Chapter 13

Corrigan’s POV

I wake up the next day knowing that I will have to run away or go completely mad.

The soft bed, the luxurious surroundings, being waited on hand and foot by servants whom I know would poison me if Lucien wouldn’t kill them afterwards and being suffocated by mountain sized guards that seemed to follow my every move like they expect me to flush myself down the toilet and escape through the hotel’s plumbing system.

All I do is drink coffee and eat croissants and five course meals, get dressed like a Barbie doll in expensive clothing that only makes me feel suffocated.

I can feel the eyes of people following me everywhere I go.

Some probably wonder what a very ordinary looking girl has hulk-like bodyguards following her around, some know why and look at me with judgment in their eyes. I try not to care.

This is the twenty first century, for fuck’s sake, get the stick out of your ass.

Some, especially female eyes, wonder what Lucien would want with someone like me. If it makes any difference, I also wonder why he doesn’t just kill me.

I know other women enjoy watching him.

They enjoy the rest grace in his step and the lithe, muscular body. I wonder if I would have gotten used to all the attention I would have gotten as a mate to such a man. If we had gotten married years ago, would I still be worried about his fidelity? Would I laugh it off, confident in his ability to be faithful.

And there is the sick feeling of dread that comes with knowing that Lucien does not actually plan on keeping me alive so I have to wait for the day I lose all allure to him to be tossed aside or killed. Or to let myself slowly fall for him the moment he shows me the smallest sign of kindness.

I'm scared that I won't leave soon, I’d never leave again.

It would be no good to go out the window. It was barred.

I could break them, but that is not the issue. In the time I would be able to break them away from the window, Lucien’s guards would have found me. No, thank you.

I can't leave the hotel premises without being followed by at least one of the guards.

I sit at the table, biting my thumb. I haven’t heard from my parents and the only phone here is a telephone on the nightstand. I know Lucien wouldn’t leave me with even that unsupervised so he must have it taped. I sip my coffee, my mind traveling at the speed of light .

“I’m bored.” I pout, looking at Cormac for his reaction. He turns the page on his newspaper idly and I want to break the coffee mug over his head.

“I would like to go shopping.” I say to him, watching with satisfaction as he puts his newspaper down.

I stare at him sweetly. “Shopping.”

He grunts. “No.”

“I am not asking.” I say, chuckling slightly. “Lucien put you as guard over me. So, in essence, I control you.”

“I answer to Lucien.” He snaps.

I pout. “Does it hurt your ego to answer to a woman?” I ask in a song song voice. He leans in, his face and voice menacing.

“Don't get used to your place as Lucien’s mistress. Or get any ideas about being Luna. You're only as good as you’re useful to him. Then, he’ll snap your pretty little neck, like he should have done before he killed Dante.”

I smile, not letting the truth in his words hurt me.

“You'll love that, won't you?”

“Every. Damn. Second.”

I nod. “Until then, you answer to me.”

I walk into the first café I can see, sitting at a table by the window. Cormac sits opposite me, his arms folded. I had worn a jacket and a pair of jeans.

Underneath the jeans, I am wearing a mini skirt. I skin through the coffee menu, motioning to the waiter to make my order.

He takes my order and I excuse myself, enduring Cormac’s suspicious gaze, to go to the bathroom. He makes it stand. As though he wants to come with me.

“Don't worry,” I say dryly. “I’m not going to flush my head down the toilet just yet.” He scowls.

I walk towards the bathroom, going into the hallway with a caricature drawing of a female on it and going into one of the toilets. I turn the bolt behind me and get to work, shedding the jacket and throwing it to the floor.

I take off my jeans and straighten out the wrinkles on the skirt. I don't exactly look a million bucks but that is the least of my problems right now. I walk out to the sinks, twisting my hair into a bun.

That is the best I can do, considering the fact that my hair color is unusual.

I walk out to the hallway, where I see a waitress walking past and I call her attention. She turns to me with a tired, fake smile and I’m almost sorry for being forced to make her day much more dramatic.

Almost.

“Hey,” I say, putting on my most pitiful face. “That man, on my table…he…he's threatening me.” I stammer. Her eyes widen and I nod, pulling her side so he doesn't see her.

“Do you guys have an emergency exit, by any chance?” I ask, cutting her sorry before she begins to ask about particulars. She nervously points me to a doorway behind a beaded curtain at the end of the hallway. I nod, thanking her.

I walk towards the exit, breathing in the smell of freedom.

Lucien’s POV

“What do you mean you can't find her?” I growl, forgetting my resolve to be calm. Cormac is pacing the floor of her suite, making calls.

“We’ve checked all around the café and even in the surrounding streets, she seemed to have disappeared.”

“Did you check her scent trail?” I ask, my fists clenching.

Cormac looks almost apologetic as he says, “She must have masked it.”

I’m torn between wanting to find her and wanting to strangle her for the pressure I’m under right now. I feel fear, bitter in my throat. What if anything happens to her? If she gets hurt, or worse, killed? Impatient anger coursing through me, making me violent.

I pick up the telephone on the nightstand, sending it crashing against the opposite wall. It is a bit satisfying, but only a bit. I go out to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the view of the city. Corrigan could be another down there.

“I’m going to find her.” I say finally, unable to sit still much longer while Corrigan is missing. I hope Corrigan is safe, so I can wring her neck myself.

Third Person POV

Niles knows Rhys is coming back. He had known that a head-on confrontation with Lucien would only end in his death or severe injury and loss. So he had let Rhys figure it out by himself.

All he had had to do was strike a match, and the fire evolved into a full blown inferno.

If Blackthorn had killed Rhys, Corrigan would have been heartbroken and devastated, gullible and easy to turn to a weapon. If he spared Rhys, Niles knew he would be angry, nursing his hurt pride.

He would be the perfect ally. Also, Niles is sure Rhys must have been demoted from the role of beta of the pack. Lucien is not stupid. He must have figured out who was stuffing all those funds in a private bank account.

So Niles waits. He doesn't have to wait long to get the call from Rhys. He picks up on the third ring.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your conversation?”

“I want Lucien Blackthorn dead.” Rhys says, cutting to the chase.

Niles liked his forward approach. “What changed your mind?” Niles asks, although he is already half sure.

“That is not the present topic, is it?” Rhys snaps and Miles smiles

“Whatever you say.” Niles says offhandedly. “I will need the help of your daughter. She is—for want of a pretty word for it—rather close to Blackthorn, isn't she?”

“I will not let my daughter whore herself out for some usurpation plan of yours. Keep Corrigan out of this.”

Niles nods. “Your consent—or lack of, thereof—does not seem to matter much, does it? Considering how she already is whoring herself to Lucien.

And your plan to end her…” Niles's Voice trails off with a discreet throat clearing. “…service to Blackthorn didn't end quite as spectacularly as you expected, did it?”

Rhys’ silence gives him all the answers he needs.

“Go on to the Gold Rose Hotel. Lucien has set Corrigan up there as his mistress. Talk to her and make her see the reason.”

With that, Niles sets the receiver down and sits back, sniping off the edge of his cigar and lighting it. He closes his eyes. Soon, Anneliese will have justice.