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Love.
The warm breaths against my pecs registered first. Her loose but secure hold around my waist. The smell of her hair, something I was still getting used to, filled me, bringing back that weird ping. It was enough for my lids to shoot open. I always pulled back here. I had to keep going. I forced them closed again, tuning into her weight in my arms. To how small she was next to me. Arousal hit, but I pushed it away. Her beauty, maybe even a beauty only I saw, flashed in my mind’s eye. I’d chosen her because she was the perfect mother for a child I never considered having. Fantasized about, but a part of me knew the baby would never come to fruition. Here, though, in these thoughts, it had to. I had to feel. To know if I could even stomach the thought of her truly carrying a baby.My baby.Laura, heavy with my child. Happy with something that was of me.
Worthless.
Sick.
Freak.
No. I would not let my mother’s words in. She wasn’t part of this life. Here, she was dead. All that existed in this space was me and Laura. Us and our child. Child. Boy? Girl? Even with my eyes closed, they tried to blink away the idea. I didn’t have a preference where I expected to lean more to a boy, but Laura, she was okay. She was sweet. Caring. And she did carry herself well. She would have made a good wife. At least in this mindset. Had we met outside of here, that might have been another story, but I wouldn’t go there. That Laura, or whoever she was, was dead. This Laura, she was mine. Truly mine.
Wife.
Child.
Son. Yes, we’d already had one of those. I let the old Laura and that child merge with this one. The old Laura faded, transitioning to the woman in my arms. The past was dead. Both mine and the new Laura’s. Perhaps we’d have a daughter this time, sweet like her mother. Quiet and watchful. She’d have my new Laura’s beautiful, wavy hair. And maybe Laura’s eyes as well, but my nose. Laura’s mouth. Maybe more of my height so no man would ever think to stand over her. She’d be the one in control, like me. I’d teach her that. I’d teach her everything I knew so she could rule my companies. I could make her a powerhouse. Sweet, but a shark when she needed to be. A genius, on the front of magazine’s just like her father. But she’d be loved by the public. Beautiful, just like her mother. The world would adore her. I could see it. Feel…it. There was a swelling in my chest. A heaviness of pride as a million different scenarios entered my mind. I wasn’t sure how to take all of it. I was suddenly feeling too much, and that wasn’t normal.
My eyes opened, blinking through the overwhelming sensations pounding through me. My heart was racing, and a sickening in my stomach had me throwing back the blankets. Was that excitement? Want? No. No way. I needed water. I needed…
I flipped on the light, narrowing my eyes at the slave sleeping in my bed. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. I could stop feeling this now. It had been a mistake to think of something that would never happen. A stupid idea. If I could numb it out or somehow push it away.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Sweat coated my skin, and faster my pulse pounded. It wasn’t real. It’d never be real. I didn’t want a child. Not really. I’d ruin it. I ruined everything. I’d…kill it. And I could see that all too clearly. Feel the tearing of a dream I’d invested in once. I did this. I brought this on myself. It wasn’t real. Kill. Kill. I’d kill it. I’d kill her for doing this to me!
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Screams filled the room as I jerked Laura from the bed, dragging her into the living room. I barely realized what the hell I was doing as I strapped her down to the first set of cuffs I saw. They were attached to the St. Andrews cross not far from the bedroom door.
“Husband?Husband, wait!”
Eyes heavy with sleep, searched my face with fear. Scared eyes. My daughter’s eyes. God, I could still see every version of her. Baby. Teen. Woman. And the title Laura called me for the first time, it did something deep within. It made this even more real. Her panicked stare feared me. Blamed me? Was disappointed in me? Yes, like my mother.
“Husband, please.”
“I’m not your husband.”
Tools crashed into each other on the cart as I jerked it in my direction. Frantic, I searched the length, grabbing the first thing that caught my attention, which wasn’t something I’d normally use. The paddle’s width was thin, but thickly layered. The handle was wrapped in black leather at one end, and solid wood on the other. It didn’t look threatening, but the weight told me otherwise. This tool could do damage. Real damage if I swung hard enough.
“I’m sorry. If I did something,I’m sorry.”
“Stop talking.”
“What if there’s a baby? What if—”
I yelled over her, trying to block the question from my mind.
“Please, don’t do this.”
“Laura.”
“My name isn’t Laura,” she exploded. “My name is Madeline Renee Lewis. I’m twenty-six years old. My birthday is in a little over two weeks, and I’ll probably die before I reach it. I’m an elementary school music teacher who magically made it into my city’s orchestra after spending my entire life dreaming of it. I love classical music and street tacos. My favorite ice cream is homemade vanilla with fudge because let’s face it, it’s the best of both worlds. All I ever wanted was the classic everyday fairytale. All I ever got was tragedy.”
“Stop it.”
“I love horses, but I’ve never rode one. I love tulips. Roses are beautiful, but have you ever seen tulips in snow? I haven’t, but I want to. I’ve never been out of the country. I’ve dreamed of it, but I never took the leap.”
“I said stop.”
