Page 43 of Wedlock
“Yes, I wasn’t amused either,” I frown at her, “but it seems we’ve all played nicely into her hands and everything is going to work out as she likes anyway.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Mother chokes before spluttering again. “You didn’t tell the Princess I chose Angelina?”
“I’m not stupid, Mother.”
“Falcon,” she whispers, her eyes still the size of saucers. “If what you say is true, and all along you were meant to marry, dispense with your human wife, put your heir in this seat and move to Denmark, then should the Queen discover I tampered with the selection process…that I chose someone specifically for you…”
“Again,” I sigh, “I’m not fucking stupid. I made that deduction within seconds. You and she are both playing dangerous games at cross purposes. Your secret’s safe with me. And, as I said, everything worked out as she wanted anyway.”
“How so?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“Mother, there’s no love between me and the wife you chose for me. My entire marriage has been a scam and a nightmare; hell, there isn’t even a legitimate heir to mitigate all the other shit I’ve had to deal with, although you claim there is. Why not just cut all the crap? Why wouldn’t I dispense with them both and marry Revna? In fact, maybe you should have let the Princess deal with them; it would have saved a long, protracted lie from continuing. You said it yourself a thousand times: the Queen always gets what she wants. Why fight it? The way I see it, everything has worked out as it should. This seat will dissolve and I’ll live out my days fucking and sucking and ruling a land far, far away from here, where I’ll never have to even think about a human woman again, other than as a meal.”
Mother shakes her head as tears begin to roll down her cheeks.
“My darling boy,” she whispers. “What have I done to you?”
Snorting, I stand and walk to the door. She knows damn well what she’s done.
“You can’t run from your heart,” she murmurs as I walk out.
‘Watch me.’
31
The fact that my door is unlocked speaks volumes for Eleanor believing me when I said I was under Viper’s thrall.
She told me before she left to see Falcon that she believed me, that she’d trusted me in her heart all along, and that she was appalled at herself for continuing the legacy of keeping a Dragonspur lady imprisoned in her castle. She’d added that she would do everything in her power to make it right.
I suspect much of her newfound contrition stemmed from my telling her that the baby was indeed Falcon’s and that I’d only slept with Jag after I was pregnant. But trust works both ways, and she’s a fool if she thinks I’m going to trustherafter everything she’s said and done. I have no intention of doing as she hopes, of reuniting with Falcon and declaring mylove, of trying to convince him the baby is his and seeking his forgiveness for everything that’s happened. Quite the opposite. I fully intend to leave this hell-hole. He can have his vicious, bloodthirsty blonde princess.
My neck still smarts from her bite, the slut.
As to why she’d hated the taste of my blood, I don’t know, but Falcon never liked it either, so who knows? Maybe I just take like crap. Bonus. I’ll take any advantage I can get over vampires, because I’m going to need all the help I can get if I ever want to see my friends and family again and regain my freedom. And it’s not just for me. I want my babies to grow up together, and I want to be there every step of the way, guiding them to becomegoodvampires, if there can ever be such a thing. If I’m to do all this, I know the only answer is to, once again, run. But not before I do everything in my power to ensure the other victim of Viper’s monstrosity doesn’t suffer any further for what he did to free me from the thrall. I’ll do whatever I can to save Jag from my husband’s wrath. It’s the least I can do.
With that in mind, I turn when I reach the end of the hall and head for Falcon’s study, my heart hammering at the thought of having to face him.
Out of nowhere the VBG contestant mantra pops into my head, and I say it out loud.
“I’m beautiful. I’m confident. I’m strong.”
“What the actual fuck?” I whisper, shaking my head as I stride. “Where the hell did that come from?”
The last two words of the mantra still come through, though, making me want to slap myself for even remembering them, let alone thinking them.
“For Falcon.”
32
My door opens without anyone knocking, and I let out a low growl as I turn from the fire, fourth drink in hand, to see who’s invaded my privacy, my rage about to be unleashed on whomever the unfortunate trespasser turns out to be. But the words still on my tongue when I see her.
She’s wearing the blue velveteen tracksuit she wore in the first days of our marriage, when my cousin was charged with helping her choose clothes for her grand tour of all the contestants. When I still thought she’d been placed in The Games by Spider.
I swallow hard at the memory of tearing down those pants and spanking her on the ballroom floor. And of what had followedafter. And I can’t help but wonder if, even then, she was under my brother’s thrall and sleeping with my best friend. Even then, and it guts me.
