by Zoe Chant
“Oh, she deserved it,” Ivy said, shrugging again. “She could have just paralyzed him if she’d wanted to. But she always had better control over her venom than her temper. Anyway, it was just lucky that I was eighteen and a legal adult by then. It took some fighting, but I got custody of Hope. It’s been just us ever since.”
Hugh stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. “Suddenly my family dramas seem rather pathetic.”
“Well, I told you mine, so now you have to tell me yours.” She lifted her eyebrows at him expectantly. “So come on. Why do you hate your father so much?”
He blew out his breath. “You may have noticed that my mother doesn’t give me a headache.”
Now that she thought about it, it was a bit weird how casually he’d accepted his mother’s embrace. She’d seen enough of him by now to know that he was nearly as jumpy about touching people as she was.
“I’m assuming you weren’t a miraculous virgin birth,” she said. “So I’m guessing that just means that your mother, uh, isn’t that into certain activities at her time of life.”
“She hasn’t given me a headache since I was a very small child.” The corner of his mouth twisted. “Being in the same room as my father, on the other hand, gives me a splitting migraine.”
She blinked at him for a second, not getting it. Then the penny dropped.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”
“Precisely.” His mouth tightened into a tense line, an old anger shadowing his eyes. “She’s chaste. He isn’t.”
“Ouch. They aren’t true mates then.”
“One can only assume not. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love him, though God only knows why.” His lip curled. “I suppose I should be grateful that he at least has the decency to be discreet about his infidelities. If it wasn’t for my sensitivities, I doubt I’d know about them. My parents have always led mostly separate existences. Mother and me up here in the main house, Father off on the other side of the estate in the Dowager House. His absence spared me from constant headache…but not my mother from constant heartache. I will never forgive him for that. Never.”
The ragged catch in his voice tugged at her own heart. More than anything, she wanted to go over to him, hold him tight and kiss away the pain of the past. But she didn’t dare. She was all too aware that they were alone together in a bedroom, just one temptation away from disaster.
From the heat kindling in Hugh’s eyes as his gaze swept over her, he was having much the same realization. He adjusted his position, abruptly stiff and awkward.
“Anyway.” His practiced, ironic smile flashed like a knife, killing the intimacy trembling between them. “That’s why I avoid my father. At least the feeling is mutual. He can’t stand to look at me either. But don’t worry. He’ll love you.”
She couldn’t tell from his bitter tone whether he was being sarcastic or not. “That would be a first. Why?”
“Because you’re his big chance. This is the man who took me to a brothel the day I turned eighteen, Ivy. He’s tried a thousand ways to pressure me into losing my unicorn. He claims that it’s a matter of necessity, that it’s my duty to sire an heir to ensure that the family line will continued unbroken. But I think he’s just jealous.”
“Because you’re a unicorn shifter?”
“I have what he lost, and it must eat him alive that I won’t give it up.” He grimaced. “To be honest, there have been times in my life when I only clung onto my unicorn out of sheer spite. I wanted to keep on hurting him, the way that he keeps on hurting my mother.”
“Hugh, this is bad,” she said, real fear gripping her stomach. She knew how to face down criminals and lowlifes, but an Earl? Under his own roof? “He’s going to work out what we are to each other eventually. What am I supposed to do if he starts pressuring me?”
“I won’t let him do that,” he said with fierce intensity, all his black, barbed humor dropping away. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But—“
In a single swift movement, he crossed the room. His hands cradled her face, and her half-formed words fell away, burned into ash by the heat of his touch.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said again. “I can handle my father. He won’t bother you.”
He was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. She had to close her eyes, fisting her hands in the coverlet to stop herself from reaching out to him.
He released her again, though she could feel the effort it cost him. “Trust me, you won’t even have to meet him. It’s perfectly possible to avoid someone for years in this place.” His tone was light, but his eyes were still dark with desire. “It’s rather a big house.”
She let out a shaky laugh, sliding off the bed. “That’s the understatement of the century. Come on. Your mother will think we got lost.”
“Don’t joke. It’s a genuine hazard.” Hugh held the door open for her. “Once when I was seven, I took a wrong turn in the attic and went missing for two days. They eventually found me trying to make a fire out of an eighteenth century escritoire and a vintage Chanel ballgown. My mother was livid about the ballgown.”
She hesitated as she passed, looking up into his face. Despite his light-hearted manner, a cold sense of unease still lurked in the pit of her own stomach. Her wyvern arched its barbed tail, ready to strike.
Defend, her beast snarled. Protect our own. Kill any threat.
“It’s all right, Ivy,” Hugh said softly. Leaning down, he brushed the lightest, gentlest of kisses on her forehead. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
Far away in Brighton, a dot blinked on a satellite map, marking a location deep in the Wye Valley. Gaze leaned back in his office chair, regarding his laptop thoughtfully.
“Well now,” he murmured to himself. “Isn’t that interesting.”
A few clicks confirmed that the GPS tracker he’d had planted in Hugh Argent’s car hadn’t moved for several hours. A few more clicks revealed further information about their final destination. Some very interesting information.
He idly turned his mirrored sunglasses over in his hands, thinking. A slow smile spread over his face.
Picking up his cellphone, he dialed his personal assistant, the one that he used for his legitimate work under a squeaky clean fake identity. He’d talk to his other assistants later.
But first…he needed tickets to a ball.
Chapter 17
The problem with being whisked away to a life of luxury in a fabulous ancient mansion was, Ivy had decided, the bathrooms. Namely, how long they took to reach. Even with Hugh showing her the way, the nearest one to her bedroom was a good five minute hike.
On her own, in the middle of the night, it was a lot longer than that. And now she’d taken a wrong turn on the way back, and had been wandering in increasingly confused circles for what felt like hours. She was pretty sure she’d somehow ended up in an entirely different wing of the house, and possibly on a different floor too.
“Crud,” she muttered to herself, swinging her cellphone flashlight around. She’d definitely already walked through this portrait gallery before. Generations of disapproving unicorns glowered down at her from the oak-paneled walls.
Next time I’m bringing a ball of string. Or possibly a trail of breadcrumbs.
Picking what was hopefully a new direction, she set off again. The house was silent around her, her every breath echoing in her own ears. She half-expected a headless ghost to come drifting down the corridor any second.
I wish one would. Then I could ask it for directions.
She turned a corner, and her heart lifted at the sight of a faint yellow glow, shining like a lighthouse beacon from a half-open door. Despite the late hour, someone was still up.
“Uh, hello?” she called as she approached. “Sorry, I’m a guest. I got lost. Could you tell me-“
She froze in the doorway, the words dying in her throat.
A man sat reading in a wingback armchair, his hair gleaming pure silver in the w
arm light of the single lamp. She knew those pale blue eyes, those finely-modeled features, those cheekbones sharp enough to cut. For a breathtaking second, it was like she looked through time, and saw Hugh as he would be decades from now.
But then the man turned his head, meeting her eyes, and he was nothing like Hugh at all.
It was like the difference between a living animal and one stuffed and mounted behind glass. The same general shape, the same colors, but stiff and frozen in a parody of itself. The coldness that she’d occasionally seen in Hugh’s eyes was nothing compared to the glacier-thick ice in this man’s gaze.
“You are the wyvern,” said Hugh’s father, the Earl of Hereford.
Venom slicked her palms, seeping into her gloves. Her inner beast was snarling, recoiling in fear and revulsion, every spine bristling. Every instinct screamed at her that this man was wrong, wrong, a black void where a person should be.
Caught between fight and flight reflexes, Ivy could only freeze as Hugh’s father rose. His empty stare swept over her, examining her from head to toe. His expression never changed, but he nodded slightly, as if he’d come to a decision.
“I will pay you ten thousand pounds to sleep with my son,” the Earl said.
Sheer outrage broke her paralysis. “You think I’d betray Hugh for money?”
“Land, then. Or position.” The Earl turned away as if bored, absently running a long finger over the leather-bound books lining the wall. “What is it that you want?”
“I’ll tell you what I want.” Ivy took a step toward him, clenching her gloved fists. “I want you to back off and leave Hugh alone. He’s told me about you. I’m not some pawn you can use against him, you jealous bastard. Mess with him again and you’ll be messing with me. And I’m not nearly as good a person as he is.”
“Ah.” The Earl’s thin lips curved slightly in a humorless smile. “So you love him.”
“Yeah, I do,” Ivy spat. “And I won’t ever let you hurt him.”
The Earl’s shoulders rose and fell in a long sigh. “I am not trying to hurt him. I am trying to save him.”
“Well, you sure have a funny way of going about it.”
The Earl picked up a book, turning it in his elegant hands. “I am the only person who understands him. Who knows precisely what he faces, every day. Tell me, wyvern. Do you know what it is to live with constant pain?”
Ivy hesitated, Hope’s thin face flashing across her mind. “Not personally. But my sister does. I know what she endures.”
“No,” the Earl said flatly. “You do not. Until you have lived in pain, until it has been your faithful companion, close to you as your own bones, then you do not know. I do. And I will do everything in my power to save my son from that torment. If you truly care for him, so will you.”
“He doesn’t want to be saved, asshole.”
“I know he does not.” The Earl put the book back, toying with the next one instead. “I did not either. I fought my own father for years, certain that I was right. Certain that nothing was worth giving up my unicorn. Swearing that I was never going to turn into him.”
He took a few steps away, brushing a hand over the back of his armchair, lean and restless as a caged wolf. He didn’t seem to be able to stay still for very long. There were deep, bruised shadows under his eyes. Ivy wondered if he was always awake at this time of night, and how much he slept.
“I held out until my mid twenties,” the Earl said, not looking at her. “Longer than most of us. Nearly as long as Hugh, in fact. But then my father died, and I inherited the estate. I became responsible for a precious treasure, this land that all my forebears loved before me. It was my responsibility to provide an heir. Even if it meant losing my unicorn. And when I did…I finally learned what it was to live without pain.”
He lifted his head, turning to meet her gaze straight-on. There was not a shadow of regret or uncertainty in his clear blue eyes.
“It was worth it,” he said.
“Yeah, apparently it was so great that you’ve been enthusiastically losing your unicorn ever since,” Ivy said in disgust. “Don’t try and make yourself out to be some hero. Hugh knows. He can’t help but know. He told me that you’re unfaithful to your wife. Is that some ancient noble tradition you have to uphold too?”
His hand tightened on the back of the chair, knuckles whitening.
“I should be grateful,” he murmured softly, as if to himself, “that he still hasn’t worked out the truth.”
“What truth?” she asked suspiciously, suspecting some sort of trap.
He didn’t reply for a moment, for once standing perfectly still. Then he let out a long, low sigh.
“I will tell you, because I would not see anyone hurt the same way that I have hurt my wife,” he said. “But you must promise that you will not tell this to Hugh.”
“No deal,” Ivy said promptly. “There’s no secrets between us.”
His mouth quirked a little, just like Hugh’s did when something struck his dark sense of humor. “Knowing my son, I very much doubt that.” He gazed at her in consideration for a moment longer. “But I will tell you anyway. Because I think that you truly do love him. And you will realize that this secret would only hurt him.”
“Now I’m not sure I want to hear whatever it is,” she muttered. “But go ahead. Tell me your so-noble reason why you can’t keep it in your pants.”
“Because none of us can. When the unicorn…departs, it leaves a hole.” He fisted one of his hands, right over his heart. “There is only one thing that can fill that aching absence. Even then, the warmth only lasts a short time. A unicorn cannot stand human touch. An ex-unicorn, however, cannot live without it.”
Ivy folded her arms, unimpressed. “So touch your wife, jackass.”
The Earl’s expression shifted only a fraction, but suddenly she could see the old, deep sadness behind that frozen mask. Her wyvern fell silent, wings half-spread, tail lowering uncertainly.
“I would,” he said. “But then she could not touch Hugh.”
…Oh.
“I see that you understand,” the Earl said quietly. “Hugh’s unicorn is very powerful. For most of us, the sensitivity does not develop until six or seven, but he was flinching away from the unchaste even as an infant. Can you imagine a baby wailing and struggling in his own mother’s arms, unable to bear her touch? It near broke my wife’s heart when I revealed the reason. I had not told her of the family curse before then. She didn’t even know about shifters.”
“You didn’t tell her what you were?” To hide something so fundamental from your partner felt wrong to Ivy. “You let her take your unicorn without any explanation at all?”
He shook his head. “She was not the one to take my unicorn. I did not want to lay that burden on anyone I cared for, let alone loved. By the time I met my wife, I had been a normal man for several years. I had hoped that I would never have to tell her that I had ever been otherwise. Sometimes, the curse skips a generation. But not this time.”
He turned away, going back to his restless pacing. “I could not ask her to choose me over our son. I did not want her to do so. I attempted to be abstinent as well, for Hugh’s sake, but it nearly drove me mad. My wife proposed a solution. I did not want to accept…but I had no choice.”
No one knew better than Ivy what it was like to be trapped in an impossible situation, with no good options. Nonetheless, her shoulders drew up around her ears. It was a shifter thing. Infidelity disgusted her on a visceral level.
The Earl cast her a rather sardonic look. “And now you are thinking that you would prefer madness or death to betraying your own life-partner. I know that Hugh shares your opinion. He has never been shy about letting me know just how much I revolt him. He is right to despise me. But not for the reason he thinks. I am not unfaithful to my wife, Ivy. I have never been unfaithful.”
The blatant falsehood put her hackles up again. She’d come so close to dropping her guard, even to sympathizing with him. Now she susp
ected it had all been an act.
“According to Hugh, you give him migraines,” she said. “And your wife doesn’t. You aren’t going to be able to persuade me he’s lying, so how do you explain that?”
He remained unruffled by her accusing tone. “Did Hugh also tell you what triggers the pain?”
“Yeah.” Damn it, she was certain she was blushing. “Orgasms.”
“Precisely.” The Earl didn’t look at her, focusing instead on his fidgeting hands. “I trigger extreme pain in Hugh because I do one of the most selfish, perverted acts imaginable. I take, and give nothing in return. The energy that should flow between myself and my wife, freely and joyously, instead concentrates in me like stagnant water. My wife sees to my needs, Ivy. But I do nothing for hers.”
She flinched again, but this time her revulsion wasn’t directed at the Earl himself. She hadn’t thought that there could be anything worse than not being able to be touched at all, but now she wasn’t so sure. To turn what should be the deepest expression of love into some grim, mechanical act, where your partner took no joy in it herself…the Earl was right. It was a perversion.
Hugh wouldn’t want this for either of his parents. Ivy knew that, down to her bones. But what would it do to him if she told him the real reason his parents were estranged? That it wasn’t because of any infidelity, but rather due to Hugh’s very existence?
She let out her breath, slowly. “You’re right,” she said. “I won’t tell him this secret. It would only hurt him. But he’s not a little kid now, you know. He’s lived out in the world, surrounded by the unchaste, and managed to survive. Neither you nor your wife have to make this sacrifice anymore.”
He cast her one of those razor-sharp, bitter smiles. “The thought has occurred to me. But my wife has spent her life sacrificing herself for the good of others. She would never put her own pleasure above the well-being of her child, no matter that he is a grown man. And she and Hugh have such a close relationship…how can I even think of asking her to consider jeopardizing that? How can I demand that she inflict pain upon our son, just because it pains me to be unable to please her fully?”