T. A. Chase

Angel’s Seduction-Part Eleven

Angel’s Seduction copyright (c)2006 T.A. Chase

Part Eleven-

I think I fell asleep on the ride to Greyson’s home. The last thing I remember is the warmth of his body and the soothing touch of his hands.

Sounds penetrate my sleep. I fight to keep from opening my eyes. I don’t want to return to the nightmare of my reality. I’m afraid last night is part of a fevered dream. As much as I fight, the voices are pulling me back into the waking world.

“I think we should have the doctor come and check him.” My uncle’s voice makes its way into my mind.

“There’s nothing wrong with him that relaxation and being away from Williamson won’t fix.” The duke sounds firm as if he really does understand my problems.

I betray my conscious state by stretching my legs. Two shadows fall over me as I open my eyes.

Greyson settles on the bed, his knee presses to my side. Relief shines in his eyes. “You’re safe.”

His words comfort me even though I didn’t know I waited to hear them.

“How long?” Once again I’m reduced to simple words around him. He must think me slow, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Most of the day. I think last night strained your nerves.” His fingers caress my cheek.

“My life.” Nothing else makes its way past the lump in my throat.

“You’re right. Your life has been a bit of a strain, but no more. You’re safe and away from that bastard. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

The conviction in his voice touches me. Yet I know the truth. Staring over the duke’s shoulder, I see that my uncle knows the truth as well. My father will do anything to recapture me and cage me again. It matters little to him that Greyson is a duke. My father will try to destroy this man while risking the wrath of kings, princes and prime ministers.

“Won’t give up.” My heart races. I don’t want to bring sorrow or pain to this man.

I could no more hurt this man than I could deliberately rip wings off butterflies. My blue-eyed god is the only person ever to look at me and see my soul.

“Good for you. Giving up would only allow your father to win.” Greyson reaches for a glass resting on the nightstand.

Slipping his arm around my shoulders, he helps me sit up. I’m engulfed by his scent. An intriguing mixture of sweat, whisky and earth. I bury my face against his neck and breath deep. Am I trying to memorize the smell? Will remembering it sustain me when I return to my prison?

“Drink this.” He pulls back and places the glass to my lips.

I shake my head. I’ve drugged too many times to trust a simple glass of water.

“Trust me, Angel. It is only water. I’ll never lie to you.” His lips brush my ear.

This time I don’t search my uncle’s face. I study the duke’s. The expression I see is one I believe no one else has been granted. I drink the water.

He helps me lie back down, but doesn’t move from my side. Uncle clears his throat.

“What he means, your grace, is my brother won’t give up. He’ll do whatever he must to reclaim the boy.”

Greyson frowns. “Why?”

“I’m his.” Those two words tell the truth of my father’s feelings towards me. He hates and loathes me. He would gladly kill me if he could. I embarrass him, but I carry his name and for that reason alone, I am his.

“My brother is a possessive man. He will never allow his son to exist outside his control.”

“Madness.” The duke trembles, but whether from anger or fear, I don’t know.

“Yes it is but he has always been this way. So you must be careful, Greyson, if you mean to shelter the lad. His father can be a formidable foe.”

I close my eyes. The conversation doesn’t interest me. Maybe it’s because deep inside I don’t believe I’ll ever be free of my father. I carry the scars of his hatred with me on my back. They link me to him in the most primal way possible: life and death.

It is his seed that gives me life and it will be his hand that brings me death.

Darkness begins to fill my mind. I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of worrying. Tired of yearning for love and running from it as well. My last thought as I drift to sleep is I’m just tired of living.

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