Page 66 of Hupotasso
“Had my say?” I shake my head. “Angie, I’ve only just begun, if you’ll just…”
“I hate you, Falcon,” she sneers. “I hate your castle, I hate your staff, I hate your mistresses, I hate your traditions. I hate everything about you and your life, and I want no further part in it. I don’t give a fuck what you have to say now or in the future. You’re a cruel, manipulative, blood-sucking monster, and I wish to god I’d never met you or your fucking mother.”
I’m shocked and angered at her vehemence, but I know that underneath she must still feel something for me or she never would have kept my mother’s secret. She did it to protect me. And if the closest thing to love is hate then her anger must also indicate she still cares, deep down. How far deep, though, would take some digging.
“Angie…”
“Don’t call me that. Only my close friends call me that, and you are anything but a friend to me, Lord Falcon Dragonspur.”
I nod and sit down heavily.
“What will it take to help you forgive me?” I sigh. “Tell me, I’ll do anything.”
“I want a divorce.”
I grit my teeth at her sharp reply.
“There is no divorce for royals. You know that. And even if I could give you one, I wouldn’t.”
“Then I want to go away. Far, far away, and never see you again.”
“Angelina, you try my patience,” I mutter. “You know I need to stay married and have an heir to meet my obligations to The Families. I’m trying to mend the fences here, to tell you how sorry I am for all I’ve done and seek your forgiveness…”
“I will never forgive you and never forget,” she hisses. “I hope The Families take your title, draw and quarter you or whatever the fuck is done to kill,reallykill, a vampire. That’s how much I HATE YOU!”
Her vehemence snaps the tight reins I’ve held on my temper since the attack on Mother, and I rise to my feet to face her. But before I can grip her forearms and shake some sense into her she slaps me hard across the face and spins to run.
And I lose control.
“If you won’t willingly be reasonable, I’ll make you reasonable,” I snarl, springing upon her and bringing her wrist to my mouth, my teeth bared.
Screaming and struggling, she thrashes like a mad thing as I push her to the floor and, pinning her with my weight, bite her arm before tearing at my own flesh and pushing my blood into the wound. Hupotasso is something I’d promised myselfI would never do to her — that I’d never fully become my father. But if controlling her until she understands the depth of my feelings is what I need to do, then so be it.
She sobs and writhes beneath me as I finish the bite and rise to my feet. Cursing and running my hands through my hairin agitation, I acknowledge almost instantly that I’d done the wrong thingagain.
“Fuck, Angie, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. You just pushed me too far. I…”
How can I tell her that she drives me crazy, that I’ve missed her these months like a drowning man misses land? How the brief glimpse of happiness and warmth we’d shared in The Games had eaten at my heart like a canker since the final ceremony. How I’ve swung back and forth between wanting to hold her close and push her away. How our conjugal visits were more satisfying to me, more meaningful, than all the sex from all the mistresses in the world. How the only person I’d wanted beside me when my mother was struck down, was her. And that her words tonight had pierced my heart like a dagger, causing me to, once again, desire that she share that pain. How I’ll do anything,be anythingfor her, but that I just don’t know how to navigate this chasm that I’ve caused between us.
‘How can I convey any of this?’
I lean down and offer her a hand to rise, but she curls into a tight ball and ignores my gesture.
Her words come out between sobs, and I cringe at her vehemence.
“I. HATE. YOU.”
Shaking my head at my stupidity I move to pour myself a drink, then a second and a third, each one burning a hot path down my throat and helping galvanise me before I turn to face her again.
“Get up off the floor,” I order brusquely.
She stares at me, her eyes full of the hatred she so vehemently professed.
“No.”
49
His words broke my heart. How long had I dreamt he would say all the things he’d said to me?
