Page 97 of His True Beloved

Iwantedtokillhim myself.

And here I was, holding my beloved in my arms, gently stroking the back of her head. I wanted nothing more than to destroy her father, but she clutched me too tightly. For now, I would hold her close, keep her safe in my arms but soon, I would get her the justice she deserves.

Vanessa and Christine listened to dropped bombs of hidden truths in just minutes of each one. Who knew what other secrets the warlock held, but I was sure that this assassin standing before us knew very well what they were.

It was no coincidence that the assassin was here. The Death Flock had a purpose: to take care of their intended target. This made me believe that Broderick was being hunted.

“Get them to the bunker!” Rowan shouted, shaking us all from our thoughts. Suron stood there with his popcorn bag on the floor. His mouth hung open. I could smell the blood tears in his eyes when Broderick spoke of the death of these babies. Suron had a soft heart that loved to care for the younger generations.

Rowan’s warriors stepped in, all bowing lowly to the nameless assassin. The grin didn’t leave the assassin’s lips as he followed them out the door and to the prison in a bunker-type accommodation somewhere in the forest.

Rowan bowed at all of this, his eyes softening when they landed on Christine. “I want to express my condolences, Christine. I hope you can pass that on to your mother.” My beloved nodded, and her fingers tightened around my dress shirt. “I will have the assassin extract as much information from the witches and your father.” Rowan darted to the window, watching vampires trudge them through the thickness of the trees. “Ultimate demise is death?” he muttered. Christine could only nod, her head leaning into my chest. “Very well.” Rowan departed, and I pulled Christine to the couch.

Being the ever gracious host, Adaline already had tea on the table. Her usual neat bun I saw her wear when entertaining guests was pulled and stretched. Hair tendrils fell around her face, and if vampires truly aged, she looked like she had aged ten years.

“I’m sorry I’m not much help.” She poured a cup of tea. Flinging in two cubes of sugar and a splash of cream, she held it out to Christine. “I’m not very good with confrontation, much like Vanessa. We are strong in other ways, however.” She softly smiled.

Christine swirled her tea, looking at it longingly like it would bring her siblings back to her. “How did you remember how I liked my tea?” Christine whispered. “That was so long ago.”

“Wasn’t that long, dear.” Adaline sat across from us. She waved for Suron to come to sit with her and patted the seat. The cheerful Suron now resting his elbows on his thighs and the distant look in his eyes appeared again. He was certainly not one that took death lightly, even with those he had never known.

“Feels like it,.” Christine took her index finger, tracing the lip of the cup. “But I suppose it has only been a month since I’ve been here, right?” She chuckled. “Mom got her mate, I’ve got mine, found out my dad was an ancestor to a warlock and pulled his genes to the surface, lost two siblings, and I was given up as payment to some incubus.” Christine’s tone was so plain that one would think she read it off the back of the cover of a novel.

“Darling girl.” Adaline leaned forward. “Life was never meant to be easy, but at least you have been blessed with the kindest beloved.” Christine didn’t waste time, turning her head. She leaned into me as I kissed her forehead.

It was wonderful to know she leaned on me for emotional support. My beloved had spent so much time alone, living a whole life that was a lie, and now that it had all come to the surface, she still trusted and relied on me.

That was something I would hold dear. Christine may have believed that it was weak to rely on me, but it wasn’t in the slightest. Not when I was her beloved, to care and take care of her. It made me feel strong, that my life meant something, to take care of her.

It made me feel powerful.

I rocked my beloved in the oversized rocking chair to sleep. Christine held her stuffed animal, Bob, as she called him to her chest like an innocent child. In ways, maybe she felt close to her siblings, holding onto something meant for a child. It was certainly well-loved.

Christine hadn’t said much after I had her shower and dress for the evening. Her heart felt heavy in my chest as I felt its steady rhythm. It was now that I was jealous of shifters and their ability to link into the minds of their mates. I was one of the talentless vampires. Only blessed with my age and strength. You could suppose I was a good merchant, able to stretch a gold coin or two to last me for weeks at a time.

Maybe that was what I would do when we arrived back in Bergarian. Help manage a budget, help it grow, help stimulate the economy, and grow it in new ways never thought of before. Of course, all being approved with Queen Taliyah of course.

Christine had fallen asleep hours ago, her fist still clutched to me. As much as I wanted to leave this chair and take care of her idiotic father, she needed me in my arms.

I had not meant for her to fall asleep like this in my arms. Instead, she had insisted I tell her stories of Bergarian. She wanted to know more about the new place, a new beginning for her and her mother to help her forget their old lives. Unfortunately, my country was in shambles for most of my life. I retold stories my own parents used to speak of. The animals, the trees, and the happy times there once were.

Christine said we would have a large part in rebuilding the Kingdom of Vermillion. She gave me specific details about how it was now reduced to rubble in her dream, no palace to be seen, and the people were gone.

My heart clenched, knowing the once beautiful palace my parents first met and how happiness befell them there. It once stood in grandeur and worshipped the idea of meeting mates at the many balls they held.

In a dark way, the palace that once stood was now cleansed from the dark magic of Darius and his father before him. A new nation would rise once Bergarian was rid of the evil. A silent tear left my cheek, dripping on my beloved’s dark silk nightgown.

Lifting her, I settled her into the bed, wrapping the sheets tightly around her body. I wanted to stay and tell her everything was going to be all right, but now there was something I had to do to help ease her pain. That was to finish off the scum.

My body clad with dark attire, knowing well that I would be getting bloody this night, I stepped out of the bedroom. Two guards stood by the door, both giving a curt nod before keeping their eyes on the hallways and windows.

The clicking of my shoes hit the wooden floor, my step increasing by the second. My fangs had already fallen, and my nails had already lengthened. Stepping into the forest where the prisoners lay in the bunker, I flung the cellar-like door open and shut it behind me.

Screams of pain filled the stagnant air, the smell of death slithering through the concrete hallways. Werewolves say that vampires smell of death, but what they couldn’t smell was the undertones of what death smelled like. The soul detaching from the body, the blood that was no longer filled with oxygen to keep the body alive could be detected by a vampire.

My speed increased as I ran past the prison rooms. Each one was empty until the very end of the hallway. Rowan was dramatic. Of course, he would have picked the very last cell to put them in. Prolong the anticipation to make their death that much sweeter.

The sound of the whip slapping skin perked my head up in surprise. Groans of pain echoed in the hallway. Rowan, who stood by in the darkened corner at the end of the hallway, held an evil smirk as he watched.

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