“Meaning you.” Rowan folded his hands on the table in front of him. “And what happens if Lady Caroline does give him a son?”
Lord Killian took another sip of his wine as he eyed Rowan carefully. “We’ll worry about that when and if it happens.”
“I suppose you’ll want children.”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
Rowan sighed, looking away. “Maybe. Someday. But not right away.”
Lord Killian sat his glass down then leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “I expect to get you pregnant on your next heat which, according to your father, should be happening soon.”
Rowan cringed. He was not looking forward to spending his next heat with this man.
Lord Killian sighed. “Don’t look so dejected. It’s a long journey to Grayholm but there’s a lovely little Inn on the way. If you go into heat before we reach the manor we’ll stop there. The owner is a kind old woman who prepares the most delicious venison steaks, and the scenery is beautiful. It will be the perfect honey moon.”
Rowan forced a smile. Yes, the perfect Honeymoon. The only problem was the groom. He had to find some way to get out of this marriage, and soon. He only had two days left. Two days and his life of semi freedom and invisibility would be over. As bad as he had it in his father’s palace, he knew that life with Lord Killian would be worse. The man didn’t want a spouse that he could love and cherish. He wanted a personal sex slave that he could use and abuse. Something he could flaunt in front of others. Would he also be passed around between the Duke’s friends?
Rowan felt sick bile rise up into his throat. It took all of his strength not to vomit right there on the table. Fear suddenly had him in it’s icy grasp and he began to shiver. Folen, bless her soul, had placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm his nerves. If only she could work some of her fairy magic to whisk him away to some far off land where he’d be safe but, he knew she could not, and he would never ask that of her, as it would put her life in danger. Fairy magic was forbidden within Basmorte. The punishment if caught using it– death. Oh how he wished that he had even an ounce of fairy magic. He’d make himself disappear. Then and only then would he finally be free.
***
It was in early hours of morning. Most of the Palace still slept. A few servants were wake, making preparations for the morning. The kitchen staff being the most active as they worked to prepare the morning meal. No doubt Lord Killian would dine with his future father-in-law. Lady Caroline and Emilia would be there as well. It made no difference to him that Lord Killian had invited Rowan to breakfast. He was certain it was just another ploy to entice him to reconsider the Lords proposal.
Rowan had never taken breakfast with his father and he wasn’t about to start now, no matter what the King said. He’d do as he’d always done and eat in his room. What did it matter anyway? It’s not as though Rowan had any say in what happened to him. He was going to be forced into this marriage whether he agreed to it or not. As an omega he had no rights. He was owned by his father and after his wedding vows were spoken and his father officially gave him away, he would become the property of Lord Killian. Whatever semblance of freedom he appeared to have was a lie. He was little more than a slave and he was expected to bend to the will of his masters.
Fear of an unknown and precarious future made sleep impossible to obtain. Rowan had taken to pacing the floor of his apartments, trying to think of a way to escape his fate. Soon though, the confines of his rooms could no longer sate the growing dread in his heart. He needed some fresh air to clear his mind. Going to his wardrobe, he took an old, worn, house robe and wrapped it around himself, concealing the sleeping dress he wore beneath, then secured the robe with a belt. Next he slid his feet into a pair of brown, fur lined slippers, and after checking to make sure the halls were empty, snuck out of his rooms and into the dark corridor.
Not a sound could be heard save for the soft padding of his slippers against the stone floors. The palace was quiet as a tomb and yet, as Rowan walked, he had the distinct feeling that he was not alone. It was an eerie feeling, like he was being watched. With each step he took, that feeling of unease grew stronger. A trickle of fear crawled up his spine and his non-existent breath hitched. The heart that wasn’t supposed to beat suddenly fluttered, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. This uncanny sense of dread encompassed him, driving him forward as he quickened his pace.
Is this what humans felt, he wondered, being stalked by some supernatural beast? He could only imagine the kind of fear his kind elicited in humans. No wonder humans feared them so. To be faced with something so powerful and deadly and yet have no means with which to defend yourself. It must be terrifying. Rowan hated preying on the weak. Though many vampires kept human slaves to feed from, Rowan himself had never tasted human blood. He loathed the idea of it. He even found it difficult to drink the blood of animals. He did, of course, when necessary for survival, though he hated it.
Rowan had just turned the corner into a small alcove when he swore he caught the flutter of something dark out of the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath and focused his energy into the still and quiet darkness around him. The shadows began to swirl and ripple and he swiftly stepped into them, concealing himself within the darkness. He could only hold the illusion for so long. His energy was weak and he suddenly wished that he’d taken the swine blood Folen had offered him the previous day. No matter. He focused all of his energy into the illusory mist that surrounded him and waited for whatever or whoever was following him to pass by.
His stalker didn’t pass by him though. The moments ticked by as he waited. Then, strange movement caught his eye. The air around him seemed to flutter and then melt as though suddenly made fluid. It was like watching a curtain of rain appear out of nowhere forming a puddle of swirling rings on the floor. The first thing he saw emerge from the fluidic ripples was the flowing hem of someones skirts. Next to appear was a hand, then the arm attached. Soon the silhouette of a woman stepped forward. The phantom rain dripped from her body yet she was still dry. She turned and Rowan cringed at the woman standing before him. Emilia.
She wore a black, velvet, ball gown with a low cut bodice that was trimmed with black lace. Her ebony hair was woven into a pleated crown upon her head with two silken ringlets on either side of her head. Her blood red lips parted in a menacing smile and she spoke, softly, into the darkness.
“Impressive trick.” She crooned. “Any vampire can manipulate the elements, but only the most skilled can manipulate the shadows. Though, I suspect you’re using more than vampire guile to preform such a feat. Your magic reeks of fairy glam.” She sighed, looking around, trying to pin point Rowan’s location. “You might as well come out and face me.” She sneered, tapping her foot softly on the stone floor beneath her. “I can hear the hideous beating of your treacherous heart.”