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“Prepare her for her wedding night. Now.” Cold eyes turn to me. “Just picture your dead lover and it will all be over soon enough.” His grin turns diabolical as he rises to his full height and crosses the room in an arrogant slow gate. Like he believes the crown he wears works as a shield against his deeds. My pulse picks up and the spike of panic rising inside me shoots shards of pain through my head.
Outside each exit is an armed guard. Two by the patio in case I try something stupid.
From across the room, the bedroom door swings open.
“Sean. I take it, we are ready?”
My new husband stalks across the room, behind him is a small army of men. Clean-shaven, tall. Handsome to anyone who’s never met the man. To me, he’s the picture of evil in a three-piece suit. Black hair is combed back nicely and that jawline of his would be nice to look at if I didn’t know his kill record and where if not most at least some of the bodies are buried.
Ash of the future I once thought possible rains down over me. And every step he takes closer to me, the more of the white remnants get crushed to nothing.
Sean comes to an abrupt stop in front of me and takes my chin in hand. Anger and possessive pride swirl in his deep brown eyes. It glitters like a lion’s before he sinks his teeth into a jugular.
“Druid,” I say, not hiding my disgust. I jerk my chin from his grasp and take a step back. Or at least try to, but the bed at my back prevents me from moving.
I’m trapped. A sense of rage races through me but there’s no outlet for the fear or the outburst welling inside me. No one is coming for me. My agony lives on in silence.
He clutches the sides of my face between long, punishing fingers and tightens until I taste the cooper of my blood on my tongue.
I refuse to give him what he wants and cry out for him to stop the pain. There’s not a damn thing in this world that will make me shed a tear in front of this man. No one he knows of at least.
Holding his gaze with mine I glare right back, the violent fury inside me faintly veiled. Maybe I can get my hands on a knife while he sleeps. Drive it into his heart.
“I told you not to call me that, bitch.” He shoves me back and my ass bounces on the edge of the bed. When he turns from me to address my father I rub at the sides of my jaw and push to my feet.
My father’s unforgiving eyes flicker over me. “You have my permission to do what is necessary to get what we want. We both know you don’t need to be gentle.”
My mouth hinges wide. What? Did he just give this brute permission to rape me?
Sean tilts his head like he’s a British aristocrat and the king just gave him the most precious of consents.
“What the fuck?”
Both ignore my outburst.
“Thank you. But I won’t be needing your consent for anything any longer.” Sean signals for his small army of men and they flood the room. Two brush by me and move behind my father. They grip his arms and shove him into the nearby chair.
The snub-nosed is pocketed by yet another and papers are shoved in his face.
It’s hard to picture such well-dressed men being so lethal and cutthroat, but welcome to my world. Where the killers in my world appear no different than the socially elite in yours.
Finely tailored tuxedos, polished Oxfords, no one with a strand of hair out of place. They are all decked out like this is the end of the world and well, frankly they’re not wrong. Except it’s not ending. I have front row seats to a new world order coming about.
And Sean is on his way to taking the throne.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?”
Left over fear for the daddy I once loved moves me to my father’s side.
“Now that I own your daughter, all I need is you to die and the entire empire you built off my power will finally be where it belongs. Under my control. And this new will makes sure of that.”
I look down as one of the men, takes my father’s hand, and shoves a pen in his hand. Like water on sunbaked cement, the misplaced fear for the evil man who fathered me evaporates. Is it wrong I take a little satisfaction when that same snub-nosed revolver is placed at his temple?
I spin looking for anything within my reach to stop this. The vase. Wrapping both my hands around the fat glass I prepare to heave the heavy thing forward to give him a chance to break free and fight. Whatever happens from there, happens. Why? Because I know my father is the lesser of two evils and if he dies, I’m dead.
A hand stills my motions and the same blue-eyed servant pleads with me to hold still. “Don’t please. He’ll take his anger out on us.”
She’s right. Anyone moves to strike against Sean and he’ll lash out which means bodies in fresh graves. I’ve seen it so many times.
