Page 22 of Wedlock
“Exactly.”
His lip curls at my outrage.
I swallow hard. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him Ihatehim. But as much as I feel exactly that right at this moment, I know the bigger picture is that I’m reeking with the stench of jealousy right now, and I don’t hate him; those are Viper’s words.
I love him, only him.
Before I can say the words, I pull my head in and slam the door.
18
I shake my head as I vault down the stairs to the waiting car, Mother hot on my heels. My Lear is already warming up on the runway; I don’t have time to waste.
Angie’s face when she’d seen me come out of Benita’s room had cut me to the core. It was the same expression she’d worn the first night of The Games when I’d killed the contestants and found her cowering under the bar, a bottle of whisky tucked under her arm.
That night, she’d believed me to be a monster too.
I hadn’t wanted to kill Benita, not really. Well, yes, I had. But not for the reason I did it. My hand was forced ostensibly because she’d seen Angelina. But really, deep down, I’d killed her to punish all human women — I’ve done it on more than one occasion lately, and this unhealthy desire has to stop, unless I want to wear the skin of a monster all my days.
Unless I truly want to become my father.
And as for my wife’s assertion I was a hypocrite, that I’d slept with others and was punishing her for one indiscretion…I don’t know. I mean I’m a fucking royal, of course I had mistresses. Until I met her it never crossed my mind this would be an issue. But for her to cheat… all I know is that when she’d mentioned sleeping with someone else I’d wanted to discipline her, physically. And the way I am right now, that might have ended badly for her. I can’t afford her death right now, politically or emotionally.
It’s not lost on me that I’m a fucking mess.
Mother keeps harping, determined to make me explain myself, but I don’t slow down as I continue to stride away from her.
“But why now, Falcon? I thought if she moved to the North Wing you’d be happy and you’d stay.”
“Happy? Happy, Mother?”
I laugh harshly at her sad expression.
“You know what I mean, darling.”
I reach the car door, my chauffeur standing to attention, and turn back to her as she steps forward and puts one hand on the edge of the door, and another on my forearm.
“Falcon…”
“Mother, I can’t be happy being under the same roof as her.”
I don’t add that I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again. That something’s changed, somethingfundamentalhas changed inside me. It started in The Games and it hasn’t stopped. That even keeping a woman, a human woman, as a mistress now feels dangerous. Because now I know I can feel foroneof them, I don’t feel comfortable aroundanyof them.
I know leaving now will also mean forgoing a promise I’d made to another woman, another human woman who’d sought more often than not to manipulate me. I’ve decided I will not take Sophie from Spider. Not now, at least. She’s made her bed; she can lie in it. Right now I can’t think about any human woman without feeling ill. And that includes my mother. I was telling the truth when I told Wolf I’d abandoned my relationship with Princess Revna because I trusted my mother explicitly.
But that was then. And this is now.
As much as I love my mother — there’s no denying that — there’s also no denying that she, too, betrayed me. Even though she’d done it with the best intentions, she’d put Angelina in The Games. She’d gone behind my back and rigged the opportunity for me to choose a wife. In doing so she’d undermined my free will and ultimately broken my heart. Even Giselle would have been a better choice than the woman Mother chose. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have also lost my closest friend.
I leave now not just because I want to get away from my wife and her bastard son, but because I need to get away from the machinations of the woman who birthed me, and I need to findmyself.
Wolf’s right. I need to be around my own kind.
“Mother,” I lean forward and kiss her quickly on both cheeks. “You shit me to tears. You, her, this castle, all talk of heirs, The Families, our tradition, our honour, this title. Everything fuckingmakes me want to disappear — it’s making me disappear. Can’t you understand? I don’t know who I am any more. I’m not who I was, and I sure as hell don’t know what I’m going to become if I stay. So, if you don’t mind, get your fucking hand off the car door.”
She gasps and steps back, her face draining of all colour as I get into the car and nod to the driver.
I can’t recall ever speaking to her with such disrespect, and I know it was wrong.
