Page 77 of A Tale of Two Dukes

Even in the dark, I feel the glee rolling off of Whiteport. Out of all the other friends, he seems to be the best choice to have with me at this moment. Not only does his bloodlust equal my own, but he also has a way of using logic to keep me grounded.

Though it pains me to leave my stallion behind, I rub his nose and promise him we will return. He nickers, pawing at the ground as he bobs his head up and down. It’s as if he understands me, urging me on to the finale of my quest.

With grim resolve, we take off, like thieves in the night. The moon lights our way as we fly like the wind. Though not as fast or responsive as my stallion, this replacement seems to understand the urgency of our need.

Please be okay, I whisper into the bond. Please hold on until I can get you.

CHAPTER 33

Catherine

My head feels fuzzy, foggy even as I pry open my eyes. We’re back in that infernal carriage. The rocking sends nausea bubbling up until I nearly choke. However, I’m still lethargic enough that I cannot find it within me to move.

Panic beats at my insides, but it’s not me. William shouts at me, demanding I sit up, so I don’t suffocate. But would that really be such a bad thing?

Caught between heaven and hell, it’s the closest I’ve been to that beautiful litmus between pleasure and pain that William bestowed upon me when we came together in his pleasure dungeon. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to wake up.

Hugh is there too, a looming presence that threatens to push everything out. His mind touches mine, slithering about like a snake poised to strike. I hate every moment I share in this space with him, and so I choose to focus on the man I love.

In my mind’s eye, I’m no longer rocking back and forth, carried about by beasts of burden. I’m nestled in William’s arms as he soothes me back to sleep. Sleep. It sounds so delightful.

However, as my eyes drift back shut, rough hands grab me, jostling me until they open again. Words and shouts ring in my ear, buzzing, but I understand nothing. The carriage jerks to a halt as my head slumps forward.

When the doors open and I’m thrust outside, the heat of the day beams down upon me, churning my stomach until all I can do is empty the contents. Those same hands grab me, forcing my head forward as everything leaves in a violent rush.

The more I purge, the lighter my brain feels. I can see again. I can hear. In fact, the twittering of the birds and buzzing of the insects are so loud it causes my head to throb.

Unseen hands thrust water under my lips, and when I drink, my stomach cramps. Pulling away, I purge again until I’m heaving and nothing more comes out.

All the while, I feel my mate in my mind. He’s nearly delirious with fear. Fear for me, fear for us. But underneath all of that is an undying love that warms me from the inside out.

Despite the chills that wrack my body, I rest in the heat of his devoted affection. It’s as if I have a sun inside my heart, and its rays touch every bit of me until I’m consumed with it. If I die, I will die basking in the glory of his love.

You will not fucking die on me, William growls in my mind. I will not allow it. If you die, I follow behind. I cannot, will not, live without you. Do you understand me?

Silence rings in my ears as I puzzle through his words. I want to live. I don’t wish to die. It’s not as if I have designs on my own life. But with the way my stomach cramps, I worry I don’t have a choice.

Drink more water. That is an order, kitten.

Grabbing the container with shaky fingers, I sip, seeing if I can hold it down. When that doesn’t come up, I take a little more. Again, the hands drift in front of me, this time with a bit of bread.

Instead of bile rising, my stomach actually growls. With a sigh, I take a bite and swallow, all the while fortifying myself with the purr of my mate. Though Mr. Beaumont is by my side, he does nothing to calm the distress. He doesn’t care to.

The difference between the two men who claimed me is startling. Only William cares enough about me to help me through until my breathing returns to normal and my stomach settles. Not that I ever had any feelings other than revulsion toward the blackguard who holds me hostage.

It’s just one more thing for me to latch onto to force my body to live for. My mind finally clears as I rise back up and turn to the monster in question. “Please,” I beg, detesting the weak waver in my voice. “Please, no more. I cannot take it.”

His lips thin in a line as he turns toward Elijah. “That will not be an issue any longer.” With a quick jab of his hand, Mr. Beaumont slams his fist into Mr. Elijah’s side.

The man stands there, his lips parting in an ‘O’ of surprise. Vermillion stains the front of his shirt, creeping into his jacket before the servant falls to the ground, clutching the wound. Shoving me back into the carriage, Mr. Beaumont raps the top, signaling for us to leave.

Horrified, I stare out, watching as we leave the man, and my nauseant, lying in the dirt. Not that I felt any sort of kinship to the man, but no one should be left to rot out in the sun. That is, unless it was the devil himself that sits next to me looking pleased with his actions.

“I hear your thoughts, omega. Such vitriol doesn’t become you. Once you are my wife, you will put away such willful ideas. Besides, he nearly killed you with his stupidity, giving you far more opium than he should have. I say let him rot.”

I shudder at his words, choosing to ignore just how close I was to death. “I am not your wife yet, and so I will keep my mind occupied as I will.” The moment those words leave my lips, I regret it.

He curls his fingers around my throat, slamming my head against the seat. “You must enjoy being gagged, don’t you?”