Page 164 of Deceitful Vows

Too furious to see sense through the madness, I stomp my foot and throw my head back like I was taught during boxing classes.

Andrik grunts through the pain of his toes being stomped, but he dodges my headbutt by a cat’s whisker.

“For fuck’s sake,?????,” he growls out when I continue to fight.

“Don’t call me darling. I fucking hate when you call me that. You only ever say it when you’re trying to lie your way into my panties.”

Faster than I can click my fingers together, he arches me over the sofa in the den, tugs up my nightwear until it bands around my waist, rips off my panties without the slightest bit of protest from the stiff material, and then narrows his hand toward my ass.

“No,” I scream, squirming so hard that he has to pin me to the sofa cushion by splaying his hand across my lower back. “You donotget to spank me. Lying, cheating pieces of shit don’t get to spank?—”

He silences me with a firm crack on my right butt cheek.

“I havenevercheated.”

He spanks me hard on the ass again, this strike more disciplinary based than for pleasure.

“I have no reason to lie.”

Another two whacks augment the fire in my gut. They send it from raging with anger to scalding with need.

“And I am not the one who snuck around in the cloak of darkness with no care for who they were taking down in the process.” Almost every word he yells occurs with a spank, leaving my ass raw, red, and in desperate need of some TLC, which Andrik immediately commences undertaking while muttering, “That wasmyfather.” His hand freezes halfway across my burning cheek, his fingertips mere inches from the soaked seam of my pussy. “Ourfather.”

As quickly as he bent me over the sofa, he steps away from it.

When he races for a bar at the side of the den, I stand on a pair of wobbly legs. He fills a whiskey glass to the rim with a clear liquid that he downs with one gulp. He drags his hand along his wet lips to gather the leftover liquid on his mouth, its rattle undeniable.

I realize its shake is clattering through his entire body when he spins to face me. He looks as unhinged now as he did while announcing why his son was refused his heart transplant.

There’s so much shame in his eyes, so much hurt, I fold on my campaign to burn him at the stake as he was planning to do to Aleena in an instant.

This is about more than a sibling defending a sibling. I’m certain of it.

It isn’t even about a father protecting a son.

The fight is completely different when it comes to soulmates.

I only make it halfway across the den before Andrik slices his hand through the air, freezing my steps. “Don’t.”

The way he looks at me is more painful than his short rejection. He looks at me as if I am disgusting and that I willneverbe his first choice to mother his children or take on his last name.

His next statement proves my theories. “I went through with the ceremony today because I was hoping they’d keep their word. That they would give my son a new heart. They didn’t, so I no longer need to keep my side of our deal either.” His eyes fall to the floor. “We will take care ofthat”—he jerks his hand at my stomach—“then file for an annulment shortly after.”

My voice cracks when I ask, “My sister?” It wasn’t solely Andrik’s son’s health on my mind when I made my decision earlier today. Aleena’s unborn child was right there next to him.

I sigh in relief when Andrik answers, “Will be free to live her life how she sees fit.” I wonder just how closely this man has been watching proceedings this weekend when he says, “It came to light recently that she may not be the most suitable candidate for a future First Lady. Integrity is a big part of the role. Conceiving another man’s child is not exactly honorable.”

Too heartbroken to fight, I nod like I’m not as blindsided by his revelation now as I was when he announced that Aleena made out to him that I didn’t exist.

It also confirms my earlier assumption that her unborn child isn’t Andrik’s.

You only use gimmicks when you have nothing solid to tie you to them.

That was the first trick our mother taught us.

When Andrik commences walking away, I slow his steps by asking, “Will you ever tell me what I did wrong?” I could leave it there, but I’m too hormonal to act pleasant. “Then I can ensure I don’t make the same mistake with the next man whose name I want to notch on my bedpost.”

He almost bites at the bait I’m dangling in front of him. His hands ball into fists, and I can hear the crunch of his back molars as he grinds them together. But as quickly as my hope rises that the punishment he instigated earlier was just the start, it is flattened.

---