Kier
“It can’t be breached,” Lloyd explains and a disgruntled sound from the man seated beside me, whose aura rivals against mine greatly seems to set us all over the edge again.
“Do not speak in absolutes,” King Hunter murmurs, his grimace turning darker. “He doesn’t have enough of us to guard his foothold. Surely, an army of humans can’t be that lethal.”
Lloyd laughs, and it is nothing charming. He’d been the first I’d gone to for help after Randale convinced me that I’d get myself and Jessamine killed if I headed first into Ashbourne without a plan, and it had taken a lot of convincing to get him in here—the council room. “They have weapons and banes that’d render you useless in the twinkle of an eye. If you wish to bring him down, you must do it from within. An outright attack will if anything, help him kill your daughter quicker—and believe me, there is no level of relevance that would prevent him from doing that once he decides he has no use for her.”
Pain flickers behind Lloyd’s cold green eyes, but it was gone in a flash.
An idea sparks in the back of my mind. My gaze flicks over the make-shift structure of Hamon’s castle that Lloyd formed with the figurines. It had been a shock to discover from him that Atticus lived in the famous mortal castle and sat atop the throne with its ruler buried six feet under. How it had been a secret remains a shock to me and I wondered if my spies by the borders were in fact, still mine, judging from all the false new we’ve received.
“The guard detail. Infiltrating—”
“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I tried once and got caught.” A muscle jumps in his jaw. “They’re loyal and have regular check-ins with the captains. Getting one of your men into there without suspicion would take months of recruiting and moving up the ranks. She’d be dead by then. Or worse.”
Worse? I mused. What was worse than having my mate dead at the hands of a psychotic bastard? I shiver as the answer finds me. I don’t like it. I’ll kill him if he touches her that way. If he turns her…turns her into the empty shell of a being seated across me in Lloyd’s body. I have to get her back. I hate not knowing how she is. I hate that I run into a wall when I try to feel her. It’s taking all of me to maintain my composure.
King Hunter is no better. He rode through the night when he got Atticus’s letter. The one that had simply stated his daughter would live if he delivered my head to him. I can tell he’s considering it. I’ve caught him looking at my neck at least thrice, possibly wondering how much pressure he might have to apply to snap it. His expression was cold, empty, but from the constant tapping of his nails against the table, I could tell he was just as agitated as I was.
I sigh heavily, dropping my head in my hands. Atticus’s message lays heavy in my pocket. My surrender. Or her life. It really isn’t a difficult choice to make—
“Don’t.” I turn my gaze and pale blue eyes narrow at me. Looking at him hurts, because while Jessamine thinks she takes after her mother, she has more of her father in her. He stares at me like he can hear my train of thoughts and finds them distasteful. “Surrender and it’ll change nothing. He’s not going to kill her. She is much too useful to discard. It’d be a foolish move.” He clucks his tongue and his eyes shutter. “He only wishes you dead because he believes it will break her. A cruel, cruel game he’s playing.”
I have no idea how he deduced that in the span of minutes, but it leaves me feeling like a child in his presence. Not that it matters. He is decades older than I am anyway—my ears twitch and I pause, staring at Lloyd in a new light. “I’ll surrender.”
King Hunter gives me a withering look. “I have little patience for your antics, boy.”
Ignoring the old man, I turn to Lloyd. “You said the only way to bring him down was from within.” I spare my future father-in-law a glance—well, I suppose there’ll only be a future if my plan doesn’t get us killed. “You said he loves to play games.” I smile bitterly. “He won’t kill me if I surrender.”
Randale groans. “No, he won’t. He’ll just torture you and keep you on a leash like his fucking dog, using you to torture Jessamine, and her you. I can only imagine how entertaining that will be. Might as well arrange for your funeral while we’re at it.”
I can tell Randale is worried, though he shows it in the most incredible ways. I hold up a hand, silencing him. “Lloyd will take me there. As prisoner.”
Lloyd stiffens, his eyes darkening. “I will not return to that place.”
Clasping my hands on the table, I lean back in my seat. “He wouldn’t doubt it if you, specifically, turned me in.” I see the refusal in his eyes, coupled with a fear rooted too deep that it makes his skin pale and I know asking will do me no good. So, I stop. “I have given you a home, the best treatments, and protection. I have given you my time and patience. Yet, you give nothing in return for the woman who saved your life. Where’s your honor? Did he strip that away too?”
Lloyd lunges, his teeth snapping in my face, and the guards move closer, ready to hold him down. “You sent me there to die! You abandoned me!”
Guilt, thick and heavy stirs from within, but I crush it. I stare at him coldly. “I did not. I went to Dawn for you, Lloyd, and I am sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner—”
“And just like everything else, you put the kingdom first, your council, your fears before the people you claimed to care about! Why should I help you? If you require a reward for letting me stay in the pack, I’ll empty out my coffers and leave before dawn!”
I prop my chin on my fist and nod. “Dale? Escort him out.”
“What?” Randale’s voice catches in surprise, and I wave dismissively. “Take him back to the borders. We have no use for him here. The pack is family; loyal to each other. We’ve had quite a hard time seeding out the outsiders and punishing traitors. I’d rather not have to do it again.”
But he has nowhere to go. He’s unwell, I hear Randale say through the mind-link half a second later. I don’t respond because I’m too busy staring Lloyd down. Stubborn. Defiant. Angry. Hateful. I see too many emotions take over his face, swiftly changing. Unstable. But it doesn’t matter if he’s lost his mind. He is my Gamma, and I, his Alpha. He will obey me.
He looks away first, a sneer curling his lips. “I owe you nothing. My allegiance doesn’t lie with you anymore.”
“Then you’d best find where to put it else you’ll be moved to the newest rooms in the dungeons. I hear the dark scares you,” I croon cruelly, and it hits its mark because his fingers start to tremble. He takes his hands off the table to hide his fear from me, and just as Randale reaches his seat to escort him out, he caves.
“When do we leave?” His voice is harsh, his words forced.
“Once everything else is set in place.” Turning myself in is only a small part of the plan. Rescuing Jessamine might be top priority, but ensuring Atticus ceases to exist has to be done as well. If his men are as loyal as they say, then it doesn’t end with killing him. I can hardly accomplish that with Lloyd and myself alone. I need to breach the castle, and it might take some time, but I’ll achieve that. I can only hope I get to Jess in time.
**********
Jessamine
“Her body won’t take the next doze,” I hear the physician warn over the pain spearing my entire being. A tear slides down my cheek and even the attempt to turn my neck takes too much strength from me. I’ve never been this weak in my entire life.
“Administer. It,” Atticus growls.
We’ve been at it for days now and I’ve lost count of how long its been. Tonic after tonic of poisons, all to terminate the life growing inside me. Nothing works and all it’s done is make me sickly. I couldn’t lift a glass of water if it’d save me from dying from thirst. I can hardly chew whatever I’m fed. Or keep it down.
The old human shakes his head and drops the vial. It shatters, its contents spilling across the floors. “I’m afraid I cannot do it, sire. I will not have the blood of both mother and child on my—"
Atticus’s wrist snaps and I watch, too weak to even feel terror as his fingers latch onto the male’s throat and he tears it out. The stench of blood causes my stomach to tighten and I puke all over the bed, unable to stomach the sight of the human gurgling, choking on his blood because he chose not to administer another treatment.
Atticus appears by my side a second later and his nostrils crinkle with disgust as he stares at the mess I’ve made on the sheets. “You’re wasting away, dove.” He reaches for my lips, brushing his knuckle over a smudge of vomit. “I’ll get a better physician. You’ll get better once it is out of you.” His eyes are worried as he gazes over me, and I know I must look like death if he lets his vile feelings surface like this.
“Let me keep it,” I sob. “Please.”
His lips tighten. “As long as it breathes, you will think of him. it will gift you hope. That is a dangerous thing. It’ll become impossible then, to truly claim you in every sense of the word and make your body and heart mine.”
I have no rage left in me. I only have pain and the fluttering heartbeat I feel every now and then, entwining with mine. I have heard nothing about Kier. I don’t know if he’s tried to come for me and got captured instead. I have no idea what’s happened outside this room since that night because I’m either being sedated or poisoned. Even now, my eyes drift close, the darkness lulling me. I have no idea if I can hold out for him any longer. I’ll lose our child if I do. I’ll need to find a way out of this myself because the chances that he’ll succeed in rescuing me are too low.
I force my eyes to focus on the blue of Atticus’s. “If you let me keep it, I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
His pause is the only sign of his surprise and he lowers himself beside me. “Anything, dove? You must not understand what that entails, for you to give it so freely.” He takes a lock of my hair, sifting it through his fingers. “And I couldn’t possibly trust your word. Not after your betrayal.”
Anger flashes, and I find myself spitting at him, “I didn’t betray you. It was you who was stupid enough to believe I’d choose you over my mate.”
“But you would do it now, why?”
Best to be truthful. I have a feeling he’d know if I lied anyway. “I’m not choosing you. I’m choosing me. I don’t want to die from your countless attempts at aborting my child.” At this point, I’m beginning to ramble, mixing lies and truths together, grasping at anything to throw at him that might be even a little endearing. “I’ll be the dove you want me to be. I’ll marry you. If you let me have my baby. If you promise that even after that, no harm will come to us. No one will know he isn’t yours.”
There’s a dark glint in his eyes that tells me I have him where I want, but I can’t tell what exactly it is I have said that got his attention. He seems to think deeply as he plays with my hair and face, and though his touch is appalling, I do nothing to recline from it.
He smiles at me, his eyes as bright as the flames I’ll set on him when I get the chance. “We’ll conduct a ceremony tonight then.” He drags his fingers down my neck, lingering on my breasts and his eyes turn greedy as he…he…I swallow a sob, willing my emotions away from my face. He lets them go with a sigh, his eyes resting on the wall. “Seven months is a long time to wait to touch you like I want to, but I do suppose it is worth it.”
Touching a woman with another male’s mark on her is considered wrong, but a woman carrying another man’s child? It is outright repulsive and I must thank the Goddess that Atticus’s psychopathic tendency doesn’t override that.
He looks up when someone knocks and the door creaks. “Sire, the elders are here.”
Another ragged sigh. “I must leave you now, but before that, I’d like to see just how eager you are to live.” He leans in. “Kiss me.”
A wave of nausea shoots through me and I stomp it down before I can puke again, this time, on his face. I let Darrock kiss me goodbye a few days ago, and he’d gone and handed me over to the enemy. What’s adding one more frog to the list? It takes all of my effort to push myself up my elbows, but I do it and press my lips against his. I intend for it to be short, but Atticus has other plans. His fingers splay around my neck, his thumb stroking the spot under my ear affectionately as forces his way into my mouth, the heavy taste of liquor burning my tongue.
Soon, he traps me under him, ignorant of the puke, and his grip on my wrist is painful as he deepens the kiss, groaning as he pulls back, only to brush them against my neck softly. He cusses violently when he sniffs me and scrambles off me with his hands hiding the oh-so large bulge in his pants, and when he stares at me again, his eyes are filled with fear.
Because he knows I’ve come to the same shocking realization that he has. He isn’t just doing all of this because he is depraved. Atticus wants me so much, it startles even him. And that, gives me power over him.