Page 79 of Serpent & Saviors

The walls were paneled with rich, dark wood, and the floors were magnificent. We came across another man, distinguished and impeccably groomed, standing tall and proud in a traditional black-and white butler uniform. He looked confused as he stared at Ivan, holding Declan.

“Branson, we have guests, they’ll be staying for…” Ivan said and then paused before adding, “indefinitely. Please let the staff know and if you could be so kind as to ensure that they’re in the same wing, that’d be great. In fact, let’s set her up in Kinsley’s old room. She’s not using it anymore. Their things are in the car. I’ll take her there now.”

“Of course, Master Ivan,” he replied.

I once more had to jog to keep up with him. He led me through the maze of the house, and I quickly became lost. When he stopped in front of the door, I took a deep breath. Part of me was so thankful it was late. I guess I wouldn’t be meeting Kinsley this evening. My head snapped up as Branson came toward us, pulling a suitcase I’d never seen before and one of Declan’s. He had two maids in tow with him.

“Andrew will be a while, I’d say. You should get some rest. Welcome home, buttercup,” he said as Branson casually opened the door. Ivan took Declan inside.

He made his way over to the huge four-poster bed. The room was stunning, giving maybe a hint of the grace and sophistication Kinsley must have. It seemed slightly at odds with her seemingly childish behavior. Okay, that probably wasn’t fair. Her calling and demanding to know what her man was doing was completely justified.

I shook my head. I guess I somehow expected obnoxious shades of purple and stuffed animals, maybe a kitten or three. Instead, the walls were a soothing shade of pastel blue, reminiscent of clear skies. Ornate, white trimmed molding framed the room. One wall had the prettiest, delicate floral wallpaper. My eyes danced over the bed as Declan was laid down on the comforter.

The bedding was crisp and white, neatly arranged with an abundance of plush pillows in varying shades of blue, and there it was—lavender. The array reminded me of a blooming garden. The giant shoved them off the bed. A gleaming antique vanity stood by the window, its mirror framed in an intricate, gilded pattern. An intricately detailed chandelier hung above the bed.

There was a huge, cozy looking armchair draped with a lavender and lace throw. It was the perfect reading or writing chair. The floors were a beautiful hardwood. The curtains had the same delicate floral pattern. Ivan stood there, looking out of place in this supremely feminine room. I took it all in and jumped when he spoke.

“I’ll leave you now. If you’d like something to eat, I can have Mrs. Patterson—”

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine,” I said.

He nodded and took his leave. The maids whispered as they hurriedly put things away. They kept stealing glances at me, and I shrank away, declaring myself out of place here. They left shortly after they’d put everything away. I stood for several minutes, just listening to the quietness surrounding me.

My throat hurt from where Cameron choked me before dunking me under the water. I probably looked like a mess. Walking over to the other door, I found the bathroom. It was opulent with marble walls, countertops, and gleaming brass fixtures. A whirlpool bathtub stood, beckoning me. I moved on autopilot, ignoring the image in the mirror.

I gingerly walked, feeling every one of my sore muscles protesting. I turned the water on and adjusted the temperature before closing the drain. I closed my eyes as exhaustion set in. The roar of the water filling the tub echoed off the walls, and my thoughts trailed off once more.

The guys agreed to give me the night and the moment I walked through the door, I was moving fast. My pulse hadn’t come down since earlier, and I was wired. Every sound in the house felt amplified and sharp. The creek of the floorboards, the thud of my shoes against the stairs matched my chaotic energy.

I didn’t bother with lights. The hall blurred in fragments. I needed to see her, touch her, and know she was okay. I still couldn’t get the image out of my head of being drowned by that asshole.

The moment I reached the door, I paused outside to catch my breath. A sudden stillness overcame me as I stepped into Kinsley’s old room. My breath caught in my throat. The sound of running water snapped my head toward the bathroom door.

I walked toward the sound and had to pass the bed. The soft, muted light of the room revealed the small form of a child. I froze. Blonde spikes and the most innocent little face peaked out from the duvet. Asleep in the enormous bed was my son.

He lay there, small and vulnerable, cocooned in warmth and safety. Tucked under his arm was a worn teddy bear. His tousled hair was just like his mama’s. His features, even in sleep, stole my very breath. I approached cautiously to get a better look at him.

Would he have his mother’s eyes or mine?

He looked just like me. There was no denying it. Long lashes fanned out like tiny feathers against his smooth cheeks. His brow furrowed and then evened back out. A soft sigh greeted my ears as he sank back into the blissful oblivion of sleep. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming rush of emotions—awe, joy, pride, and a profound sense of responsibility.

This was my flesh and blood.

A surge of love and protectiveness hit me unlike anything I’d ever known could exist. It was one thing to know others felt that emotion, but to experience it firsthand was wildly different. I gazed at the sleeping child, the one I said I never wanted and wanted to kick myself for my stupidity.

I vowed to spend the rest of my days ensuring that he would never know the pain and darkness that his mother endured. I’d erase every one of Cameron’s memories from his mind. My son deserved a world of love, security, hope, and acceptance. He would find all that, and more, here with all of us.

With a heart full of newfound purpose and love, I drew even closer. Careful not to disturb him, I leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“My son,” I whispered in awe.

Outside the little breathy sounds coming from the sleeping child, silence pressed in around me, thick and unreal. For a second, I just stood, trying to breathe through the rush of relief and the lingering fear tangled in my chest. I needed to see the woman who had made me a father. Straightening, I forced myself upright and crossed the distance to the bathroom door.

The knob was cool beneath my hand as I twisted it and pushed the door open. She stood there, deep in thought, more than likely disassociating from the day’s events. She wore nothing but a towel.

The sight of her stopped me cold. Her left eye had nearly closed, the surrounding skin puffed and discolored. There were angry shades of violet and blue bleeding into the pale of her check. Every bit screamed of the pain she endured.

Handprint marks marred the flesh around her throat, and I wished I would have killed him right then and there. Instead, he sat safely in a jail cell, at least for the moment. Seeing her beaten only made me more determined to ensure his death was slow and as painful as I could make it.