Hupotasso (Vampire Bachelor Games #2)

9

9

The knock on my door is timid, and I dry my eyes and brush the hair from my flushed face as I sit up, prepared for whatever, or whomever.

I’ve been crying since the moment I’d woken up and recalled the look he’d given me as he rose from my bed and left last night without a word.

Cold.

His eyes had been cold.

I’d called his name, his expression making my voice tremble as much as my knees were still from our lovemaking.

“Falcon? What are you doing? Where are you going? We need to talk.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he’d answered brusquely, his eyes hooded as he turned to make for the door.

“Necessary?”

I’d heard my voice as if it was coming from someone else, from a long way away.

“Falcon?”

I’d sat up, tried to move to stop him from leaving, but the gown, the fucking gown had tripped me up, and I’d fallen off the bed and onto the floor like a discarded toy.

“You’ve done your duty satisfactorily, in this matter at least,” he’d snarled as he reached the door and turned to look at me with disgust.

‘My duty?’

I remembered then what he’d said at the altar. That I’d produce an heir before he dispensed with me.

‘Oh God.’

“Falcon!” I’d shouted as he left, shutting the door firmly behind him. “You can’t mean that. FALCON!”

For a long time after he’d left I remained on the floor crying, the hurt from his words and the remembrance of his cold gaze making me cower as no strike ever could. But when I’d risen from the floor, a rage had settled on my heart. A fury I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.

Now, I frown as his mother steps into my room, her eyes darting almost fearfully as she takes in the torn gown on the floor, the sparse furnishings and the dead fire.

She’s wearing a cream woollen suit, and pearls. She looks like the quintessential perfectly groomed royal, except she’s clearly very uncomfortable being here. The juxtaposition of her perfect coiffure, clothes and makeup, and me wrapped in a sheet, hair wild, eyes swollen and face red from crying, still smelling of sex and him , couldn’t be more obvious.

“It’s freezing in here,” she gasps, hastening towards me and picking up my hands where they lie folded in my lap. “Why didn’t you call the maid to light the fire?”

She studies my face as I stare impassively at her.

“Are you unwell, Angelina?”

I clear my throat and shake my head as she sits beside me and rubs my hands. Her own are toasty warm, as are her eyes. Her concern brings a lump to my throat again, and I pull my hands from hers and cover my face. The shame and hurt from last night still raw.

“My dear, what is it?”

I shake my head. I couldn’t talk now even if I wanted to. I have no idea where to even start. Everything is shit. Everything.

“There, there,” she places her arm around my shoulders. “Let it out. I dare say this whole whirlwind has been quite shocking for you, but you’ll soon come to grips with it.”

Sniffing, I pull away from her.

‘Whirlwind? Either she’s completely unaware of what’s going on because Falcon hasn’t filled her in on his belief that I’m a spy, or she wants to pretend everything is normal.’

But pretence is not something I’ve ever had a tolerance for.

And it sure as hell isn’t going to fly after yesterday.

“I’m Falcon’s prisoner,” I snap, rising and roughly wiping my eyes on my arm. “Or did the fact you had to unlock my door from the outside escape your attention?”

She shakes her head sadly as I go on, all my anger at Falcon now directed at the woman before me — the woman who raised him.

“I’m sure there’s just been some kind of misunderstanding…” she starts.

“He’s a fucking monster,” I snarl, turning to walk towards the small window to stare out so I don’t have to look at her. “He doesn’t care for me. The whole game was obviously an onerous charade that he pushed through so he didn’t lose his title.”

“That may have been the case at first,” she sighs. “But he does care for you, Angelina. He just hasn’t recognised his feelings yet. You must understand…”

“No! You must understand!” I shout, spinning to point my finger at her. “He told me at the wedding that he plans to get me pregnant, then kill me. He doesn’t care one iota for me, and if he did he certainly wouldn’t lock me in this hellhole, fuck me, and leave me crying on the floor.”

Her gasp and shocked expression stall me momentarily.

“Why so surprised? You must have seen far worse over the years. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. He’s his father’s son through and through.”

“This isn’t Falcon,” she murmurs, her eyes sad. “This isn’t my boy.”

“He’s not a boy,” I snap. “He’s a fucking grown-ass vampire .”

“Yes,” she sighs, rising. “He’s a vampire. And I can see you’d prefer to be alone at the moment. But I want you to know that I want to be your friend, Angelina, that I’m here for you…”

“Really?” I cut her off. “So you’ll help me escape?”

Her lips become a thin line.

“I thought not,” I snarl. “Get out.”

“Very well,” she nods. “But I came to welcome you to the family because I knew I wouldn’t get another opportunity before your trip. That’s all.”

“My trip?”

“Why yes,” she frowns, “you’re leaving the day after tomorrow for the tour of the contestants’ relatives. You’ll take a month or more to travel around the world, as is the tradition. Tomorrow will be taken up all day with fittings and preparations. I wanted to squeeze in a visit before then, although we’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another upon your return. I’m so looking forward to it.”

‘A month? I won’t see him for a whole month? Why does this pain me when he’s just treated me so terribly? I must be brain damaged. What am I thinking? Of course I’m brain damaged — what other kind of person would have even entered The Games to begin with?’

“Angelina?”

I scowl and refocus on the woman before me.

I’ve watched VBG long enough to know a post-wedding tour is customary. Usually though, it’s a few weeks down the track, after the honeymoon.

‘But no honeymoon for me. Straight into royal duties. Bastard!’

“You know,” she smiles gently. “You might find things are not so overwhelming upon your return. Maybe a little space is all you and Falcon need.”

I grit my teeth at her words. I know what’s in store for me. Traditionally the winning royal wife visits the losers’ families to talk to them about The Games and give money and gifts. It’s all televised, of course, and aimed at making the royals look benevolent and kind, and at promoting VBG for the following season.

‘Visiting Giselle’s family, Isabel’s family, Pasha’s, Neve’s… and having to deal with Gary Fucking Showman and the whole circus all over again….’

I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less — except maybe fall under Falcon’s sex spell again and act like a dog in heat for a blood-sucking creature that plans to put a bun in my oven and kill me.

I want to scream at this woman that yes, I want ‘space’ I want to fly to outer space where I never have to look at her face, or her son’s, or any other royal ever again.

But instead, I turn my back to her and face the window again without a word.

The door closes a few seconds later. But I don’t hear the key turn in the lock.