Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3)

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Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3) Page 17

by Hayley Faiman


  “She didn’t. I’m guessing that you never read her diary?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I just watch her, waiting for her to tell me exactly what she’s referring to in Adelaide’s journal writings.

  “She spoke of her love for you. She wrote what happened while they had them, that was really hard to read, but she never once gave up on you. She also never once blamed you for anything. I know that I was wrong to read it, but I’m glad that I did, Colt. I’m not sorry for it. I saw another side of you in her fond memories, a side that I don’t think anyone else in the world has, or ever will, see again. I fell in love with you through her writings.”

  “Birdie,” I choke.

  She clears her throat, her hands still wringing together in front of her dress with nervousness. Her rambling, it’s far too endearing to stay cross with her for even a moment, let alone any longer than that.

  “You do not love me,” I breathe.

  She chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s crazy. I shouldn’t, you’re awful and moody. You disappear in the night when you’re angry. Which to be honest, I really want to know where you went, but I’m also terrified to find out.

  “You’re too handsome for your own good and I’ve never been one to be with extremely handsome partners, mainly because I always get cheated on and broken up with, and I just figure a hot guy is going to do it even more than just a normal good-looking guy.”

  Before she can say another word of nonsense, I take a step toward her, wrap my hands around her small waist and tug her against my chest. Slanting my head, I crush my mouth against hers and kiss her.

  It’s hard and owning.

  It’s meant only to shut her up, but it only makes my heart slam inside of my chest harder and my blood begins to boil beneath the surface of my skin. It makes me want her. It makes me desire and need her. It makes whatever curse the gods have put on us grow stronger and stronger.

  My need for her intensifies to an aggressive level. Picking her up by the waist, I turn her around, my tongue deep inside of her sweet mouth, as I walk us over to the desk and place her on the edge.

  “Colt,” she exhales as I nibble on her bottom lip, breaking the kiss. “You don’t love me, you don’t want me, you left me,” she murmurs.

  Clearing my throat, I lift my head and tip my chin, looking down into her eyes. She’s panting, her lips parted and swollen, her cheeks flushed and her chest pink. I watch as her tongue slides across her bottom lip. My own mouth slowly curves up into a grin.

  “Darlin’,” I rasp. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  BIRDIE

  Colt is standing in front of me, his body pressed against my legs. I could push him away and I should, except I really don’t want to, so I choose not to. Instead, I spread my thighs apart, reach for my skirt, bunching it with my hands, and hike it up to my waist.

  He dips his chin, looking between us, then slowly moves so that his hips are between my legs. “I never left you,” he murmurs.

  Liar.

  Arching a brow, I look up at him and his lips curve up into a grin. “I walked away, but I regretted it. I was shocked and angry,” he admits. “I did not leave you.”

  I’m shocked that he’s actually talking to me about this and not just kissing me to shut me up, then fucking me to make me scream. He clears his throat, his gaze silently focused on mine, then grins.

  Pressing my lips together, I narrow my eyes on his and tilt my head to the side. “You’re not going to tell me where you went, are you?”

  His grin grows and he shakes his head once, but then he begins to speak. “I went to the bordello. I played a few hands of poker and had a couple glasses of whiskey.”

  My heart starts to pound wildly in my chest as I wait for him to finish telling me exactly what else he did at a whorehouse. I know that it’s a bar, but I also know what else it is, and I want to hear it all.

  “And?” I urge.

  His gaze shifts to the side, then slowly comes back to meet mine. “And I was invited into a new girl’s room by Bessie Silks, the madam you met the other day.”

  My stomach drops.

  Tears immediately fill my eyes and I’m glad that he’s being honest, but does he have to smile as he’s speaking about it. Does he have to reminisce? What the actual fuck?

  Colt shifts closer to me, his mouth brushes against mine and he lets out a breath. “Nothing happened. She was just simply not you, Birdie. I didn’t even get two steps inside of the room before I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was not where I wanted to be, that there was only one lady’s bedroom I wished to be standing in, and only one lady I wished to be inside of.”

  “Lady?” I snort. “I’m guessing what I’m doing with you, the way that we do it completely negates the lady title.”

  Colt lets out a chuckle, but doesn’t move his lips from mine. “You’re indeed a lady, darlin’. My lady.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He hums. “Yes.”

  Then without another word, his tongue slips inside of my mouth and he tastes me. His stroke is long and hard, my entire body melts toward him. Lifting my legs, I wrap them around his waist and pull him closer to me. I can feel his hard length beneath his wool trousers pressing against my center.

  He grunts, continuing to kiss me, shifting his hips backward, while his hands move between us. I can feel him working open his pants, then he begins to fiddle with my long bloomer shorts and I gasp when he rips the thin material in half.

  My head drops back and I let out a moan as I feel his hard length press against me. I want to feel him slide all the way in. I need him to stretch and fill me. The wind blows in through the window, filling the air with a sweet smell as he slides inside of my body.

  Lifting my head, I bury one of my hands in the back of his hair and grip the strands tightly, my eyes focused on his and looking nowhere else. His gaze does the same, his eyes don’t leave mine as he begins to move inside of me.

  “Colt,” I breathe.

  He dips his chin in a slight nod. “I know,” he rasps.

  One of his hands lifts, wrapping around the side of my throat before he shifts it to the back of my neck and squeezes me there. His grip is firm, his gaze intense as he begins to slam into me, grinding his pelvis against me with each thrust.

  I watch as he licks his lips, his breath coming out in soft pants as he fucks me. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t kiss me, just watches me and it’s so intense. A shiver breaks out over my entire body, my breathing coming out in a shaky exhale.

  “You’re mine, Birdie. The gods have decided this without us, but even if they had not, you would still be mine.”

  Shaking my head, tears fill my eyes because it is simply not the truth. I may have fallen in love with him, but he has not done the same with me. He is saying this because the fate of his world depends on it, not because he believes it.

  Something shifts in the air around us, something that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I can practically taste the humidity in the air. Colt growls, his body moving harder and faster as he brings me closer to the edge, teetering and on the verge of falling over.

  My fingers grip his hair as my chest pushes forward and my head falls back. Closing my eyes, I feel—everything. His lips brush the center of my throat, his hips moving and grinding against me with each thrust, then he stops as his lips suck on my neck.

  “I love you, Birdie.”

  “No, you don’t,” I grind out.

  He snorts, then nips my bottom lip hard before he forces my head back up, gripping my neck tightly. I’m afraid there are going to be fingertip shaped bruises along the sides of my throat as hard as he’s gripping me, but he certainly has my attention, especially when he slams inside of me and doesn’t move again.

  He’s frozen. I’m frozen. Our breaths are heavy as we watch one another, but it’s Colt who speaks first.

  “I do, darlin’ and I plan on showing you.”

  Shaking my head, I pinch my eyes closed, but he doesn�
��t allow that for long. His mouth touches mine and he lets out a moan that I feel down to my bones. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, just touches his lips against my own as he begins to move his hips again.

  This time he takes me slower, softer, and dare I say, sexier. I didn’t know that it was possible for him, for the way he moves inside of me to even be sexier than it already was, but it is and my breath hitches as my orgasm starts to take over my entire body.

  I love this woman. I know that I shouldn’t. It could all be a mirage, but gods be damned, I love her.

  The orgasm rushes through me, the words that he says, filling my head, but his mouth doesn’t move. It’s then that I realize I’m reading his thoughts. My legs start to shake and I try to concentrate enough with my own thoughts to send them back to him, but I can’t.

  Then it hits me, it flows through me, a euphoria bigger than anything I have ever felt before in my life.

  Colton James loves me.

  His hips don’t stop moving, they speed up as he grips the back of my neck, his lips still touching mine, and then he buries himself deep inside of me with a groan. I feel his release fill me and then something happens.

  Something magical fills me, then sparks of gold crackle between us.

  Colt pulls his head back, his eyes finding mine and I expect him to jump back, but he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze focuses on mine and his lips turn up into a grin.

  “This may be destined by the gods, but it is meant to be because it’s what I want, darlin’.”

  “Okay,” I breathe. “It’s what I want, too.”

  “Marry me tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  COLT

  Shifting my gaze to the window behind Birdie’s back, I watch as Abraham rides toward the house. Ernest is gathering the priest from the camp and the wedding ceremony will be soon. It isn’t what I really wanted, in fact, I never planned on marrying her, even after I decided to keep her.

  Marriage isn’t really for me, not again anyway. I did that once and I haven’t had a desire to do it again, but the scholars were clear. She needs to be my wife, our children need to be legitimate, and to save this world from whatever wrath the gods have somehow enacted, we will need to love.

  Love.

  Looking into her eyes, I wonder if I do indeed love her. Then again, this was all sanctioned by the gods, so I suppose I’m meant to feel this way. I should just allow the false feelings to flow, what would it matter? I have no choice in this, absolutely none.

  Gathering her in my arms, my softening cock still buried deep, I shift my hand from the back of her neck and wrap my arms around her back, holding her close.

  “Tomorrow?” she asks, her voice soft as she tilts her head back to look up into my eyes.

  “Tomorrow.”

  There’s a moment of silence, then I slip from inside of her, an emptiness fills me that I can’t quite explain. Pulling up my trousers, I help straighten her dress out as well, then help her down to her feet.

  Birdie looks deliciously rumpled and I can’t help but think about the fact that she is just that and it’s because of me.

  “Colt?” she calls out.

  “My name, Birdie.”

  She shakes her head. “I already told you, that’s hers, not mine.”

  Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. “You did and yet, I still want to hear it.”

  “Colton.”

  I hum, leaning forward and touching my lips to hers. It’s perfect, the way she says my name, the way her voice climbs, then falls but she’s right. It isn’t ours, it is Adelaide’s. I’m not the same man now that I was with Addie.

  “Colt,” I rasp.

  “Colt,” she exhales. “Tomorrow I’ll happily marry you.”

  “I’d be obliged,” I say with a grin.

  Before either of us can say anything else, there is a knock on the door. Walking over, I open it and tilt my chin down. Florence is standing in the doorway, her head tipped back and a grin planted on her lips.

  “The priest is here,” she announces. “And Abraham is also here for Miss Collins.”

  Florence doesn’t even try to hide her smile, it is plastered across her face. Birdie begins to walk past me, but I don’t allow her to go far. Extending my arm, I wrap my hand around her waist and haul her against my chest.

  Lifting my other hand, I cup her jaw and slide my thumb along the apple of her cheek, looking into her eyes.

  “Thank you, darlin’,” I rasp.

  Her eyes widen and her lips part in awe as she stares at me, then her lips curve up into a grin.

  “For?” she asks, feigning innocence.

  She knows why, but she wants me to say it aloud. She wants to hear the words pour from my lips and it’s the least that I can do for my bride. I can’t believe that I’m contemplating this, and yet, it doesn’t feel as damning as I thought that it might.

  As I figured it would.

  Perhaps the gods have sent a balm for my soul, for my heartache, along with this woman.

  Perhaps this woman is the balm in and of herself.

  “Being you. For coming to me. For everything,” I murmur.

  Her eyes widen and they fill with unshed tears. “You too, Colt. Thank you.”

  Dipping my chin, I touch my lips to hers then release her. She turns from me and makes her way toward Florence. When I lift my gaze, I notice that Florence is watching me with a shrewd expression on her face. I’m not sure what she is thinking, but I’m not quite sure that I want to know either.

  Arching a brow in her direction, I expect her to send Birdie on her way then come in to talk to me, scold me, or just tell me whatever is on her mind, but she doesn’t. Instead, she spins around and follows behind Birdie and together they disappear in the house. It’s unsettling and I shake off the odd encounter as nothing, but can’t seem to push it completely out of my mind either.

  Settling behind my desk, I start to go through my correspondence and cringe at the sight of a new letter sent by the Assembly. Ripping it open, I inhale a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh and start to read the short penned letter.

  Mr. James,

  It has come to our attention that there have been some new developments in your personal life that could have an impact on the fate of this country. We have sent two representatives to your estate and they have been instructed to bring you and your new woman back here for in-depth questioning.

  The Assembly

  “Great,” I grunt to myself. “Drat.”

  “Sir?” Ernest’s voice rings out.

  Lifting my eyes, I am not surprised to see the priest standing next to him, but I am a bit taken aback by the scholars standing behind them both. Arching a brow, I sit back in my seat, lifting my hand to urge them inside.

  As he always does, Ernest walks straight over to me, past me, and stands behind me and one step to the left.

  “Is there something you would like to say?” I ask, my gaze flicking from one scholar to another.

  “You’re to marry her tomorrow?” one of them asks.

  Dipping my chin, I stare at them and wait for them to tell me what they want. They were the ones who told me that I must marry her and now they’re in here asking questions. Whatever they have figured out, whatever they know, they better spit it out.

  “Her magic grows, she is the one, if you were questioning.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  The head scholar takes a step forward. “We saw her magic in full force with the weather, but there is more to her. Whatever her true powers are, they are growing inside of her. We aren’t sure what they are, but she probably knows.

  “She is only growing stronger with each day here, and once you’re married and your heir grows inside of her, we believe that her magic will grow too and hopefully reach its full potential soon.”

  BIRDIE

  The dress is gorgeous, but it’s clearly not white. I don’t know why it seems so important, but I’ve always wanted my wedding dress to be white.
Apparently, here, you just wear your nicest dress for your wedding and not necessarily a deemed wedding dress. I’m not sure how I personally feel about that, but according to Martha, Florence, and Abraham, it doesn’t matter.

  “It’s beautiful,” Martha whispers.

  Abraham is finishing putting up the buttons in the back, at the neck, and is looking me over to make sure it’s perfect. The dress itself is pure silk and a light blue. It almost matches my eyes, it is gorgeous, but it’s not white.

  I decide to stop being picky and just wear the fucking thing without complaint. In this world, it would never look like my dream wedding dress anyway. Sliding my hands down the front of my skirt to smooth it out, I take a long look at myself in the mirror.

  Tomorrow I’m going to be a wife.

  Wife.

  A wife to a virtual stranger, in another dimension, to a man some gods have chosen for me. How is this even real? I start to panic and I suddenly feel like the tight collar around my neck is growing even tighter.

  Florence must sense my panic attack for what it is, because in seconds the buttons are undone and the laces of my corset are loosened. Gasping for air, I hear her excuse Abraham, thank him, and tell him to leave the trunk of dresses in the hallway before she closes the door.

  “You must calm,” she urges.

  Turning to her, I gulp the air and sink down to the floor, assuredly wrinkling my pretty new dress.

  “I can’t calm,” I admit on a whimper. “Did you know sparks shot out between us earlier? Did you know that I connected with my sister, but she couldn’t hear me? Did you know that while we were together, I could hear Colt’s thoughts?”

  Florence then gasps before her own ass sinks down to the floor in front of me. “What?” she breathes.

  “Something is really wrong. Like something is wrong, Florence.”

  Her eyes are wide, but her lips curve up. “I knew that your magic was growing. We must, must, must work together to harvest this, to control it. If you can tap into people’s minds, you can be the greatest asset to your new husband.”

 

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