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Sniffling, I eyed his blaster still trained on me. I gave him the beautiful earrings part of the bracelet and hairpin set Anton had given me. He closed a rapacious hand around them before tossing the veil at me.
“Now put this on.”
Relieved that he hadn’t noticed the long, bejeweled hairpin made of gold in my hair, I swiftly complied. As soon as I was done, he tugged on the leash, drawing me to him. His face was only inches from mine and his breath stank of cheap whiskey. I held my breath, fighting the urge to gag.
“You’re going to follow me quietly, like a good little slave.”
I felt a sting in the side of my neck. Startled, I saw his right hand lower, holding a glinting injector. My own hand flew to my neck. I could feel a tiny bump under my skin.
“What did you do?” I asked, terrified.
“Just gave you an incentive to obey. You make a sound, try to signal anyone for help, I’ll detonate the implant. And I promise you, sweetheart, if this shit goes off, you will beg for death. Now move. There’s someone waiting to get better acquainted with that tight cunt of yours.”
Chapter 21
Anton
My Grace… In all the terrible years growing up on Braxia, I never imagined I could be happy one day. Keeping myself safe from harm had been my focus. After leaving Braxia, I deluded myself into thinking humans might welcome me. It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t belong there either. I had made peace with the knowledge mine would be a lonely life. At least, humans didn’t try to kill me just because I breathed. Plus, my wealth and power ensured my bed would never be cold. I was content with that life. Until Grace…
I didn’t deserve her – not after what I did to her. And yet, I could never let her go. The way she looked at me, touched me, snuggled against me. Grace meant it when she claimed to be falling in love with me. It shone in her eyes, in the way she gave herself to me. I never dared to hope anyone would have such feelings towards me.
From the first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the one. To think it was all almost ruined beyond repair over a teenage prank and my barbaric beliefs. Once again, I owed William. This time for forcing me to come to terms with my inner conflict. Braxia enslaved me my whole life. I almost allowed it to destroy my one chance at happiness. And I was happy, truly happy.
I took a huge gamble releasing Grace from her contract. One I feared I lost when she confronted me about harming her. Had she walked away, it would have destroyed me. However, her display of strength, determination, and self-preservation had been impressive. Grace was coming into her own and showing the spine that had lain dormant. I took that bet because like she had with me, I was falling in love with her. No, I already loved her. If what we had was an illusion, it was better to end it now. She had no idea the extreme changes I was making so that we could have a future together. The Magnar’s interference simply forced me to move faster.
Tonight would be Grace’s consecration. The first time I heard her sing on Jeruna, I knew she could be a star. Romero gave her the polish she needed. Grace hadn’t let me attend her rehearsals, feeling too self-conscious. It was odd considering she always hummed around the house. To my shame, I snuck in anyway and listened backstage. The sound of her sultry voice put me in a trance. It fell over me like a gentle caress with the warmth and sensuality of a lover’s embrace. Tonight, all of Venus Hive would fall at her feet.
My woman…
Dr. Farland strolled up to my private booth, interrupting my thoughts. He was as thin and dry as his personality. Although only in his mid-forties, the doctor already showed quite a bit of gray in his short ginger hair.
“Dr. Farland,” I said.
“Mr. Myers.” He gestured at the room crawling with patrons. “Successfully crowded night, isn’t it? Your consort’s debut show has the whole station buzzing.”
“It does,” I said, puffing my chest with pride. “She will blow them away.”
Farland didn’t usually make small talk. He wanted something and I wanted to muse about my mate. Clearing his throat, he cast a not-so-subtle glance at the couch of my semi-circular booth. I swallowed down my irritation and gestured for him to take a seat.
“I trust Miss Grace’s ankle has fully recovered from Sunday’s sprain?” Farland asked, in an unassuming tone.
My eyes narrowed. He was fishing, but for what?
“I wasn’t aware she sprained her ankle. She’s been walking around with no limp. Clearly, it was either nothing serious or so well-treated she felt it unnecessary to bring it up.”
“Ah yes,” he said with a toothy grin. “It was nothing some healing cream couldn’t handle. Thankfully, she didn’t need to postpone her show over a twisted ankle. Especially now, seeing how little time she has left to perform before her condition forces her to stop.”
I froze.
He’s not fishing. He’s here to tell on her.
“Her condition?” I asked, playing along.
“Well… hmm… You are aware that she’s pregnant, right?” he said, smiling.
“Yes.”
His smile faltered.
