Page 80 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
His lips curl into a smug smile. “That is your name. Why should I be surprised that my little Belle would find herself attached to the monster responsible for the curse of my bloodline? She has no idea what she’s done. Or how our fates have all been connected. Something quite immaculately recorded in the lovely Summoning book you left on the table.”
When I thrash and snarl, he leans forward, crooning, “It’s quite futile to struggle. I’ve injected you with something special, a chemical concoction that will keep you paralyzed until dawn. You’ll stay right here, buried in the cold earth where no one willhear you.”
Venom spews from my tongue, “Spineless, as ever, Thorne. Can’t face me in a fair fight. No better than your ancestor—a coward who murdered a woman and two children in cold blood.”
“Fair fight? How quaint, Jack.” Thaddeus’s voice holds no warmth, only detached calculation. “Fairness is a luxury for fools, not for conquerors. I’m not interested in some ridiculous display of valor or equality. Nor do I care about proving I’m stronger than my enemy. I care aboutwinning. This is about power, pure and simple. Survival of the fittest.”
He pauses, and I can almost feel his twisted sneer. The sight of the damp blood on his shirt from where Belle stabbed him does not escape me. “Do you believe I would allow any man, alive or dead or in between, such as yourself, to steal what is mine? Shortly before I set the fire, I saw you both from the bookshop. Moreover…I am still Belle’s husband despite what she feels. And I know all her secret hiding places.”
He laughs heartily, holding up a familiar book. Rage boils my blood. During the rare times Belle would not be knitting a new pumpkin, she wrote in her diary. A diary she filled with stories of her Headless Horseman. And…I swallow a hard knot at the danger of the book, one I should have prepared for.
Thaddeus curls his upper lip in clear revulsion over the black and white stills of my Belle in naught but her glorious skin—all taken with the antique camera she discovered in the manor library. Ones with me on my knees pleasuring her.
The real jackass waves the book like it’s a flag of honor. “Men like you disgust me—bowing to women as if they’re worthy of respect instead of submission. You undermine everything men like me stand for. You make us weak.”
Despite the fury coursing through my veins, I release a guttural laugh of scorn. “You think bowing to a woman makes a man weak? It takes more strength than you’ll ever know, Thaddeus. To truly master her, not through fear, but through love and respect—by possessing her very soul. Something you could never achieve. Not if you had a thousand lifetimes.” Fierce pride swells in my words. “And Belle is so far beyond you. You could climb astaircase to heaven for eternity, and you’d never even reach the gates of hell.”
Silence hangs for a moment, the tension thickening between us. I cannot deny the terror quaking my paralyzed insides at the thought of my wife falling into his hands. My one shred of hope, my one sliver of faith, is that the townspeople gathered around her, and Mrs. Kravitson must have done the rest. The Council would keep her safe. Even if I’m trapped in this miserable coffin and bound to the earth for eternity, she will never belong to Thaddeus again.
His eyes gleam, smile twisting into something sinister, macabre. “Love? Respect? Those are the fantasies of a man who’s forgotten what it means to rule. First and foremost, I am her husband, her king. I will make her mine again. She may not kneel willingly, but when I’m through with her, she’ll kneel. She’ll bear my children, and every time she looks at them, she’ll remember who truly mastered her. Not love. Not tenderness. But power. As a real man does.”
He paces around the grave, his tone growing darker. “I’m thirty-nine now, and you know what that means. How does it feel to know you are ultimately responsible for Belle’s fate? Once I fill her womb, given how she was the Summoner, and once you eventually expire, I know my bloodline’s curse will end.”
A howl pierces my mind, my blood congealing. Every bone in my body feels like ice that will never thaw. Because he is right…according to the laws of the curse. He will have her…forever.
“You are powerless, Moore,” he laughs like the devil he is, thrusting the shovel hard into the earth before returning Belle’s diary to his pocket. “You will be forgotten, left to rot in this hollow with any outlandish hopes and vows you intended.” Thaddeus chuckles darkly, retrieving something from his coat and revealing the glinting twinkle. I jerk and flail my head, snapping my teeth at the ring, the ring I planned for Belle to wear forever. “You have nothing to offer her now. Nothing but a dead man’s hope. You’ll never see your heart again, and your precious Belle—she won’t be saving you. But I’ll give her your regards.”
Thaddeus stops at the head of the grave, lookingdown at me one final time, the shovel poised to begin the burial. “Enjoy your eternal rest, Horseman. Belle will be in my bed while you lie in the dirt, heartless and headless.” He chucks the ring at me.
With a sound like final judgment, the coffin lid creaks closed. The darkness envelopes me like a black hole. A deeper fear than ever strikes me, surging crippling waves of helplessness through me. Wherever he’s buried me, I know I’ll never be found.
He seals me into an abyss of darkness and cold, and I cannot even look into my heart to find my beloved Belladonna.
31
“Better a beast without a head than a demon without a soul.”
BELLE
Istir awake, battling a disorienting haze as reality slowly creeps back.
The last thing I remember was standing in the crowd, watching the firefighters work tirelessly to save Belladonna’s Bookshop from the flames. Then, there was this sharp twinge in my neck before everything went black.
Now, as my eyes flutter open, the suffocating scent of wood and something far more sinister greets me. The familiarity hits me like a punch to the gut. This is the cabin—that cabin. The horrible place where Thaddeus and I shared our twisted honeymoon before I’d finally escaped. The blankets have been pulled back, showing crisp, white sheets. A fire crackles in the hearth on the opposite side of the room. Nine years later, but it’s the same chair where I once dared to read instead of servicing my husband like the demure bride I was meant to be.
Rage claws at my insides. I’ll be damned if I’m ever demure again.
I can still smell him. Blood, iron, and his raw masculine musk—overshadowed by a spicy cologne.
Panic surges through my veins at something harsh and thick biting my wrists. I look up to find thick ropes tying me to the bed frame. I glance down, blinking hard to clear the fog, my body tensing. My pulse quickens, but I fight to steady myself. I can’t afford to lose control. The last thing I want is for my heart to give out, for me to pass out.
The door creaks open, and there he is—Thaddeus. Horror ices my blood. Despite his disheveled appearance, arrogance and pride practically drip off him from his high and mighty posture to his sick and twisted smile.
His shirt collar is open with a few undone buttons, exposing his sweat-slicked muscles beneath the crisp white fabric. The blood from my stab wound has dried, but when he cracks his neck to one side, rolls his shoulders…and winces, a small sense of pride fills me. His black breeches cling to his form, and I shiver at the memory of the strength of his thighs and how he’d rammed me night after night, forcing me into a stupor of pain and forced pleasure—pleasure without emotion, without love, without the time and effort Jack puts into every single touch and kiss.
Thaddeus combs a hand through his polished black hair, tousled just enough to seem casual. He looks like a man fresh from battle. What was he doing all this time?
“Good to see you awake,” he says, crooking his smile more as he side-eyes me. His tone is calm, too calm, as he approaches. His confidence reeks of victory.
