall to the right of the bed is a set of doors that appears to lead out to a balcony.

Kol motions to a door on the left that is on the only wall built into the room. “Bathroom.”

He says it as though there are no other bathrooms in this monstrous house for me to use. My stomach drops at the realization that this is where he plans to keep me. I’ve traded one prison for another, only this one will be worse than living with an overprotective mother because I have a feeling I’m to stay here by myself.

I whip around to face him. “You’re going to keep me up here like a prisoner?” My throat closes.

“Only until I decide what to do with you.”

I try to suck oxygen into my lungs, but my mouth dries, and I gasp from the squeezing of my chest. My heart races as though it’s building up into a crescendo and soon will stop completely. I clutch at the fabric at the front of my dress, as if that will signal to my body and my racing thoughts to let me get air into my lungs.

I try again, but it’s just another wheeze.

My eyes water as Kol glares. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I crumple to my knees, hitting the hardwood, bent over, hands splayed on the floor, my back arching as my chest heaves, feeling strangled from the air. I do my best to calm my racing heart, my fear and anxiety rising about being trapped like one of those fairytale princesses until he decides to let me go or I free myself. Kol crouches beside me. For a moment, I take his reaction for kindness.

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me to let down my guard? If so, it’s a waste of time.”

I ignore his comment, trying to get my breathing under control as the air wheezes in and out of my lungs, but it’s not working. More panic flares inside me, and my lungs constrict further. My eyesight blurs, and I clutch at my throat with one hand.

I’m going to die. In a dress I planned to wed another man in with the man I originally wanted to marry right by my side.

Kol’s large hand falls to my back. “Breathe. Just calm down and breathe.”

Heat from his paw-like hand seeps through my dress, and my body starts to calm. For the first time in minutes, a small amount of air fills my lungs, and my mind clears from the sheer panic. I concentrate on the feel of his hand rubbing up and down my back and use it as a distraction to even my breathing and allow my heart rate to slow.

After a minute or two, I sit back on my heels, my breathing near normal. I scrub at the tears and black marks on my hands tell me mascara has streaked down my face.

Kol shifts to rest in front of me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the expression on his face was of concern. “Does that happen often?”

He doesn’t bother to ask what exactly happened. He’s clearly figured out I had a panic attack.

“Sometimes.” I push up off the floor to stand.

His hand wraps around my arm, and I rip it out of his hold. He doesn’t need to know that I never had a panic attack until after our supposed wedding day. I straighten and meet his scowl.

“I’ll go get you something to change into.” He turns and walks toward the door, closing it behind him.

Just as I think he’s being nice, the click of the lock falling into place reminds me that I’m not here because he was desperate to have me.

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