Broken (12 page)

"Are you holding out on me girl?" Felix grumbled.

Genny looked away from her mother's soulless eyes to Felix's sadistic ones. "They're humans, they don't have much money," Genny told him.

"Of course they do," Marie replied flippantly. She began to kick her feet like a gleeful child. "You're just not trying hard enough."

The realization hit Genny harder than Felix ever had before, Marie actually
liked
how Felix treated her. There could be no other explanation for her mother's efforts to incite his temper.

"I expect more from you tomorrow," Felix growled.

"I'll see what I can do," Genny murmured.

Marie let out a small cry when Felix shoved her inelegantly off of his lap and rose from his chair. Genny would have laughed out loud at the spectacle of Marie sprawled on the floor with her skirts all tangled around her, but Felix had already moved forward to loom over her like a hideous gargoyle. She forced herself not to flinch away from his fisted hands and clenched jaw. A vein stood out on his forehead, his face flushed a vivid shade of red.

Genny braced herself as he placed his index finger in her shoulder and shoved her back a step. "You'll do better than 'seeing what you can do'." She had to force herself not to wipe away the spittle he sprayed in her face with each word. "You
will
bring more home tomorrow or you
will
regret it."

Before she could respond he backhanded her across the face. The inside of her cheek split open, blood pooled inside her mouth. Her hand flew to her stinging cheek but instead of cowering away from him, her head snapped back around and she glowered at him. She was tired of being pushed around, beaten senseless when the mood struck him, and treated as if she were less than a rat. Tired of her pathetic mother, her drunken lover, and being frightened.

Without thinking, her hand flew up and she slapped Felix with enough force to knock him back a step. Maybe it was Atticus's pure blood in her veins, maybe it was because she was so infuriated, or maybe it had always been in her, but strength surged through her veins as his head came back toward her. Behind her Camille gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, Marie stopped trying to fix her cumbersome clothing and simply gawked at them.

Felix's eyes were a fiery red color when they focused on her. Those eyes made her realize he was going to kill her but even as panic slid down her back, so did pride. He'd try to kill her, but for once she was going to stand up for herself against him and Marie. She may not be a manipulative wreck like Marie was but up until now she'd been acting like a spineless coward when it came to this man.

He grabbed hold of her tunic and yanked her forward so forcefully that her head snapped back on her neck. Genny's hands wrapped around his as he lifted her up and held her off of the ground. She stared defiantly back at him, refusing to show him any fear as she grit her teeth together and thrust out her jaw. He pulled her so close to him that their noses nearly touched and his rancid, wine soaked breath washed over her.

"You'll pay for that," he snarled before throwing her across the room as if she weighed no more than a ragdoll.

Genny hit the wall with enough force that the whole hut shook. A small cry escaped her as the distinct crack of one of her ribs echoed in the air before she crumpled to the ground. The grinding of her ribs caused her to wince but she put her hands on the floor and pushed herself up as he came at her again.

"No!" Camille cried and ran toward her.

Camille grabbed hold of her arms but Genny shook her off. Her sister came stubbornly back at her though. Genny thrust out her arm and pinned Camille against the wall as Felix knelt before her. She should be scared but instead she found herself strangely focused on the bloodshot veins running through his eyes.

"You'll bring me more money tomorrow or it will be
her
." He thrust a finger at Camille. "That will be paying me back." For the first time Genny felt true terror course through her, he must have seen it on her face as a sadistic smile twisted his mouth and he leaned closer. "Oh yes my dear, and believe me I have no desire to bruise
her
flesh. At least not in anger anyway."

Bile rose up her throat at the implications of his words. Camille shuddered and shrank away from him. "No," Genny whispered.

His hands rested on either side of her legs as he leaned even closer. "Bring. Me. More. Money," he enunciated clearly.

All the fight went out of her; she swallowed heavily. "I will."

He stood up and walked away. Camille leaned closer to her but Genny couldn't bring herself to look at her sister. Her mother smiled coquettishly up at Felix and took hold of the hand he extended toward her. Hatred for her mother blazed through Genny. Marie's false laughter trailed behind her as they disappeared into the small room they shared.

"Are you hurt?" Camille asked anxiously.

"I'll be fine."

"What were you thinking Genny?" she whispered.

Genny turned her head to look at Camille. Her eyes were filled with worry and there were fine lines around her pinched mouth as she stared anxiously back at her. "That I want to be free," she breathed. "That I've had enough of being scared of him. But it seems I've only made things worse."

Camille shook her head and curled up against her side. Genny draped her arm around her sister. A small cry escaped her as the movement jarred her broken ribs but she pulled Camille closer. "They can't get any worse," Camille said.

Genny thought over Felix's parting words and knew that things could definitely get worse; they could get
much
worse. Her fingers involuntarily drifted to the healing marks on her neck that were hidden beneath her tunic.

Maybe I should tell Atticus
, she thought. It would be embarrassing and awful, but she was willing to endure that humiliation if it meant Camille would be safe from Felix.

"Why were you sent for me?" Atticus asked as he and Merle made their way through the woods.

Merle shook his head. "I wasn't lying, I don't know, but I don't think it was for anything good."

Atticus frowned over Merle's words. "What makes you think that?"

"A caravan arrived today, while both of us were out."

"A caravan?"

Merle's shoulders slumped as he turned to face him. "From what I gathered from the servants, there were a couple of women with the nobleman that arrived, but they weren't his wife. I can only think of one reason why whoever it is would bring women with them."

A feeling of dread slid up his spine. "Our fathers wouldn't ambush us like that and we're too young for talk of marriage."

Merle's eyes were haunted when they met his. "There's a reason why we're still in this dreary country. Our fathers may have been born here but they are not a fan of this land either."

Atticus's hands squeezed his reins. The scent of asters still clinging to his clothes and the persistent taste of Genny's blood would keep him calm for only so long before he lost his patience entirely. He was fighting against turning Drago around and disappearing into the woods but there was no way he could do that now. Even though he felt like he might be walking into face his own death, there was no running from whatever waited for him at home.

It had started to rain again by the time they returned to the manor; the gray skies fit his mood perfectly as he handed Drago's reins over to the stable boy. Stepping outside of the stable, he spotted the four large carriages parked beside the building. The emblem of a serpent twining around a sword on the sides of the carriages caused his uneasiness to grow.

"Silas," he muttered. His presence here could not mean good things.

His gaze drifted to the manor. Candlelight flickered in the windows but the warmth of the flames did nothing to make the austere building appear more inviting. He'd rather stand here in the rain all night than walk in there.

Merle remained unmoving by his side, just as hesitant as he was to enter that building. "The House of Salaze," Merle murmured when he spotted the serpent emblem.

The House of Salaze was the aristocratic bloodline only a step below Atticus's own, and Silas was the head of it. The sick feeling in his stomach got even worse as he looked back at the carriage, he could almost feel the noose tightening around his neck. "We'd better get it over with."

"It's the end of our lives," Merle muttered.

In other circumstances Atticus would have told him not to be so dramatic but unfortunately in this case, he agreed with him. He took strength in Genny's lingering scent as he walked with Merle toward the manor. A male servant met them in the entranceway and stripped them of their damp cloaks.

"Your father would like to see you both in his solar, milord," the servant murmured.

"I'm sure he does," Atticus muttered as he stared at the empty great hall.

Merle's upper lip curled in disgust, for a minute Atticus thought he was going to walk out, but he threw his shoulders back as he turned toward Atticus. "I think I'd rather face a guillotine."

Atticus
knew
that he would rather face a guillotine, but he still walked into the great hall and toward the stairs beyond with Merle at his side. Their boots clicked on the stairs as they made their way to the closed door of his father's solar. Bracing himself, he raised his hand and tapped out three loud raps on the wooden door.

"Come in!" his father's strident voice called out.

Even before he stepped into the room, he knew his days of freedom were coming to an end. The sight of Silas sitting in the chair across from his Uncle Nyles still caused unexpected resentment to surge brutally through his chest. Silas's steel colored eyes focused upon him, the candlelight light flickering off of his golden hair made it appear almost reddish in hue. Atticus stared relentlessly back at the man, refusing to be cowered by his impressive size, intimidating gaze or the fact that there were few vampires more powerful than Silas.

"There is much power within him Thaddeus," Silas said approvingly to his father. They'd seen each other at The Council meeting but they hadn't spoken with each other and Silas had barely given him a second glance. Apparently there had been more going on behind the scenes of that meeting than he had realized though.

Atticus didn't respond to Silas's assessment but Silas didn't seem to require a response as he turned toward Merle. His eyes were just as assessing as they traveled over Merle. "Merle," he greeted.

"Silas."

Silas gave a brisk nod and turned his attention back to his father and uncle. "I think they will make fine matches."

Atticus's hands fisted, despite his every intention to remain calm, he felt his fangs lengthen at the words. He'd always known this day would come. He hadn't known who it would be, and he'd expected it wouldn't be for at least another hundred years, but it had always been understood that he would one day marry into the aristocratic line. That his wife would be chosen for him and Silas's daughter would make an excellent match. This match would bring a powerful alliance and eventually produce a strong heir. He hadn't seen Silas's daughters since they were children but even without knowing what his future bride looked like, he would have agreed to wed her in order to have this match right up until the moment he laid eyes on Genny.

Since he'd met and fallen in love with Genny the idea of being with someone else, of even touching someone else, made his skin crawl and his temper rise. How could he possibly convince his father that this wasn't to be? There was no way that he could get out of this wedding without creating a feud amongst their families, a feud that could decimate both of their lines.

"Tell the servants to bring my daughters in," Silas gruffly commanded Atticus and Merle.

Merle glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as his jaw clenched. Atticus didn't obey
any
one's orders though, even if they were older and more powerful than he was, for now. Merle reluctantly relented and turned to open the door. He beckoned a young serving girl forward, gave her some instructions and closed the door again. Atticus kept his gaze focused on the back wall as his mind spun and he tried to think of a way to escape the fate he'd been handed at birth.

Atticus's father poured himself a goblet of blood and passed it on to Nyles. "Son?" his uncle inquired of Merle as he held out the goblet of blood in his direction.

"Yes," Merle agreed and stepped forward to claim the blood from his father.

Merle gave Atticus a questioning look; he gave a brisk nod in response. Merle handed him the goblet before claiming another one for himself. The blood was thick as it slid down his throat but he barely tasted it. He dropped it on the table as the door opened again and two women were ushered in. Atticus caught a glimpse of hair the color of gold beneath the hoods of the cloaks they wore but their heads remained bowed. From what he could recall the oldest daughter was only a year younger than him and the youngest was two years younger.

"My youngest daughter, Jane," Silas introduced. One of the women lifted her head and pulled the hood away from her face. Atticus's gaze ran over her striking features before he turned to pour himself a fresh goblet of blood. "I think she'll make a suitable match for you Merle."

Atticus glanced at his cousin, he knew the last thing Merle wanted was to get married but his gaze was fixated on the woman's face. Atticus focused more attentively on the woman who had her hands folded before her. Her golden hair tumbled around her shoulders and fell nearly to the floor. Her eyes were a dove gray color; they were a softer color than her father's gray eyes though and more appealing.

Merle smiled back at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jane."

Her smile grew; she blushed prettily as she lowered her lashes to cover her eyes. "And this is my eldest daughter, Anna," Silas continued.

Atticus braced himself as Anna's fine boned hands reached up to the edges of her hood and she pulled it back. She continued to stare at the floor for a minute before finally lifting her eyes to his. He'd seen many women around the world but he'd never seen one as beautiful as she was. She was very similar in looks to her sister with her golden hair flowing to her waist, high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and full, rosebud mouth. Whereas Jane was cuter with her round cheeks and sweet smile, this woman exuded an aura of sexuality with her enticing smile.

Though her face was captivating, her eyes were by far the most intriguing thing about her. Like her father and sister, they were gray in color but a band of brilliant blue encircled the pupil and stood out like blood against snow. Long black lashes curled against her porcelain cheek as she briefly lowered her gaze before looking at him again.

Even as he was staring into those stunning eyes all he could picture were raven colored eyes that sparkled when the sun hit them. Even as he was drinking in the sight of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, all he could picture was Genny curled up within his arms. All he could taste was her tempting blood sliding down his throat.

If this had been last year he would have been thrilled with this match, but he couldn't stop his skin from crawling at the thought of touching this beautiful woman standing before him now.

Color crept into her cheeks as he continued to stare at her with little emotion. Shaking himself off and drawing on the years of proper etiquette that had been instilled into him, he gave her a quick bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you milady."

Her smile widened, her eyes sparkled in the flickering candlelight. "You also milord."

"I think this will make for a fine match for all of us," his father announced. "Two powerful families will finally be united."

The hair on his nape stood up. He felt as if the cold hand of death was brushing against him and he supposed, in some ways, it was.

***

The marriage contracts were still in the process of being drawn up when Atticus was finally able to take his leave of the others. He made his way down the stairs and into the great hall. His gaze slid over the empty table and chairs before he made his way to the front door and opened it on the clear night.

He wanted to go to Genny, to find her and hold her again. To drown out the events of this night with her. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this mess let alone explain it all to her. It was all happening too fast; his life had been taken from his hands and thrust into another's. He was supposed to become the most powerful vampire in the world one day yet he had no control over anything happening to him.

His jaw clenched as he leaned against the doorframe and studied the stars appearing in the sky. He at least understood now why his father was still in England, why they hadn't left as soon as The Council meeting had ended. There had been a marriage pact to try and arrange, and Silas was an Englishman that had always preferred to stay on his native soil.

"It's finally stopped raining."

He'd heard her approaching but he'd hoped she would go her own way and leave him be. "For tonight."

He caught the subtle scent of lilacs when she stepped closer to him. Her hands were folded before her as she tilted her head back to look at the stars. He gazed at her striking profile before turning to look at the night again. "Is this marriage something that you want?" he inquired.

"It will be a fine match," she murmured. It was the response she was supposed to give, the response she had been
bred
to give and the one that he should have expected. Instead, he found that it irritated the hell out of him.

"But is it what you
want
?"

Her delicate forehead furrowed as she looked at him. "Milord?"

"Will this make you happy?"

"Of course milord."

His hands fisted, it took all he had not to demand for her to answer his question honestly. There was no other answer for her though. All he was asking for was the truth but throughout her entire life it had been pounded into her that one day she would wed the vampire she was told to wed; she would fulfill her duties and produce an heir.

"Are you not pleased with the match?" she inquired nervously.

He turned away from her to stare at the stars again. A part of him was tempted to tell her, no this wasn't what he wanted at all, but like her, his upbringing reared its head. "It's a fine match."

Her smile grew as she tilted her head to the side to study him. "We will produce a strong son."

It took all he had not to shudder at the words. "We will," he said instead.

The breeze picked up, a deer crept to the edge of the wood line a few hundred feet away. Sensing their presence it lifted its head and sniffed at the air before bolting into the woods. The wind blew the hair back from her face. He turned away from the sight of the vein running through her neck.

His skin prickled with revulsion when she rested her hand upon his arm. "Would you like to go for a walk milord?"

He shook his head and shifted so that her hand fell away from his arm. Confusion marred her face as she tilted her head to study him. "Are you not pleased with me?"