by Winter Fox
Charles shrugged. “You married his father. What else could he do?”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind whirled, and I started to worry that I would be too distracted by what he was saying to use my knife when the time came.
“Anyway. If you don’t conceive a child tonight; I will call my son home, and I will slit his throat before your very eyes. Understood?”
If I’d ever had any doubts about killing this man. They all vanished in that moment—making me more determined than ever.
“Take off your clothes,” he instructed.
I wasn’t close enough to him to get a good shot at his throat. I took two halting steps forward, and was rewarded with the barrel of a gun pointed in my face. There was an audible click, as Charles released the safety.
“First, you’re going to give me the knife that you have stashed underneath your gown.”
Slowly, I reached underneath the sash of my dress. My fingers grasped the handle of the knife which I had picked up from the cake table and hidden within my gown. I carefully took hold of the blade, and handed it to Charles; hilt first.
He took the knife from me, and placed it on a table at the other side of the room—he laid the gun alongside it. Then he crossed the floor in a blur of speed. His open hand connected with my face; with such force that I tumbled to the floor. I tasted blood, and lifted a finger to test my split lip.
“Once more, bitch. Once more, and I’ll fuck your ass with that blade,” he howled, as he dragged me up, and onto the bed.
He was on top of me then, pushing up the folds of my wedding gown, and tearing down my ivory underwear. He freed himself from his tuxedo trousers, and wasted no time in forcing himself inside me.
He paused, and leaned his face down, so that he could whisper into my ear. “Now give me a child, before—”
He didn’t finish what he was going to say, because the knife buried in his throat made it impossible to talk. I pushed upward against the handle, with every ounce of strength that I had, and blood bubbled from his open mouth. Some of it dripped onto my face, but I didn’t turn away—I wasn’t disgusted. I was glad.
He gurgled, as his dying body tried to do what came naturally, and take a breath. The blood filled his lungs then, flooding them beyond repair. He looked shocked, and he looked scared.
“For my father, you bastard,” I whispered; before I rolled his body off me. Staying on my back, I tried to get my breathing under control.
I sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might care, that I’d had the sense to take the second knife from the cake stand.
I sat up quickly. I had to leave. I was on the run now, and if they caught me; I was dead.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Adonis
He’d chosen London, and he couldn’t explain why. He could have gone to the Maldives, South Africa, the Caribbean—but instead; he’d come to pissing-it-down, miserable, dreary fucking London.
As he watched the torrential rain falling, through the panoramic windows of his penthouse apartment; Adonis wondered if he’d unconsciously matched the city to his mood. He felt dark, and angry. He felt as gray as the sky, which was heavy with cloud, and full of the promise of never-ending rain.
He felt gray, because all of the color had melted from his life. Now that she was gone, he was even more keenly reminded of the way that she’d made him feel. He felt as though he didn’t exist anymore. He was nothing, because there was no reason to be.
The reason for his very existence had been extinguished on the day that he’d walked out of his father’s house, and left the woman he loved in Charles Olympus’s possession.
Over the last four days that he’d been here in London, he’d thought about going back. A thousand times. But he knew his father, and if Charles even sensed that his son had backed out of their deal; he’d kill Cara. Especially now that he had hold of Emma.
And anyway, what was he going to say to her? Sorry I kidnapped you, raped you, branded you, and gave you to my father.
He shook his head angrily; before walking over to an expensive bottle of whiskey, which stood on an antique, walnut side-table.
What was it with Brits and their obsession with shitty old furniture?
He filled his glass, and was just about to go for a shower when his cell rang. He picked it up, and looked at the screen. It was Henry. One of his father’s most loyal bodyguards.
He answered. “Henry?”
“Sir. I’m glad I managed to get a hold of you. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.” Henry sounded calm. But Henry would have been calm in a nuclear war.
“What is it?” Adonis returned to the window, and sipped his whiskey as he watched the rain trickling down the glass. He had a unexplainable suspicion that his life was about to turn upside-down.
“The whore, she killed your father on their wedding night.”
He froze. “She’s not a whore. And why the fuck am I only hearing this four days later, Henry?”
The other man was silent for a moment. “Because Erebus instructed us to keep the news from you until we had captured the…”
“Cara,” Adonis snapped. “Her name is Cara. Where the fuck is she?”
“We finally caught her today, sir. Erebus has her, at your father’s house.” Henry sounded wary now.
“Henry. Why is Erebus at my father’s house?” Adonis growled.
“He’s claiming leadership of the incubi. He says your father disinherited you.”
It was going to be a short fucking reign. Erebus was as good as dead.
“What about Cara. Is she hurt?” Adonis didn’t want to hear the answer.
“A little. Not too badly. She’s tough. She managed to evade us for longer than anyone would have expected.”
“The chip?” Adonis queried.
Henry laughed softly down the phone. “She got to a hospital, and had it taken out within three hours of escaping.”
Clever girl.
“What’s happening there now?” Adonis asked
“I think Erebus plans to execute her within the week,” Henry confessed.
Adonis howled in rage. He gripped the glass of whiskey so tightly it burst between his fingers. The glass sliced through his flesh, and his blood mixed with the amber liquid—dripping onto the expensive carpet. The soft fabric bloomed with warm, red roses.
“Henry. If anything else happens to that woman before I get back, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand me?”
It wasn’t fair to threaten him like that. The man couldn’t stand alone against Adonis’ psychotic cousin. But he needed someone on Cara’s side until he could get home and protect her.
“Yes, sir. How long will you be, sir?” Henry asked.
“Even if I have to hotwire a fucking jet, I’ll be home by the morning,” He dropped the phone to the floor, leaving the room at a dead run. Nothing mattered now. Except her.
* * *
Adonis arrived at the door to his father’s mansion precisely twelve hours after his conversation with Henry. Without hesitation, he kicked the large double, front doors open, and was met by the sight of one of Erebus’s men running toward him. The man was pointing a gun at Adonis’ broad chest. Without hesitation, Adonis swiftly pulled his own gun, and shot the man between the eyes.
“Where is she?” He roared at a second man, who had dashed into the hallway at the sound of the gunfire.
“The office, sir,” the man whimpered.
He took the stairs two at a time, and made his way to his father’s office. The door almost broke off its hinges, as he smashed it open. She was chained to the desk, on her knees, with her head bowed toward the ground. At the sound of the door crashing open, she lifted dull eyes up to look at him.
He almost took his gun, and put a bullet through his own head—right there, and right then.
All of this was his fault. Her perfect skin was a mess, it was covered in heavy, black bruises. Her lip was split, and both eyes were so blackened she had to sq
uint to see him. She was naked, and her entire body was striped with the marks of Erebus’s brutality.
“Adonis,” she whispered, as he dropped to his knees before her. He deftly unfastened her cuffs, and shrugged quickly out of his jacket; before he tenderly covered her trembling body.
“Shh, no one’s going to hurt you now,” he soothed.
“I wondered how long it would be, before you showed up.” Cara tensed in fear at the sound of Erebus’s voice.
Without turning away from the beautiful, broken creature in front of him, Adonis replied. “What have you done, Erebus?”
He heard soft footfalls behind him, as Erebus walked further into the room. “I’ve taken what’s mine. Your father left the bitch for me in his will. And, well, let’s be honest, you were always a disappointment to him. So, he left me the Olympus empire as well.”
Still keeping his back to his cousin, Adonis shifted slightly; giving himself better access to his weapon. “She’s not yours.”
Erebus snorted. “She’s certainly not fucking yours, cousin.”
Adonis met Cara’s eyes as he spoke. “You’re right, she isn’t. She never belonged to any of us. She belongs to herself.”
Her eyes widened imperceptibly at his words.
He heard the click of his cousin removing the safety on his gun. “Your father warned you what would happen if you came back for her. I’m here to carry out his last wish. And so the bitch will die.”
Adonis stood up quickly, and without warning. In one swift movement he had turned, and put a bullet through his cousin’s head. As the body crashed to the ground, a grey-haired man—who Adonis recognized as a member of his father’s council— ran into the office, and shouted in alarm.
“Help. You can’t do that. He was Charles Olympus’s named heir.”
Adonis took a step toward the man. “And now he’s dead. I guess I’m back to being first in line. You need to speak to your leader with the respect he’s due, old man.”
There were footsteps outside, and Adonis was relieved to see Henry standing in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, sir. I did the best I could,” he spoke quickly.
Adonis dismissed him with a single wave of his hand. “I know you did, Henry. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”
He turned back to look at Cara. Adonis was amazed to see that she was standing up. Her back was ramrod straight, and her jaw jutted out defiantly—she looked like a warrior queen.
Fuck. He loved her, so much.
“Who did this to her?” He snarled at the men who gathered in the doorway.
He received a chorus of different responses, and he shook his head in frustration. Ultimately it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he finally had the power to set her free.
“All of you, out,” he growled.
When they were alone, he turned to look at her. She was staring down at Erebus’s corpse, but he suspected that she wasn’t really seeing it. She seemed to have a lot more strength now, he thought. Now that the men who had hurt her were dead.
Well, not all of them. Not yet.
She suddenly turned her beautiful green eyes to him, and his heart hurt to see the puffiness, and the blackness which marred her skin.
He didn’t even know where to begin. “Cara. Even if I lived for a thousand years, I could never begin to tell you just how sorry I am.”
“For which part?” She asked softly.
He was confused. “What do you mean?”
She frowned, and then winced. The movement obviously hurt her broken face. “Which part are you sorry for, Adonis? Kidnapping me? Raping me? Branding me? Giving me to your fucked-up cousin? Torturing me? Ruining my life? Breaking my heart? Which part?”
He was silent as she reeled off his list of crimes. How could he even begin to show her how fucking sorry he was?
“Which part are you sorry for, monster? Tell me?” Her voice came out sounding rough, and gravelly.
Instead of answering her, he went to the door, and found Henry waiting outside. When Adonis asked the man if he could find what he needed, Henry nodded; before jogging away down the hall.
They waited in tense silence, until there was a quiet tap at the door. Adonis opened it and took the item which Henry placed in his hands. It was the knife which had been retrieved from Charles’s body, after his death.
He stepped into the hallway, and addressed the waiting men. “I am your leader now. Whether Charles wanted it or not, here we are. You will follow my command, just as you once followed my father. And I have a very explicit command for you all, right now.”
The men stared at him in silence. Then suddenly, Henry nodded; giving Adonis enough confidence to trust that they would do the right thing.
“When she leaves this room, you will not try to stop her. No matter what. You will not hinder her in any way. If anything, you will help her. Do you understand me?”
“She killed your father. Or have you forgotten?” One man murmured.
“And I don’t blame her.” Adonis turned away from the men, and stepped back into the room. Cara watched him warily as he approached her.
He was still sporting the white shirt he’d been wearing after his last dinner in London—there had been no time to change. He reached up now, and tore it open. Popping the buttons, and exposing his chest to her.
She frowned at him. Confused. Afraid.
Adonis stood in front of her, before dropping to his knees at her feet. Bowing his head, he held the knife reverently up to her. When she hesitated, he reached forward and grasped her fingers. He pressed the handle of the knife into the girl’s grasp; then lifted both her hand and the blade until the point of the knife was pressed into his skin, just above his heart.
“This is karma, Cara. This is you and me in the exact place where we are meant to be. You were never supposed to kneel at my feet; you are so much more than that. I know it now.”
He lifted his head, and her eyes settled on his. He was disconcerted to see the cold, hard gaze of a killer.
What have I done to you?
“I kneel before you, and I offer you my life. Take it, and end your pain. Forget my family. No one will stop you from leaving. I don’t belong in this world, Cara. It doesn’t deserve to have evil like me in it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for everything that me and my family did to you. I could never find a way to make amends for that. But I want you to be free, finally free of us all.”
She was silent, and unmoving, but she kept her hand wrapped tightly around the knife. He dropped his own hand now; giving her the freedom to choose when he should die.
“I’m ready to die, Cara Westenra. Because all of this time, I thought that I was seducing you. And in the end, it was you who seduced me. I think I loved you from the moment I saw you in that bar. I just wasn’t the kind of man who would admit that he felt things like love. But knowing that I have to exist without you; without ever feeling the way that you make me feel, again. That’s not something I want to live with.”
She shifted slightly, and Adonis studied her eyes. He couldn’t read her anymore, he realized miserably.
“So, you’re asking me to kill you, because you don’t want to live without me?” She whispered.
“Yes,” he answered with an honesty he’d never felt before.
“Because you don’t want to hurt, anymore?” She asked, as she pressed the point of the blade against his skin. The tip pierced the surface, and a single bead of blood welled up on his chest.
“Yes,” he replied.
She stared at him for what felt like an eternity; her eyes burned into his, and he felt the overwhelming urge to push himself forward onto the blade. Just so that he could wrap his arms around this incredibly strong, incredibly beautiful, amazing goddess; one final time.
She leaned down then, until her mouth was pressed against his ear. The knife pressed a fraction deeper, and he closed his eyes. Waiting for the moment that she would free him.
“Then live,” she
whispered.
What?
“Live, and know that pain for every day of the rest of your long life, Adonis Olympus.”
Then she dropped the knife to the floor, and crossed the room. He stayed where he was. On his knees. His heart hurt at the loss of her.
No, no, no. Not without her. I can’t live without her.
She opened the door, and he heard the men in the hall start to talk about treason and murder. Still kneeling, with his head bowed, he couldn’t see her, but he felt her absence keenly. She had left the room.
“If anyone harms a single hair on her head, then he will answer to me,” he roared.
Then Henry was at his side. “Are you hurt, sir?”
Adonis mouth twitched. “I am, but not in any way that can ever be fixed. Go with her, Henry. Get her into the car with Eric, and tell him to take her wherever she wants to go.”
“Yes, sir.” Henry nodded, and quickly left.
He knelt, and basked in the rightness of the moment. Everything was as it should be, and Adonis was left alone with his black and broken heart.
Epilogue
Cara
Eight Months later…
I was working a day shift at the bar, and I was feeling good. Today was one of my better days. It had taken a while for my injuries to heal properly, but Erin had been amazing—giving me kitchen duties until I was healed enough to show my face in public again.
The mental scars were taking a little longer.
Erin still pushed me to go to the police every single day—she didn’t know everything, how could I tell anyone the truth—and I refused every single day. I wanted to forget. Oh, how I wanted to forget. Not just the abuse, and the pain, and the fear. But I mostly wanted to forget about him.
It was impossible. I’d come to that conclusion months ago. Every night, I lay alone in my bed and I craved him. I would wake myself up, crying out in my sleep; but not because of nightmares. Because of his face—a face that I would never see again.
Life without Adonis was always going to be painful. I had come to accept this. I was changed by him, forever.
