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Talon and his soldiers bundling me and Rio into an SUV and bringing us to a Kral hotel.
Talon with his hand on my abdomen, claiming the baby. Claiming me.
And my traitorous body softening, leaning into his. Craving him even when my heart knew he was bad for me…
Then as soon as I fell asleep, he’d fucked another woman.
Pain ripped through me, a tearing ache almost too big for my chest to contain. I moaned and rocked back and forth on the mattress, hugging myself.
Stupid, stupid girl.
Why hadn’t I kept moving every few weeks? Made it harder for him to find me?
But I’d been so tired of running, and the job at BVE had been perfect for me. The owner had taken me under her wing, teaching me the vintage clothing business from the ground up.
And there was the baby to consider. I couldn’t keep moving from place to place. I required medical care and a safe place to bring my child back to after they were born.
I needed a home. We needed a home.
Then one morning, Rio had sauntered into BVE to sell some of his clothes, and I’d read his desperation on his face, his eyes hostile with knowledge no teenager should have. He’d dragged the clothes from a tattered backpack and piled them on the counter. “How much?” he’d asked.
Our eyes had met and I’d known those clothes were the last thing he had to sell. Unfortunately, they weren’t vintage, just ordinary, off-the-rack T-shirts and a pair of jeans. They’d bring him a few dollars at most.
I’d pushed the small pile back across the counter and invited him to have lunch instead—and we’d clicked. That was the only way to describe it. Two desperate, lonely people. Neither of us trusted easily, but something made me take a chance, ask if he wanted to share my apartment.
Rio said no, of course. The idiot was too proud to take charity. That’s when I’d made that deal with him, a deal that benefitted us both, although I told him he’d be doing me a favor.
So I’d stayed in Brooklyn for Rio, too. Because he needed me, even though he believed it was the other way around.
A rapid fluttering, butterfly-light against the inside of my abdomen made me still. A fierce love welled up in me, pressing hotly against my throat.
I covered my uterus with my palm.
This was what was important. Not me. The baby.
I’d die to keep this tiny being safe.
“You’ll be okay,” I said aloud. “I swear you will. It’s me they’re mad at. Me who fucked up.”
Another flutter, this one harder, like the kid was saying, Yeah, yeah. Now get moving and feed me already.
My mouth twitched in spite of myself. The kid was definitely half-vampire—already demanding as fuck. Although I wasn’t exactly bashful and retiring myself.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said and climbed out of bed.
Twenty minutes later I was showered and dressed. I left the bedroom, hunting for breakfast. The door on the opposite side of the living room (which I assumed was Talon’s bedroom) was shut, but a cart next to the wet bar held a trio of covered plates with enough food for two or three pregnant women—scrambled eggs, hash browns, buttered toast, pastries, a bowl of fat red strawberries, a small bottle of cream, coffee, orange juice.
I ignored the coffee and poured myself a glass of juice. Normally, I was a coffee drinker, but these days, I could barely stand to smell it. The orange juice was as good as it looked, tart but sweet and refreshing. I carried the glass with me to the closed bedroom door and gave the handle an experimental wiggle.
The door was locked. Of course, it was.
Talon wouldn’t trust me to walk in on him when he was deep in the day sleep, even if I was still an ordinary thrall, not a prisoner. That was standard Maritime Syndicate procedure.
Today, though, it bothered me—a symbol that Talon had all the power. He could’ve locked me into my own bedroom and no one would’ve stopped him. I suppose I should be grateful that I had the freedom of the suite, but I wasn’t.
I felt angry. Trapped.
I was three years younger than my sister Freya, but I’d always been the together sister, the one with the plan: Finish high school and apply to be a syndicate thrall. Put in my time, then take the money and travel. Somewhere along the way, I’d started dreaming of opening my own vintage clothing store. Then I’d expand into styling outfits for actors and artists or even rich vampires.
