Page 75 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
She said she didn’t have feelings for him anymore. How could she possibly? No one could fake the fear she showed whenever she spoke of him.
Has he manipulated her all over again? In one visit, has he persuaded her to be his wife again?
Belladonna Thorne. Not Belladonna Moore.
My chest tightens like a snake squeezing it, the velvet box in my coat suddenly feeling like a lead weight. I cannot move. I cannot think. The woman I was ready to propose to, the woman I was willing to give my whole life to, is kissing another man, ready to give herself to him. He’s touching her where my hands were not a half hour before. He’s pulling down the strap of her dress, tugging it down her shoulder, then kissing her neck.
This is my fate. Retribution for my sins and the Thorne bloodline returning its vengeance against me. It’s why he could sense me. And now, he will take what I love most in this world. And she will go with him.
Everything inside me shatters.
29
“You’ll carry my child, or I’ll make sure you wish you had.”
BELLE
Something in me cracks at the sound of my old name—his name—sinking into my ears like poison. He’s crawling under my skin, infecting my blood. I’ll be damned if I let him get to my heart.
Thaddeus slides his hands along the side of my body, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. When he touches the base of my corset bodice, I snap. Because I knowexactlyhow to deal with Thaddeus Thorne. A fire sparks in me, melting the solidified ice in my veins.
He needs the hunt.No, Jack is not the only one.
Thaddeus hunted me first. This time, it’s worse. But I am not that girl anymore. And Thaddeus could never hunt me like my Headless Horseman.
Give him the chase. I calculate my next moves and words, forming a strategy. You can’t fight him. Heart lurching in my chest, I dodge to the side, knowing how it will play out. He will catch me. But I let the motion propel me forward anyway, using the momentary burst of control and freedom to grow the spark in me.
I dash toward the counter, rushing for the taser hidden beneath it.
Thaddeus’s laughter echoes like a dark promise, a predator reveling in the chase. “Still running,wife?”
Just as I expected, he lunges, his hand striking the taser from my grip as easily as knocking aside a toy. The sting of failure burns, but I don’t falter. Because Thaddeus does not fucking own me. He’s not in my mind. He’s not inside my heart. I’ll never let him in again.
He’s still playing his game. The hunt must come first.
My breath heaves and cleaves as Thaddeus seizes me, dragging me back to him with a grip like iron. He slams me against the counter, pinning me with his body, pressing me down. Chest to chest. His hands chain my wrists on either side of me. My steel cage.
One strong hand binds my wrists together, and the other comes around my throat. Firm, unyielding, but not strangling. Not yet. Ripping the scarf away, he exposes my skin. He’s justshowing his power. But I remember the shape of his fingerprints on my flesh.
“I look forward to finishing our honeymoon, my Belle,” he purrs darkly, the heat of his damning words ready to drown me.
I choke, swallowing hard and battling the sting of tears as his lips hover above mine—the sickly, seductive heat of his breath curling across my face. Thaddeus was always seductive. He still is. Down to the scar fracturing his face.
In seconds, I take in the sight of him—almost wanting to spit at how good the years have been to him. Maybe he’s been drinking the blood of demon babies. I try to hold onto that dark humor, but it’s too raw, and he’s too real. All the arousing but unnerving sensations creep across my skin.
I want to fight him with every breath in my body. My muscles scream to attack him. Bile swirls in my stomach because I know I can’t. If I spit, snarl, and bang my fists, it will only give him what he wants.
Thaddeus is a double-edged sword. One side is the battle, which he will win. The other is the king sitting on his throne, knowing he has won. He is one side and the other—always both—never in between.
I am his prey. Or his trophy queen. I’m staring down the barrel of the loaded gun of my own helplessness. So, I must become the thinnest edge between those sides.
My ex-husband twists his smile to one side, leaning in more, nuzzling my neck, inhaling deeply. Oh, god, he’s smelling me. A lock of his perfectly polished dark hair falls upon my cheek. My heaving breath turns to ragged gasps, my pulse rioting, threatening to shut my heart down. But I can’t let that happen. Thaddeus will have no hesitation. He will carry me if I am kicking and screaming, surrendering, or passed out.
Dominating tenderness is one of many weapons in his arsenal. “Breathe,” he commands, and I steady my breath. Not because of him.
“Your heart is my heart.”
Jack. His voice hunts my mind, overthrowing the deep timbre of my former husband.
