Bride of the Traitor (The Prophecy of Sisters #1) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,33
put his heir in your belly and you will settle in just fine to our ways here,” she coos.
None of her words calm me. Not in the slightest. Pinching my eyes closed, I inhale a deep breath before I straighten my back and wipe my tears away.
I’m going to be his kidnapped bride.
This freak is going to marry me and I’m never going to see my family again. They believe, truly believe that I am in some different world, even those women who claim to be witches.
I’m going to stay here forever, my family will worry and I think that could be the most heartbreaking part of all of this. My sisters won’t know where I am. My parents won’t ever be able to call and bug the shit out of me with their crazy-assed stories.
My life, my world as I know it is completely over and I’m at the mercy of this man who has apparently fucked the entire goddamn world and never gone back for seconds, though all the bitches have wanted him to.
I would end up with some deranged player. It’s just my luck. Every guy I’ve ever dated hasn’t kept it in his pants, why would this guy be any different? Maybe this is just normal for all men, maybe I’ve been expecting too much out of life.
My grandmother used to always tell me.
Billa, she’d say.
Billa, you are a rare flower, just like your sisters. No man will ever appreciate the four of you for the rarities that you bestow. You must see this inside of yourself, dear. You must love yourself above any man. Never, but never love him above yourself. For if you do, he will have far too much power over you, sweet angel. Men are only human, but the love that a woman has for the power that she holds is beyond compare.
I thought she was crazy. Now I realize that she was right. Men are pigs. They’re bastards and cowards of the worst kind and apparently even in another world, they are the exact same.
“Let’s try these gowns on, is there a black one?” I ask.
“Black? But milady, black is for mourning. Blue is tradition,” Jasmine informs me.
I snort. Not giving a rip if blue is tradition. This whole thing is ridiculous and I’ll wear black, just to be a bitch.
“Black is my first choice,” I snap.
All three women dip their chins before they turn to the heap of fabric. I know there is something black in the pile, because I can see it peeking out of the bottom.
I’m sure it will anger Elias, but since he’s making decisions for me and disappearing, then I’ll just do whatever the fuck I want.
I feel a little looney, like take me straight to the nuthouse looney. This can’t be real. Cannot be real.
Chapter Eleven
ELIAS
“You’re done with me, then?”
Duraina watches me from beneath her lashes. She’s attempting to be demure. I’m not sure that the word or the actions behind them work for her. She’s acting, because I, as well as every other man that’s slipped in and out of her bed, know that she is anything but demure.
Walking over to the pitcher of ale, I pour myself another goblet full. I’ll need it if I’m going to get through this conversation. What I should have done was send a missive, but for some reason, I thought this the kinder avenue.
“I’ll be wedding my bride on the morrow, Duraina,” I explain as my answer.
She closes the small distance between us, lifting her hand to her charms. Her fingers dip between the crevices of her breasts. My gaze flicks down to the movement, but for the first time, I am not tempted by the action or by her diddeys.
Naught about her appeals to me. She wears far too much color on her face, her hair is styled too neatly, she smells too overpowering of faux flowers. Her dress is too tight in an obvious way. She is just too obvious. Her lips turn into a pout and I wrinkle my nose, throwing back the goblet of ale, emptying the contents.
“But you are not wed to her tonight, lay with me again, Elias,” she purrs.
Her palm touches my chest and slides up, wrapping around the side of my neck. Her touch feels wrong, so very wrong. My body jerks with the realization that just days ago, her touch did not feel that way, in fact, this would have made my cock stand at attention.