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Ana enters the room, halting when she sees Camilla. It takes her a moment to recover. “There you are,” she says cheerily, again acting as if we are friends, except that this time I’m glad to see her.
Camilla spares her the briefest of glances as if Ana isn’t quite worth the trouble, before returning her attention to me.
“You should ask him about the Commander. I’m sure he’ll want to tell you all about him. My father was a sort of mentor to Santos for a good five years. The defining years, he used to say. He was only eighteen when he came to live with us, you know.” She says it almost wistfully.
“I’ll be sure to do that. Excuse me,” I say, wanting to get away from her. I manage to take a step, but just as I do, another door opens near the empty attendant’s table. A man enters. My heart races and adrenaline rushes through me, the warning to flee blaring like a siren in my head. But I remain still, rooted to the spot because I’m not sure I’ll be able to get past these two.
“Sister,” the man says. She smiles at him but keeps her eyes locked on me, just like she had earlier. His looks match hers except they’re masculine. Harder. The false veneer of soft sweetness is too thin to hide the cruelty beneath.
Ana giggles nervously. She always used to do that. “We’d better get back. I don’t think Caius likes me gone too long.” I don’t look at her. No one does.
“I wondered where you’d gone off to,” he says, coming to stand beside Camilla. He smiles down at her. “Mother would have had me sending a search party soon.”
Camilla slips her hand into his and they turn matching eyes to me. The force of it, of them, has me taking an unconscious step back right into a stool I didn’t know was there. I gasp, falling backward, until the man lunges forward to catch me.
“Careful, Madelena,” he says, voice low, his hands big and hard on my arms as he steadies me. How does he know my name? How did she?
“Let me go,” I say, trying to wriggle free. He only squeezes harder, and the way he tilts his head just a little and grins is almost inhuman.
“Santos didn’t tell her about us, brother,” Camilla says, stepping closer. The two of them have me trapped, and I’m not sure it’s their physical proximity or just their presence that makes it feel like they’re standing too close. “You’d think he would have, considering. I’m a little hurt, to be honest.”
“Don’t be hurt. You know Santos isn’t very open about that part of his life. Understandably.” The man looks me over, his gaze searching my face, my mouth, hovering over the exposed swell of my breasts above the necklines of the dress. “I’m Liam, by the way.”
“Madelena, but you knew that.”
“I did. We all do. Madelena De Léon. Augustine now.” He looks me over again, that smile vanishing. “Promised to Santos at the tender age of fifteen.”
I gasp, surprised when he takes my hand and turns it over. It’s the one with the scar. He traces it. I shudder, unable to pull free as he meets my eyes.
“Blood oath,” he says, sending an icy chill down my spine. How does he know this? “Brutality comes naturally to the Augustines, doesn’t it?”
My mouth goes dry, or maybe it was already dry and I’m just noticing as I stare up into his eyes. They may be that pretty blue, but there’s nothing pretty in the way he’s looking at me. It’s not quite hate I see in them, though, and although I’m struggling to put words to the emotion, the animosity they convey is unmistakable.
He leans close to me, and I swear he inhales like he’s taking in my scent. It’s the most unsettling thing. “You take good care with that husband of yours, little Madelena De Léon,” he whispers. “He’s been known to crush bigger creatures than you.”
“Get your fucking hands off my wife!”
I startle at the roar of the command, my breath a tremble, and a wash of relief flooding my system. Ana actually yelps and jumps backward as Santos’s big hand closes over Liam’s shoulder. Caius is behind his brother, with Val behind him, and soldiers stand at the entrance of both doors. Two are ours.
Ours. When did they become ours, not his?
But those questions don’t matter now. Not when those soldiers reach into their jackets to draw their weapons.
