His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  “We need more O negative. Page the blood bank.”

  Hospital staff whisk by me in a sea of blue and white, but I don’t lose Fawn. I watch her disappear into another room, and then I lean on the doorway, waiting for her to emerge.

  She walks out a few seconds later, carrying a bundle of towels in her hands. Surprise registers on her pale face when she sees me hanging on the doorway.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.”

  It almost makes me laugh to see the brief spasm of terror on her face. She turns away, but I grab her arm. The blankets fall to the floor as she gives me a furious look.

  “You were supposed to stay the fuck inside.”

  “They needed my help.”

  “Do you still want to be mine?”

  “What I want doesn’t matter,” she seethes.

  “You’re right. Because I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Then I haul her on my shoulder. Her body falls over my back as I hold her thighs, giving her ass a squeeze.

  “Put me the fuck down!”

  She grips my jacket to pull herself up. Her shrieks don’t even capture the slightest bit of attention. I’m just a syndicate man disciplining his woman. No doubt these poor bastards have seen it before.

  And it’s about to get a lot worse.

  She lets out a small scream when I smack her ass. “Be quiet.”

  “I’ll be quiet when you let me down!”

  The moment we’re cleared of the infirmary’s white double doors, I set her down. She slides down my body, red faced and hair askew. Damn, she looks as hot as she did this morning, and my cock stiffens when I think of her tied up to the bed. Her wild mouth and big tits and everything else about her body that I love are about to become mine for good.

  She balls her fist and swings at me, but this time I don’t let her hit me. This shit has got to stop. I grab it out of midair almost lazily and pin her arm to her side, laughing at her trembling lips.

  “Save the foreplay for later, baby.”

  She shoves my chest with both her hands, putting all her weight into it. I barely go back a step and this seems to only incense her.

  “I’m the one who should be angry with you, sweetheart. You disobeyed me.”

  “You are not my fucking father!”

  “Thank God for that.”

  But in a way, she’s not completely wrong. I’m not her dad, but I’m taking his place.

  This is all so fucked up.

  “Come with me.”

  “Where?” she snaps.

  I take her hand as a smile plays on my lips, thinking of the nasty surprise in store for her. We walk across the loud lobby and enter a deserted elevator. The doors close with a resolute finality and I press the buttons for the basement, where the chapel is. My heart beats furiously, and as the elevator jerks into motion, I slide my arm around Fawn’s waist and bury my hand in her hair. She melts in my arms the moment our lips touch, and I feel the beginnings of something tender in my chest. I can’t let this girl go. Not this one.

  It’s probably the sweetest kiss I’ve ever given her, and when she pulls back she looks confused and her cheeks are flushed.

  “Fawn, I—”

  The doors open and there’s already a line of syndicate men waiting on either side of the black hallway.

  Her eyes widen as she takes it in. I wanted to explain it to her right before we got there, but this must’ve been how Viper wanted it. The fucking cocksucker.

  “Silas, what exactly is going on?”

  “Come.”

  Fawn slips her dainty hand in mine again. The lights are more subdued down here, but the decor is something out of a Gothic mansion whose owner happened to have a fetish for Chinese imagery. It’s tacky. Overwrought. There are columns with ivory dragon heads, candles lit inside their mouths. Chinese calligraphy painted with gold leaf. We approach what looks like a cave, but there are candles hidden in the hollows of the walls. It’s a small chapel with an altar—two very sharp, ceremonial daggers lying on red velvet, where an older man garbed in thick black robes stands.

  The fuck is it with this place and blood?

  Fawn’s hand twists in my grasp, her wide eyes alight with fear.

  “NO!”

  They explained this part to me, too. That I’d have to drag her to the altar.

  Jesus Christ.

  I twist my hand in Fawn’s hair and wrap my arm around her tiny waist. Then I bend my head to her neck, where a vein rapidly pulses.

  “We’re getting married.”

  9

  Fawn

  “We’re getting married.”

  I stare at Silas’s mouth for several seconds. I heard the words, but I don’t believe them. I don’t believe the syndicate men surrounding this place, all wearing roses attached to their jackets with petals the color of dark crimson, or the priest standing at the blood altar, his faded black robes trimmed with gold, and the man grappling me, forcing me to become his bride. I don’t believe any of it. Silas half carries and half drags me into the chapel. I know what this is. I’ve pictured it a thousand times in my head, always wondering what my wedding day would look like.

  Weddings at the syndicate are medieval at best. I attended a few when I was younger, and lost my taste for them quickly. I didn’t want the syndicate weddings. I wanted the white dress, the flowers, and all the romance that came with them.

  I find my voice when Silas takes his first step into the chapel.

  “NO! This is not happening!”

  He’ll have to knock me out if he thinks I’m going to agree to this wedding. Harsh fingers twist around my arms, rendering me immobile. Dozens of indifferent male faces turn toward me as my shrieks rise to the ceiling.

  “I’m making you my wife.”

  I claw at his hands, twisting myself away from him. “Fuck no. I’m not spending the rest of my life married to a monster.”

  An amused grin lights up his face, and I look at the sea of black suits. They shake their heads with a little smile, as if I’m a toddler throwing a cute little tantrum.

  “No! I don’t want this!”

  My feet stagger on the floor, and then he sweeps his arm under my knees, forcing my legs to give out. Then he carries me like a rag doll, and the candle flames spiral as he deposits me on the stone floor, right next to the stone basin near the altar.

  I get up and slam right into Silas’s chest, and he wraps his arms around me in what would be an embrace, except they’re locked around me.

  My chest tightens when the priest walks up and down the aisles with a canister of smoky incense to drive away demons.

  No, this is not all right. I don’t want to do this. He’s a man I barely know, who has conned me at every turn. I can’t marry the man who killed my father. But to the syndicate, that might justify his ownership of me even more.

  His hands warm my arms, sliding up and down in soothing motions as the priest mutters archaic phrases in Latin.

  Silas’s face looks pale and slightly drawn, but determined.

  “Please don’t make me do this.”

  The crow’s feet near his eyes wrinkle as he smiles. “It was always going to come to this.”

  “Since when?”

  He doesn’t even want to be here.

  “Since you locked eyes with me when I walked in that room with your father. You were begging to become mine.”

  For a night. Not for eternity.

  Silas moves his hands to my shoulders and he presses down hard so that my knees buckle and I kneel on the concrete floor. The choking smell of the incense invades my lungs, and I cough violently as Silas’s hands tighten on my shoulders.

  “We are gathered here today to witness the joining of two souls in holy matrimony. They shall bind their bodies as one as husband and wife.” He raises his ancient head and gazes up at Silas. “Brother Silas, have you chosen a bride?”

  “I have.”

  I elbow his shins hard. “No you haven’t!”

  �
��Make her rise.”

  The unforgiving hands curl, wrenching me upright. All my backward steps push me right into Silas’s chest. My future husband.

  Oh my fucking God.

  I feel myself start to panic. My airway closes as the priest approaches, carrying a velvety cloth and a very long, deadly-looking ceremonial dagger.

  Fuck no!

  “Silas, please, no!” My vision is blinded by tears as the priest extends his palms, offering him the knife.

  “You must weaken yourselves in front of the other. As husband and wife, you will undergo trials that will test the bonds of your marriage. The only time a Dragon may be vulnerable will be in front of his wife. It is the only time he sheds his own blood.”

  With his arms like a vise around my body, he takes the gleaming bronze handle of the dagger. My eyes try to follow the edge, but it’s so fine that I can’t make it out.

  Sobs rack my chest as I watch him twist the blade in his hand. Then he grabs the hand locked at my waist and prizes it out. My arm shakes with the force of trying to wrench it out of his grip, and I feel his head turn. His lips brush against my ear.

  “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He says that as he guides an extremely sharp blade to my hand. Which part of me is he going to cut? My wrist?

  Before I can cry out, he flicks the edge across my index finger, and I watch as a tiny bead of blood swells over my finger.

  That’s it?

  His arms loosen around me as he brings my bleeding finger to his mouth. His hot tongue wraps around the wound and takes in the small drop. I see the dark stain on his lip before he licks it clean.

  His arms drop from my sides and he hands the dagger back to the priest, who offers a narrower blade to me.

  Excellent.

  I take the handle of the knife. My finger throbs a little, but it’s really nothing. I could stab his chest. Run him through with both hands clenched hard on the handle and watch blood darken his shirt. I could make him never smile again, but I don’t want that. I fucking hate him, but I don’t want him to die.

  I sure as hell want to hurt him, though.

  Silas tenses, sensing my rage. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture as I raise the dagger toward him.

  “Easy, sweetheart.”

  “I am not your sweetheart!”

  I lunge at the arm crossed in front of his chest. His skin is like paper. It slices open as I drag a long but shallow cut along his forearm. Blood swells from the angry red line as Silas gives me another amused look.

  He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s getting himself into.

  Then I swipe my finger across his wound, my stomach rolling when his blood stains my fingerprint. Gross. And no way out of this.

  I put it in my mouth, wincing at the metallic tang.

  “You must make an offering to the syndicate, and swear to uphold the tenets of the Dragons.”

  “I swear.”

  Shadows dance across Silas’s face, made from the flickering candles. The priest turns toward me, and I think almost longingly of three weeks ago.

  “I—I swear.”

  “Good. Come closer.”

  We approach the stone basin, the inside of which is stained brown from years of use. He pulls Silas’s wrist over the basin and unsheathes a dagger from his belt. His wound is still bleeding freely, so he lets the blood spiral into the bottom. Then he grabs my hand. My heart pounds as the priest’s dull eyes pass over me and he lifts the blade to my wrist. He slashes the side, and it fucking stings. I cry out and jerk my hand away, but he holds it still. A pained look crosses Silas’s face, and he covers my trembling hand with his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  Finally the priest decides that we’ve bled enough and he offers a bandage to Silas, who immediately wraps it around my wound even though his is worse. A small pang of regret hits me when I see his blood sprinkling the ground.

  “As the dragon’s breath devours flames, so shall it devour your body should you chose to betray us. Se mortem provocatio.”

  Whatever.

  Silas stops halfway between wrapping his own bandage when the priest adds a vial of liquid and then takes one of the candles hanging on the wall, lowering it gently to the basin. The blood mixture bursts into flames, and the shadows dance even more wildly across Silas’s face, making his smile carnal. Hope fades from my chest as he takes my hands so that we’re standing face-to-face. I can’t believe I’m here, in front of this burning altar, about to bind my life forever to a man I’ve known for only a few weeks. His dark eyes shine in the dim light, and then I notice that he actually took time to smooth his normally wavy hair, and that his cheeks are completely free of stubble.

  “Silas, repeat after me… I promise to guard this woman with my life. I will be her shield, her partner through eternity.”

  It’s surreal. I can’t be watching those words fall from his lips. I cling to the warmth of his hands, and when it’s time to recite my part my numb lips move. He takes the ring from a small pillow the priest offers him, and it’s a standard gold band with a tiny jewel, but it’s still more than I’ve ever had. With shaking hands I take the plain ring and slide it over his finger.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may—”

  He doesn’t wait for the priest to give him permission. The heat of his breath blows over my lips right before his mouth captures mine. He gently grasps the back of my neck, and inside me I feel a surge of energy, of tingling excitement that sparks over my skin because it’s the first time my husband kisses me. He’s softer than I’ve ever felt him, and I almost buy into the illusion when he pulls away, looking starry eyed. Earsplitting applause and cheers erupt around us. The cheers become bawdy yells when Silas lowers his hands down my back, inserting his thumbs between the waistband of my pants and my skin.

  Oh no!

  A feral growl bursts from his chest as he rips off my pants, and the cold air bites my ass. Fuck no! I’m not participating in this part! I bend down to grab my pants, but then his warm hands are sliding underneath my scrubs, his hot mouth devouring every protest I make. The cold slices me as he lifts my shirt, and I’m not wearing a bra, so he covers me with his hands. The moment we shared in the kiss is gone as a crowd of syndicate members surround us.

  I’m naked in front of all these people, some of whom I’ve known my whole life. I bury myself into his chest, and his arms wrap around me. I relax. Good, it’s over.

  But it’s not.

  He lowers his hands and gives my ass a squeeze before hoisting me into the air. I bend over his shoulder, screaming as a line of men follow Silas out of the chapel, shouting encouragement.

  “Take her tight cunt!”

  The lewd suggestions make my cheeks burn brighter as he turns, facing a door that creaks when he pushes it open. He turns around, giving them another view of my ass before his hand cracks across my cheeks and I hear a male voice lift with laughter. Silas turns back around as I bash my fists into his back. I get a view of dark wooden floors and a massive four-poster bed, a fire burning merrily in the hearth. Then the doors close with a resounding thud and he sets me down.

  Fuck him. I want to fight him and claw his eyes out, but he holds me to his chest.

  “Sorry.”

  “Is this what you wanted?” I say through a choked voice. “To humiliate me?”

  His voice rumbles through his chest. “It’s not my fault this place is stuck in the Dark Ages. That was a pretty fucking weird experience for me, too.”

  His warmth disappears from my body and I immediately cover myself with my hands, shivering. Silas runs his hand through his hair and grabs a robe lain on the bed. My eyes focus on the bright-orange light of the fire like a moth.

  I jump when cotton scrapes over my shoulder, and I snatch the robe from his hands and wrap it around my waist, sitting by the chair next to the fire.

  “What the fuck just happened?”

  Silas rips off his jacket, tossing it aside in an empty, ru
stic-looking chair. Glass bottles clink together as he grabs one with dark-red liquid.

  “This is booze, right?”

  I look at the tall glass container. It really looks like a decanter for wine, but who knows?

  “Fuck it.”

  He chooses another bottle filled with clear liquid and sniffs it cautiously, and then he fills two crystal glasses almost to the brim.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink after that.”

  The contents of the drinks spill over his hands as he walks toward me, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I take the glass he offers me, sipping the fiery liquid. It immediately goes to my head. Jesus, this is strong.

  The voices outside continue to shout, pounding on the doors. It puts Silas on edge. He sits down, his shoulders tensing.

  “What do they want?”

  “They want you to fuck me.”

  “Like having a bunch of guys screaming outside my room puts me in the mood.”

  I take another huge gulp and feel a hot wave spread through my face.

  “Why the hell did you do this?”

  The drink clinks down on the end table as he leans over his knees, the orange light alive over his face. “Because that psychopathic piece of shit wants you for himself.”

  I should have been the one to fuck you next to your father’s corpse.

  Viper’s high, cold voice booms in my ears. The drink almost slips from my hand as a spine-tingling chill runs down my back. I’d forgotten all about that in the midst of the chaos.

  “Viper?”

  In my mind I keep picturing the gun he buried in her chest, as if she were an annoying fly he longed to swat. He’s evil.

  Silas takes another long pull, the bitterness on his face gouging harsh lines. “He’d play with you for a while, and then he’d kill you. It’s his thing.”

  “You knew him, didn’t you?”

  The glass spins in his hands as he nods, staring into the fire with so much intensity that I’m surprised it doesn’t burst into brighter flames. “He was part of Pepper’s crew.”

  I don’t recognize the name, but I hold my tongue because of the faraway look in Silas’s eyes. Pain rounds his shoulders.