Page 96 of Sinful Mates

I nod. I feel like all I do is sleep. Feeling constantly drained and exhausted. My mind goes to Josiah, wondering what has happened to cause such panic in Caroline. I can feel Tobias and Theo’s anxiety, they also feel closer to me. Like they aren’t far at all. I play with the bangle Claire gave me that blocks the bond, knowing I only have to take it off and they will find me. I can’t risk my baby. So, I drop the bangle and it presses back against my wrist. I lay on the bed before slowly drifting off.

My sleep is restless, and I can’t find a comfortable position, tossing and turning constantly. When I finally wake, it is because the storm is raging outside. The wind sounds like a freight train against the walls. The entire place shakes in its wrath. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and notice there is no light, and the cottage is eerily quiet. The only noises are the crackle of the fireplace. I stand and stretch, taking a deep breath only to see my own breath in the air. I can feel the heat coming from the fireplace, so why am I so cold all of a sudden? My breath makes little clouds in the air.

Opening my bedroom door, I see darkness. The lights are all off. I trudge down the stairs, excited to see the flames in the fireplace offering a little light. I can’t hear Claire anywhere or smell her cooking which I have become familiar with. Feeling a sense of dread wash over me, I feel the first sharp pain stirring deep within my stomach. I clutch my belly, trying to breathe through the pain and stumble down the rest of the stairs. That’s when I smell it. Blood and lots of it. My mouth waters at the delectable smell.

I stagger into the kitchen as pain ripples through me again, knowing I have to get the glass of blood from the fridge. But where is Claire? Flicking the light switch, no lights come on, the storm having knocked the power out somehow even though it runs off solar. I feel my way into the kitchen at the back of the house, listening for any sounds, but can only hear the storm raging outside and my own footsteps on the slate floor.

It’s not until my feet step in something warm and wet that I know something is wrong. I bend, pain searing through my abdomen at the movement and I feel the ground, my hands coming in contact with the intoxicating liquid spilt on the floor. I feel around my hand becoming coated in the gooey liquid, before I feel hair, curly hair and I jump. “Claire,” I gasp.

It’s her body bleeding out on the floor at my feet. I stagger back, panic setting in. That’s why she couldn’t see the baby being born, why she thought my future was dark. She was never going to live for it. I scream in agony as I feel something shift within me. Pain now being the only thing I can focus on.

I hear her laugh before I see her figure standing in the kitchen's corner in its shadows. She steps forward; I step back toward the primary room with the fireplace. I turn and try to run, holding my stomach, but she is in front of me in seconds.

The fire crackling, illuminating her features as I come face to face with the homicidal bitch.

“Miss me?” she taunts just as another wave of pain ripples through me bringing me to my hands and knees. My scream echoing and dying in the storm raging outside.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“What? No sisterly hug?” she taunts while I try to bear the pain. Coughing and sputtering, my blood spatters on the floor. I clutch the bangle from my wrist before tossing it in the fire with the last bit of strength I have left before collapsing. I stare up at her, a devilish grin on her face.

“Now why would you do that? I was hoping to enjoy myself but now I have to make things quick.”

“What do you mean?” I choke out, coughing on more of my blood. I try to turn my head and let the blood drain out of my mouth.

“Well, since you are dying, I figured the baby will need a mother, and since that can’t be you, why not Aunt Bianca? Though Mom, I feel, has a better ring to it,” she says, her manicured finger tapping her chin in thought.

My blood runs cold at her words. She wants my baby. And I know there is nothing I could do to stop her. I can’t even stand, let alone fight her.

“You’re not taking my baby,” I snap back at her, trying to crawl to my feet.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re dying, Imogen. I can do what I want,” she says, shoving me back onto my back with her foot. My body rolls onto the cold floor.

“Why are you doing this? Help me, please,” I beg, trying to reach any part of her humanity. She can’t be this evil. Something human must remain surely.

“Help you? Your mother killed mine when she found out she was up the duff with you. My father left mine in the wind completely forgetting the family he started and deciding to start a new one. I’m the last person who is going to help you, Imogen. You destroyed my family, forcing my mother to kill herself. You have the hide asking for my help. Don’t you think so?”

I shake my head, hoping she will understand I have nothing to do with her mother’s death. How could I? I never even met her mother so why put the blame on me? But she just kept rambling, and I let her, hoping it will distract her from what she is here to do, hoping it will distract her enough for them to get to me in time. Please get here in time, I wish with everything in me.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill yourself when your Immortal? She tried everything only to keep coming back or for me to stop her just in time. Only to do it all over again. The whole staking thing is bullshit. You not only have to stake yourself, but you also have to remove the head.” She giggles at her own rambling.

She is out of her mind. Sounds like the ramblings of a madwoman. Pain has me scream as I feel my insides being torn, like my organs being cut to pieces as I feel the baby shift within me, my belly feeling like is was doing backflips as it move.

“So, in the end. I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t keep watching her try anymore so I ended her suffering. Then, I hunted down our father ending him too, your mother didn’t like that, became a pathetic alcoholic assuming he left her. Yet it didn’t kill her the way it killed my mother. She lived for you and that pissed me off knowing I wasn’t enough for my own to stick around.” I try not to move hoping she will forget me laying at her feet. I cough up more blood and I can feel myself fading into the darkness. She kneels beside me, brushing my hair from my face, before grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at her evil eyes.

“Such a shame to think if we were born from the same mother, I may have actually liked you. Well until you stole them from me, too,” she whispers more to herself then to me. She lifts my shirt up, and I try to swat her hands away. She clicks her tongue, annoyed.

“Now, sis, be a good girl and hold still. Don’t want to cut your precious bundle, now do we?”

“This is going to hurt,” she snickers. Then I feel her hands rip me open. I vaguely hear the sound of crying and her voice.

“Aw, he is perfect, Imogen. A little boy.” I can feel myself fading. Then I lose myself to the darkness. I feel like I’m floating and falling at the same time. I feel weightless and surrounded by darkness. Her voice echoes around me on repeat. A little boy, a little boy. I have a little boy. Tears run out of my eyes. I just want to see him, just once, see his little face. What I would have done to see him, to hold him. Then I feel nothing at all but the agonizing pain of my death. I slip from this earth into nothingness. Dead and cold.

My father never should have done what he did, yet I know why he did it and I know he doesn’t regret it. He would do anything for my mother, just like I would do anything for Imogen or Theo. We are driving to the council knowing we can’t do much else. My father is to be punished for killing Alaric. Alaric taunted the wrong man, promising information when he had none. My father lost it, ripping him to pieces before being detained. Theo is driving, and I’m trying to rid my mind of my toxic thoughts.

The phone brings me back to reality as it rings. My hands shake as I read the name that pops on the screen. Mom. I answer.

“Where is she?” Not even trying to hide the anger I feel toward my mother.