Page 3 of Wedlock (Vampire Bachelor Games #3)

I wake with a start, naked, and lie still, not sure where I am or what’s happened, my heart racing when I realise my baby’s not by my side.

I vaguely remembered a doctor visiting, but he’d given me an injection almost as soon as he’d walked into the room, so what he’d said or done to me after that I have no idea.

Struggling to sit up, I see Eleanor standing in the middle of the room holding my son, and my hand flies to my heart in relief.

She looks up and meets my eyes, her stare icy; a far cry from the gentle looks she’d bestowed upon me when I’d arrived here as the new Lady Dragonspur, escorted to the castle by Jag after my wedding, every staff member lined up in the rain to welcome me.

It’s not lost on me that this time I’d been delivered by Jag too, and both times I’d been scared shitless about what was to come. The difference is that this time I was only met by family, no staff, and the welcome from the woman before me had been anything but warm.

“How could you do this?” She asks as she walks to the bed and places the baby down beside me.

This isn’t the first time she’s asked this. I heard her shriek it to Jag as Falcon carried me indoors.

I hadn’t heard any response from Jag. I don’t know if he could answer; he’d seemed to be frozen.

I hope he left before Falcon did anything to him.

If I were him I’d have left as soon as I could.

But I know he probably tried to talk to Eleanor.

He has equally as much love and respect for her as he does for Falcon.

The only one he’d never had time for was the one who’d sown the seed of our destruction.

If Jag had the resentful and violent temper Falcon does, he might have lashed out and killed Viper.

But I know that’s just wishful thinking.

My mind is still under Viper’s control. And Jag wouldn’t do anything to deepen his rift with the ruler of this castle.

Knowing Jag he probably feels like Viper was right to expose our dirty little secret.

No, Jag wouldn’t have killed Viper, and he wouldn’t have run. His expression had said it all. He’s so full of guilt and pain, he’d stay to face Falcon because he wanted to be punished.

I focus now on Eleanor. I need her to tell me what her son’s plans are for me, and what happened after I was brought to this room. But, obviously, she needs to get her disgust off her chest first.

“When you said I’d destroyed my son by placing you in The Games, I had no idea you meant it literally. That all along you intended to hurt him in such a way that he would never, could never, recover.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” I whisper, clearing my throat and wincing as pain shoots through my stomach and up the side of my bruised face.

“What exactly did you intend, Angelina?”

Her eyes are cold as she perches on the edge of the bed and stares at me, and I shiver and draw the sheet up to cover my bare breasts as I meet her gaze.

“What game are you really playing, Angelina? Because I know you lied to my son about the baby. I know he’s Falcon’s child.”

I swallow hard and look down at my baby, but I can’t even nod to agree with her assertion that the baby is Falcon’s. Viper’s grip on my mind is complete.

‘But thank God he can’t see me or talk to me yet.

I know he’ll want to know where I was when I was on the run.

I know he’ll put the next phase of his plan into motion, whatever that is.

I need to keep hidden from him for as long as I can, and I need to keep my baby from him.

I need to figure out how to tip Eleanor off to what is truly happening before Falcon does whatever he’s going to do to me, or Viper manages to see me and give me more diabolical instructions. ’

I look back up, meeting Eleanor’s eyes where she sits patiently awaiting my answer.

“You slapped me.”

“I saved your life.”

“Saved me? How?”

She rises and stares down at me, her eyes deadly.

“Many people have tried to destroy my boy, my world,” she says quietly, “and for centuries they’ve failed, his own father included.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would be the one to sow the seed of his destruction when I chose you as his future wife and engineered your inclusion in The Games. ”

I stare at her, paling as I watch her sink her nails into the palm of her hand as she goes on, her eyes never leaving mine.

“That’s something I’ll have to live with, and I just hope that one day he’ll forgive me.

But whatever plot you’ve concocted, whomever you’re aligned with, however much you’ve planned to hurt him, Angelina, I knew that if he killed you, then as surely as the moon rises he would truly be destroyed, because he loves you. ”

Her words strike me harder than any blow she could have struck, and I cry out and shake my head.

“Eleanor…”

Small rivulets of blood run from her palm and down her wrist, but she doesn’t seem to notice this, or my interruption.

“Love of a vampire for a human is rare,” she goes on, “and eternal. Since he’s admitted it to himself, uttered it out loud, he will always love you.

Even though your actions may have just cemented his belief that love between humans and vampires is impossible and unnatural, his heart will always ache for you — as Jaguar’s aches for his Coquette.

And knowing my son, he’ll never allow another human woman to get close to him.

There’s nothing I can do to assuage that pain other than to be there for him and repent my own part in his heartbreak. ”

Tears begin to slip down my cheeks as she goes on, but her features are marble.

“I slapped you before he could give in to his hurt and betrayal, or act on his rage and lash out. Before he had a chance to do something he’d live to regret. I slapped you not to save your life, Angelina, but to save his.”

I gulp as her words sink in, and silently acknowledge her rationale. Yes, she’d saved my life, and the life of my baby.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” she unclasps her hands, looking down, surprised, at the half-moon cuts her nails had inflicted, “You’ve made it clear you don’t care for your husband and that your whole personality is a lie.

If you’re thanking me for saving you, you needn’t.

Your life is incidental. You only have one job to do now, and I’m going to make sure you fulfil that duty.

To that end you can consider yourself a prisoner.

No one will come in here, and no one will leave this room without me knowing about it.

I was foolish to trust you and I won’t make that mistake again.

I won’t let you do anything at all to jeopardise my grandson. ”

She nods to the baby, and I shake my head sadly. She doesn’t need to worry on that score.

“I’d burn down the world for my son, Eleanor.”

“Then you know how I feel,” she whispers.

‘God. I’m so sorry. I wish there was a way, ANY way that I could tell her the truth. That I do love her son, that I never meant for any of this to happen. But how? I can’t tell her I’m a prisoner inside my own mind just as much as inside these castle walls. And where exactly am I anyhow?’

“Where am I?” I voice my question.

“When you collapsed Falcon carried you here, to his suites,” she says as she turns from me.

“His suites?” I echo as I consider the huge room, far superior to anything I’ve seen before in the castle.

Everything is modern and light, decorated in teal and dark brown, apart from the Persian carpet, with its intricate pattern woven in deep reds and cream.

There’s a big lounge area with a huge open fireplace wide enough to cook a whole cow, I imagine, a dressing area with plush white leather ottomans and ornate furniture, and a big bathroom, open to the rest of the huge suite and tiled in white marble.

All the fittings are gold. The whole room is bathed in light from the wall-length tinted windows overlooking the beautifully manicured gardens and the lake beyond, complete with white swans.

“His bedroom adjoins yours,” she points to a big, richly carved black door across the other side of the sumptuously decorated room, “but you needn’t worry about that right now.”

“Not worry?” I whisper.

‘Of course I’m going to worry. I’m going to worry like hell that he’s going to open that door and rip my fucking heart out or twist my head off like a bottle top.’

“He’s gone,” she says brusquely, seeing my incredulous expression.

“Gone where?”

“Away.”

“For how long?”

“You need to breastfeed for three years, Angelina,” she says matter-of-factly as she heads to the door. “I only hope you’re truthful when you say you love your baby, and that you’re strong enough to at least manage to sustain him.”

I frown at her statement, but put it aside to question her later. Right now there’s something more pressing I need to know.

“Eleanor, how long will Falcon be away?”

She doesn’t bother answering, and doesn’t look back.

Long after she’s gone I consider her words and the subtext behind them.

“Three years?” I whisper.