Chapter 5

I was frozen to the spot. My world shattered.

A low, satisfied moan came from the room.

"Ah... yes, right there... Dorian... a little deeper... for our child..."

Her voice was a poison-laced whip, lashing my soul with every word.

Through the crack, I saw her place her own hand over Dorian's, guiding his movements.

The smile on her face was pure cruelty.

And her eyes, burning with lust, never left the crack in the door. They were fixed on me.

Dorian was silent. He said nothing. The rigid line of his back was the only sign of the agony he was in.

But he didn't stop.

The hands that had once cherished every inch of my skin were now inside another woman. Forging a path for a child that wasn't ours.

I couldn't breathe. I turned and ran, stumbling from the castle like a wounded animal.

The blizzard hit me full force, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart.

The snowflakes felt like razors on my face, but I was already numb.

My heart was dead.

The memory of a night three years ago surfaced.

The first time we'd made love, Dorian had cradled my face, his eyes full of devotion.

"Do you know, Freya?" he'd whispered, kissing my lips. "You will be my one and only, for all eternity."

"I don't care that you're a werewolf. I don't care what the world thinks." His fingers intertwined with mine. "I only care about you."

"Do you swear it?" I had asked him.

"I swear it," he had promised, the power of our blood bond sealing the words. "For all my life, you are my only love."

My one and only. My eternity. Such beautiful, poisonous lies.

I walked in the blizzard until I couldn't feel my feet.

Only when the castle lights began to go out, deep in the night, did I return to my room like a ghost.

I was soaked through. The combination of silver poison and frostbite sent shivers through my body.

Sometime after midnight, the fever hit me like a tidal wave. I was burning from the inside out, my consciousness fraying at the edges.

Just then, a low humming drifted from the master bedroom next door.

It was the ancient vampire lullaby. Gentle and full of love.

I was instantly wide awake.

That song. It was the one Dorian had promised to sing to our child.

"When we have a baby," he'd said, holding me, "I'll sing this song to them every night."

Now, he was singing it for someone else's child.

Tears streamed down my face, evaporating in the heat of my fever.

Sometime later, the door creaked open.

"Freya?" Dorian's voice came from the doorway.

I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be unconscious.

He walked over and placed a hand on my burning forehead.

"You're burning up..." he murmured, his voice laced with concern.

I thought he would stay and take care of me, like he used to.

But the next second, he stood up.

"Alfred!" he called the butler. "Have a servant bring Miss Freya some herbs. And whatever food she needs."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"And," his voice went flat, turning cold, "move her to the East Wing. I want her gone until she's recovered. Liliana is with child. She requires a... purified environment."

"Dorian..." I whispered, my eyes fluttering open.

"Rest up," he said without looking back. "We'll talk when you're better."

The door slammed shut. I heard the sound of a lock turning.

My tears fell again, hot and useless.

His vows to protect me were gone. All that was left was his fear that I would somehow harm his new family.

I was a prisoner.

For the next few days, for some reason, no one brought me food on time.

When a servant did come, they'd just toss a bowl of spoiled synthetic blood on the floor and leave.

No healing herbs. No healer. Not even clean water.

I'm a werewolf. What was I supposed to do with synthetic blood?

All I could do was listen to the sounds of their happy life next door.

Day one, I heard Liliana's tinkling laugh as she leaned against him.

Day two, I heard the clinking of silverware. They were having a nice dinner.

Day three, the sound that finally killed me.

"If it's a boy, what do you think of the name Lucian?" Liliana asked softly.

"Lucian?" Dorian's voice was thoughtful.

"'Light'," Liliana explained. "I want our son to bring light into our lives."

"Our son," Dorian repeated the words, his voice full of joy. "Lucian Valkyrie. I like the sound of that."

"Then it's decided," Liliana said happily. "Lucian. Our little prince."

Something inside me shattered. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten all the nights he’d held me, whispering that our son would be named Lucian.

I curled up on the bed, biting down hard on the blanket to keep from screaming.