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Sins of the Father

Caspian

The walls of my study close in on me by the second.

I loosen my tie, pacing as I’m plagued by torturous thoughts of how I’ve most likely ruined any chance I might’ve had of being even remotely happy in this lifetime. Not to mention, I also unraveled the one chance I had to ensure the security of the clan.

All in a single night.

“Shit!”

The glass of whiskey in my hand wizzes across the room, shattering against the wall. How the hell did I get here?

My thoughts are on Aunt Pen again. Whereas I’d thought for a moment that I owed her a bit of gratitude for having inspired my actions during dinner, I’m now tempted to put her out on her ass. But what good would that do me? What’s done is done, and if I’m honest, there’s no one to blame but myself.

“Fucking hell.”

I’m not entirely certain where I’m headed when I exit my study, snatching my tie off altogether before dropping it to the floor. My path becomes clear as I race up the stairs and across the catwalk above the dining hall. Glancing down to the scene of my earlier humiliation, I almost lose my nerve.

Almost.

It’s the sheer strength of my desperation that keeps me pressing forward, and my feet don’t stop until I’ve reached Annalise’s door. Surprise fills her guards’ expressions, but they collect themselves quickly, nodding as a show of respect.

“Good evening, Alpha.”

“Good evening,” I echo. “You’re both dismissed for the night.”

Their eyes are questioning, but they know better than to express their curiosity out loud.

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison, and I watch them round the corner before I face Annalise’s door, questioning everything.

Whether I said too much at dinner.

Whether I should even be standing here, knowing she’d rather not hear from me.

But the one decision I’m certain of is that the Consort Elects have no place here—in my home, in my life.

In hers.

“Annalise,” I call out as I finally get up the nerve to knock, and as expected, no answer.

My forehead falls against the door, and I’m defeated. Again, it crosses my mind that there isn’t a soul underneath this roof with the authority to deny me access to any corner of this estate, but I’ve been a brute too long. Running over her—trampling her will, stealing her voice—is what got me here in the first place.

“Annalise, please.”

Again, my request goes unanswered. The thundering inside my chest is so unfamiliar, but I can hardly say that now, because it seems this one woman causes my heart to go wild every time she’s near. Even if near simply means on the other side of a door.

I slowly squeeze my hand into a fist at the memory of what her skin feels like against my palm. Not to mention, her scent lives inside my mind, there to recall it whenever I’m in need. But these memories eventually fade, and I’m left longing for the one I’m no longer allowed to have.

That sense of defeat intensifies, and I lower to the floor for a second time tonight. Not on my knees this time, but I may as well be as I find myself seated outside her bedroom. My back settles against the wall as I stretch my legs out before me, wondering if she even cares that I’m here, wondering if my effort is even registering with her.

“I’m…”

My voice trails off as the war within me intensifies. My ego is disgusted by what I’ve become—a begging, weak version of the man I was even this morning. But my heart… it’s screaming at me that I have yet to do enough to make up for all the harm I’ve caused her.

And as seems to be the case so often these days, my heart wins the battle.

“I’m not leaving,” I state firmly. “You can refuse to open your door, but I’m not moving from this spot.”

There’s only silence on the other side of the threshold, and while it’s disheartening, I’ve come to expect it.

“My parents’ union was never about love. Yes, they grew to be fond of one another, and they respected one another, but… love was never a factor. Everything between them was always so… transactional.”

I’m reminded of an incident that took place when I was no more than twelve. It was autumn, that much I remember. The crisp air is what stands out to me the most. We hosted a dignitary from Clan Eris that weekend, and Father was entertaining him outside in the courtyard. Mother had gotten a call from Aunt Susan, letting her know that their sister had passed away. It was the first time I’d seen Mother shed even one tear, but her voice remained calm when she told me to go let Father know what had taken place.

I raced across the courtyard, feeling this impending sense of urgency as I zoomed down the stone pathways, hurdling rose bushes, thinking I was delivering pertinent news. News that would spur my father into action in Mother’s hour of need. But when I got there, out of breath as I explained, his only response was for me to get inside and collect myself. He stooped down to whisper that it’s unseemly for a man to get so worked up and involved in matters of emotion, but… that was the end of it. He sent me on my way, then continued his conversation as if I’d said nothing. I remember being so confused, hearing the men sharing a laugh when their conversation picked up right where they left off. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t already inside, holding Mother while she grieved.

“I know their interaction is no excuse for anything I’ve done, but… I only mean to explain that it affected me. While I longed for a union built on love, I suppose I never expected it. Which is why, when it arrived, when you arrived, I didn’t immediately recognize what was happening.”

I fall silent, processing the intense feelings that rush through me. I was raised to hold it all in, because as Father so diligently stated, ‘it’s unseemly for a man to get worked up and involved in matters of emotion.’

“Like I said, I wanted love, but the idea of going after it, basing my life on the idea of finding it, felt… inherently selfish.”

I lower my head when those words hit me. Now that I’m awake, my recent ways of thinking all sound quite archaic. Having love and being loved isn’t selfish.

It’s necessary.

“I fucked up. No one knows that more than me. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I’m asking for it anyway. No, I’m begging for it. Because I’m desperate for you, and I always will be.”

I breathe deep, feeling how she’s changed me. It’s so clear to me now that I’m no longer fighting it.

“It’s okay if you don’t open your door tonight. You’re well within your rights,” I say. “But I’m well within mine to keep trying. For however long it takes for you to not only hear that I love you, but to feel it. That’s my goal. For you to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am completely and irrevocably in love with you, Annalise.”

I listen closely when movement inside her room grows louder. For a moment, I’m hopeful that I might’ve gotten through to her, but when the faint light beneath her door fades to darkness, I realize she’s simply gotten up to blow out her candle.

And just like that flame, the short-lived hope disappears, too.

However, I’m not giving up so easily. She may not let me in today, or even tomorrow, but when her heart finally does soften toward me again… I intend to be here waiting.