Hupotasso (Vampire Bachelor Games #2)

24

24

I stare at her where she sits opposite me wrapped in her own thoughts as we speed back to the castle, the dull hum of the Lear the only thing interrupting the silence between us.

We’re alone, apart from Caroline’s body, which is laid out in the bedroom at the back of the plane. Explaining to her father and dipshit brother how she was murdered while under my care is not something I’m looking forward to doing.

I’ve already put a call into Jag to ask him to come up with something plausible. He hasn’t responded yet. I’m not even sure if he will, but Wolf said he’ll make a start on fixing the problem in the meantime. I’m not exactly sure what that will entail; Wolf’s more of a ‘come up with something inexplicably strange and laugh when people accept it,’ kind of guy. Jag’s more circumspect. But I’m up to my fangs in problems right now, and Caroline is one more I don’t need.

“Are you going to lock me up again when we get back?” Angelina asks, her voice flat as she continues to stare out the window.

“You’ll attend dinner with the family every night at eight,” I answer, my eyes not leaving her, “at Mother’s insistence. But you’ll continue to live in the West Wing. You and I will only see each other when necessary.”

“For sex,” she whispers.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want you.”

“I don’t want you either.”

‘If only that were true. I can’t wait to bury myself in your soft body once again.’

“I’d prefer to have this whole business over and done with,” I snap, ignoring my intrusive thoughts, “but if I dispense with you before you provide an heir there will be too many questions. And you bled while you were away.”

She flushes and turns to face me.

“How do you even know that?”

“Caroline,” I shrug. “She reported to me daily.”

“You’re both psychos.”

“Moot point,” I shrug, raising an eyebrow at her. “You killed her.”

She shakes her head and looks down at her hands, her fingers knotted in her lap, white where she’s squeezing them. I feel an urge to take her hands in mine, unlace her fingers, but it passes as quickly as it comes.

“Where did you get the liquid silver, Angie?”

“There’s no point asking again,” she whispers. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“Did The Free Men supply it? Did Spider prearrange it? Was it supposed to be given to me?”

“For the love of God,” she sighs, shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t for you – I had no idea you were on your way to Barcelona. It was to put Caroline to sleep long enough for me to run away. I didn’t mean to kill her—I thought it was a sleeping drug, you know, to knock her out to give me time enough to escape. And I don’t know Spider, I’ve told you this a million times.”

“Someone gave you the poison,” I narrow my eyes at her. “And someone put you in that game.”

She looks up quickly, her eyes flashing.

“Yes. Yes, they did.”

I breathe in sharply. It’s as though I’ve been punched in the chest.

‘In all these months she’s never admitted anything. Now she admits she’s the spy?’

“What?”

“I’ve watched the footage,” she sighs, “it never made any sense for me to be selected. I could see from the outset I was deliberately put in front of you, that this fictional love story was being promoted more than any other attachment. It was obvious we were deliberately placed into situations where we were thrust together, yet so many other contestants would have suited you better. It’s clear it was all manufactured from woe to go.”

“Exactly,” I stare at her, my fangs descending.

“But it took me watching from the outside to see that,” she raises her chin, looking me in the eye. “You don’t believe me, but I’ll say it again, I had no idea. And I had real feelings for you, feelings I thought you reciprocated.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” I sneer. “And I made no secret of the fact I would never have feelings for any human woman, let alone you.”

“I just can’t understand why,” she whispers.

“Why you were put in The Games?” I snort. “Please, spare me your lies.”

She shakes her head, her eyes sad.

“I can’t understand why you lost your trust in me.”

“Perhaps we should ask Caroline,” I snarl.