by G. Bailey
“But Anne loved you,” I end up whispering because we do need to discuss this. “And I felt like our connection had to be put away because I loved her…and I couldn’t take you from her.”
“Anne wrote me a letter,” Lucas starts off and I give him a shaky nod, knowing I will never be ready to hear what she said but I need to. “She told me to grab you, kiss you and tell you I love you before it’s too late. Anne told me she would be eternally thankful for our friendship but she knew my heart belonged to you. She told me to live, to find happiness and tell you how I feel. So here I am because damn, Anne was always right.”
“She was,” I chuckle, my voice thick with emotion.
“I love you Regan Hall. I know you’re with Josh, Ethan and Nathan—”
“And Rory,” I mutter with red cheeks but Lucas just laughs.
I really love hearing his deep throaty laugh.
“Damn bodyguard,” he grumbles, flashing me a grin. “But I’m not a jealous man. I want you and I know we can figure out our future together if you want. You know my secrets and I hope one day you will tell me yours, but until then, I want to be at your side. I want you.”
“You can have my secrets, Lucas. You can have me.”
I barely finish thinking the words before I say them.
And then his lips are clashing with mine and gods this kiss feels like it was always meant to happen. Lucas kisses me softer than I ever would have expected and my heart cracks a little bit more with every stroke of his lips against mine. He tugs me down onto the bed, covering my body with his and deepening the kiss. He pulls my shirt off and I push down my skirt as he takes his own top off. My mouth goes dry as I admire his muscular chest, the dip down into his six-pack and the V that disappears into his trousers.
I wet my lips and grin up at him as he unclips his trousers. He pulls his wallet out and takes out a condom—this time I had some in my drawer just in case—and then he rolls it onto his long, hard and delicious looking cock, his eyes pressed on me. I lie back in only my bra and knee-high socks as he crawls back on top of me, kissing me harshly. I part my legs around him as he lines up with me, his tongue battling with mine, and then slams into me, my wet pussy making it easy for him to glide in.
I moan into his mouth as he thrusts and uses his hand to pull down my bra. His lips slide to my breast, teasing my nipple as he continues to thrust into me. My orgasm comes crashing into me unexpectedly and Lucas groans as he thrusts a few more times before he stills. I will never forget the look on his face when he comes, the pure masculine pleasure that takes over. It makes me shiver and fill with a love I’ve never known until recently…until I decided to love instead of kill my guys.
That love explodes into a million stars as I bathe in the aftershocks of my pleasure.
“I love you, Lucas.”
He opens his eyes and stares down at me. His lips upturn in a pure, heartfelt smile before he kisses me and shows me how much he’s wanted me for the rest of the day and night. It’s moments like these when I truly believe that I might, just maybe, get my happy ending.
“We need to talk,” I state in the firmest voice I can muster when Ethan comes back into his room. He doesn’t jump like I hoped and instead he starts laughing as he shuts the door with his foot, dropping his gym bag onto the floor by the door. I should have known the crazy-ass dude would laugh instead of jumping. Any normal person would get a fright. But no, not Ethan.
“Lovely to see you as always, Regan.” He starts pulling off his damp shirt from the heavy rain outside. The droplets pelt the window behind, reminding me of my own mood this evening. My mouth goes a little dry as my eyes betray me and I stare at his muscular form. The rain falling from his damp hair and onto his abs causes my breath to hitch. Gods, he has an amazing body, and the asshole knows that. With a smug grin, he disappears into the walk-in closet.
I rest back on the leather chair, looking around his room. There isn’t much that even says it’s Ethan’s space. Everything from the grey walls to the blue sheets is plain and his personal belongings are scarce. The chest of draws only has one picture on it of an older couple and Ethan when he was about fifteen, if I guessed right. I stand up, seeing another picture frame on his bedside cabinet that I didn’t spot before. I almost gasp as I pick it up and see me and Ethan as kids. We had to be only five, maybe younger, and our faces are covered in chocolate sauce as we share a pot of some cheap version of Nutella. We look so happy, both of us laughing like we didn’t have a care in the world.
Back then we didn’t. Back then we weren’t Regan Hall and Ethan Remington.
The fucked up world didn’t corrupt us until we grew up.
“I wish I could remember that day,” Ethan comments from behind me. I didn’t notice him sneak up, like I should have, but everything about Ethan makes me relax more than I should.
“I wish I had clear memories from before my parents adopted me.” I set the picture back down and face him. “They took those from me too and stained them.”
“What do we need to talk about, cutie?” Ethan changes the subject, sitting on his bed and patting the space next to him.
I cross my arms and walk to the window, pacing up and down.
“My parents want a sacrifice, a victim I need to take to their party, fuck publically, and then kill. I don’t want to do it and I will figure out a way to let my sacrifice go, but for now, I need to take one of you guys to my parents in a show of good faith.”
Ethan’s expression doesn’t even falter. “Take me then.”
I lock my eyes with his, making sure he knows what he’s agreeing too. “My parents are cold-blooded killers and the group, no, cult they belong to think death is a game and blood means pleasure. They might kill you if I can’t figure something out in time.”
“That’s why you hid her, isn’t it?”
I freeze at Ethan’s question. He picks up the picture frame and unhooks the back, then he slides out another photo and shows it to me. Tears fall from my lashes as I stare at the photo of my daughter as the only memory I have of her comes back to me.
“Push now, Regan!”
The midwife’s voice is comforting but I can’t think of anything other than the pain. I hold my breath one more time and push as hard as I can. The next few moments seem timeless as the midwife holds up my baby and places her on my chest. She has lots of blonde hair, and as she cries, my heart hurts like someone has just cracked open my skull. I shakily lean down, pressing my lips to her forehead and breathing in how she smells. I know I will never forget how perfect she is—her little nose, her tiny fingers, and that natural smell of complete and utter youth. The midwife cuts the cord and takes her from me, explaining she needs to clean her up. Everything is woozy as exhaustion creeps in. The next hour is like a distant memory while the midwife cleans me up and helps me sit enough to see my daughter, wrapped up in a pink blanket.
“They want to know if you’re ready to let them in, Regan?” the midwife softly asks and I pull my eyes from my daughter. She reads me like a book, like she knows I don’t want this. “You can change your mind. You can keep her if you want. I know you’re young but—”
“You don’t know anything,” I steel my voice despite the quiver catching my lower lip. Keeping my daughter means hurting her. It means forcing her to live the same life as me and I will never, ever allow that. “Let them in.”
The midwife sighs but she nods all the same and goes to the door. Tears fall in a silent torrent even when I beg them not to. The door opens and the couple I chose come in. Daisy and Philip Thornton. Both in their thirties, put together and unbreakable. Unlike me, a seventeen-year-old who is more broken than ever. They don’t have children, they lost three of their own due to birth complications and they are so sweet. Two primary school teachers who have been together since they were kids. They live in France, but came from London and speak both languages.
They will adore my daughter as their own, I know that, but it doesn’t make this easier. If anything
it makes this just about bearable.
“How are you feeling?” Daisy asks me, her eyes flickering from my face to my baby’s. “Do you need anything?”
I don’t answer her questions, a way of making small talk. She is just a lovely woman, but either way, she must be able to guess the answers to her questions. I feel utterly broken and devastated as I glance at my daughter and then back to her new parents.
“One day I’m going to escape my past and I want to live near you. I won’t tell her who I am until you both decide she is ready, or if you want me to tell her at all.” My voice breaks and I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I-I would just like to be a family friend. Someone you invite to parties and see maybe once a month for a cup of tea. I need to imagine a future where I can see her as I let her go, even if I’m not sure I can ever promise her this.” My eyes are still on my baby girl as more tears fall.
I want to promise her the world.
But all I can do is give her whispers of promises and hope she can accept them.
“You are our family friend, either way. Promise me, or her, or Philip. We will write a letter every year and take a photo every month of her life for you so even if you can’t keep your promise, you will know her,” Daisy firmly says and her own eyes, wet with tears, find mine.
I look down at my daughter one last time, her pink little cheeks, her mass loads of blonde hair and how perfect she is. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet and I have to let her go. I nod at Daisy and lift my daughter towards them. The joy on Daisy’s face makes my heart seem a little less broken as she admires her daughter.
Our child.
“Do you want to know the name we chose for her?” Daisy asks and I shake my head. Knowing will make it worse. Daisy seems to understand as she rests her hand over mine.
“Can you give her a middle name from me?”
“Of course,” Daisy quickly replies with a genuine smile.
“Anne,” I whisper and she nods in agreement. I look at the clock in the room, knowing I need them to leave before the sunrises in York. This place is as private as it comes but they have a plane to catch. I need them to disappear…because I’m never alone and never unwatched. I need to get back to the hotel I’m meant to be staying at. “You should go now.”
Daisy hands our daughter to her new dad and he heads to the door, waiting for Daisy as she looks down at our hands.
“Thank you for this. I am eternally in your debt and I will pay it off by loving our child and you if you ever become free,” she vows and I believe her.
I’d never let her take my child if I wasn’t sure.
“Our daughter is priceless and in danger if anyone knows about her. Stay quiet, okay? No social media, nothing online,” I remind her.
“I remember and I promise,” she says and removes her hand. “Goodbye Regan and good luck.” I watch them leave with my daughter and as the doors close, I cry harder than I ever have in my life.
The memory escapes my mind as I look at the chubby nearly one-year-old baby in the photo. She has light blonde hair in tiny pigtails, a cheeky grin as she smiles at the camera and holds a pink doll in her hand.
I run my eyes over every inch of the photo until my hands start to shake.
This is my daughter. My daughter!
“I hid the purest and best thing I ever did with my life. I hid her so she could be happy and free and actually live while I sure as hell didn’t. Where did you get this photo?”
“A French library took photos of all the kids that joined a mother and baby read-a-thon event. This was uploaded online, the only photo of her that is, and I have made sure no one else will see it. I have exceptional tracking skills and I’ve made sure no one can find her for you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, blinking back my tears. “Why would you protect her for me?”
“Because I’ve loved you since we were kids and no matter who her dad is, her mum is Regan Hall and that makes her family to me,” he explains and oddly I know he isn’t lying to me. Ethan sees me as his family under all the games, all the fucked up mess of our lives. We are family…and we have always been since we were happy little kids.
Ethan really does have my back.
And now I have to save him from my life, just like I did her.
“Ethan,” I softly say and he steps closer, resting his hands on my arms.
“Tell me everything you can about her, about her dad. Tell me anything you want or need to get off your chest and I will not go anywhere. It’s me and you, baby.”
I wrap my arms around him, resting my chest against his heart.
I love him too.
And for this…I know I will always love him.
The Veil Council should be hidden from view but on the rare occasion they host a party, the world can’t help but stare at the glitter and gold shining off them. Standing on the stone patio, I look up at the double doors in front of me, wondering if the man who made this house centuries ago was part of the Veil Council.
The enormous estate sits on the outskirts of London, the lavish building enough to put the royal family to shame. Ethan’s hand slides to the small of my back, his warm palm resting on my skin as I try to remember to breathe. The silver dress I’m wearing is not helping me at all. A tight silver belt wraps around my waist just under my ribs, and nothing but a tiny wrap of silk covers my breasts and stomach, leaving my back bare. The dress skirt falls to the ground in a wave of silver silk and a split up to my thigh exposes my leg with every step.
I didn’t choose this dress, nor did Ethan choose the silver suit he has on.
They both arrived at my room this morning, along with a note about coming here.
I glance back at Rory who is two steps behind us, his eyes fixed on everything around me.
Looking for danger in a world suffocated with it.
“Smile before they think something is wrong.” Ethan leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he warns me I no doubt look like I’m walking into my own funeral. I tilt my lips up in a forced smile, remembering my training for this moment as we get to the entrance. The two masked bodyguards don’t even look our way. They know without a doubt that no one in their right mind would try to sneak in here.
I run over the plan in my head one more time. The plan Rory, Ethan and I came up with, the one we have literally no choice but to act out. Rory is going to kill the guest of honour tonight at the Blood Party and it won’t be hard to figure out which one of the veil council is the guest of honour when we get inside. The distraction of his death will put the party on hold, and they won’t make me kill Ethan. It will give us a tiny bit more time to figure out the next plan.
My mind flickers back to Anne’s dad, and the offer he made. We could disappear. I could see my daughter and we could have another way out of this. One that means we are together and my parents can’t follow.
But when they are still alive…it seems like escaping would only be a fairy tale.
And I’ve not believed in fairy tales for a very long time.
“Keep walking, you got this,” Ethan whispers as we head down a small corridor full of golden statues of knights, each holding swords made of silver. The beauty of the corridor does nothing to make the ballroom we’re headed to any less dazzling than it is horrifying. Ten poles hang in the centre of the room and each one has a woman dancing in lace underwear, with blood dripping all over their pale bodies from fresh welts, their faces hidden by masks. Every so often one of the men or women in the room cut another line over a dancer’s body, but they don’t react. Reacting means death and whatever got them to this place must be worth staying quiet for. Soft music lulls me into a false sense of safety as I try not to look around, knowing the horrors that will hide in the corners of this room. We walk past a table where a man with dead eyes is getting a blow job from a blonde woman while two others rest at his side. I almost close my eyes to all the death and sex until I see my parents, dressed in silver like everyone else. My mother and father look so
much the part as they laugh between each other like the world isn’t burning around them.
Empty.
Cold.
Lost.
Everything about this world makes me want to run away but not until I’ve burnt it all to the ground like it damn well deserves. My mother and father turn to me at the same moment, like they can sense how close I am and I lift my head high.
I’m going to be what they taught me to be to save Ethan.
Our footsteps are hidden by the music as we walk to them and my mother’s hand rests on my shoulder, her nails digging in.
“Welcome to the Blood Party, daughter. I see you brought a guest.” My mother chuckles, tossing her coiled hair over her shoulder. “Lovely to see you again, Mr Remington.”
“The honour is all mine,” Ethan smoothly replies. Ever the silent man, my father says nothing as his eyes, the same colour as mine, rest on my face.
“Come now, Regan. We will get you ready for the next part of the ceremony.” My mother turns me away from my guys. “This is always everyone’s favourite.”
Rory moves to follow but I shake my head softly, knowing I need him to stay with Ethan who will be alone with my father. Whatever crosses Rory’s mind next makes him wince but he stays still as I let my mother lead me away into the next room.
The High Table is protected by glass. Each of the ten gold seats sits in a row cradling a member of the Veil Council. I stare at my parents for a second before looking at the woman on my father’s left.
The woman whose son I let drown and whose grandchild I hid from the world.
The Dutchess’ brown hair is nearly swept away with grey and held in a tight knot on the top of her head. Her silver suit reminds me of Ethan’s but instead of his bulky body, her silhouette is thin and nearly non-existent. I don’t let her appearance fool me though. She could kill a man four times the size of her and everyone in this room knows it.