Midnight Eyes, Brophy, Sarah [love story books to read txt] 📗

wet warmth, let his seed find a place in you. You’re a whore,” he spat out angrily.

The next blow brought her to her knees, but he couldn’t stop the laugh of triumph that boiled inside her. “You lose!” She threw back her head, and tears streamed down her face. “You lose because you thought everyone was a twisted half human like you, incapable of real emotions. You actually thought you could bring another person into your game and not lose control.”

She slowly got back to her feet. “But you did. You lost control at that moment, didn’t you? Robert wasn’t what you thought he was, was he?” She spread her arms wide tauntingly. “He had me, and I welcomed him. He came into my life and gave me back all of the laughter and light you had taken away from me. And, you know, the funny thing is, because of you I was almost too blind to see his goodness. Can you believe it? I almost let it slip through my fingers because you had destroyed my ability to recognize love. Almost.”

Her laughter rang out.

“In the end, however, he is stronger than you. You are nothing compared to him. So, yes, I let him into my body; yes, I loved him with all my heart and soul and strength. And you know what that means, don’t you? No matter what you do, I win.” The smile on her face was radiant. “I win because despite you I have loved and been loved in return.”

This time the blow knocked her to the ground, her head hitting a rock and stunning her.

“Don’t believe that for a moment, bitch,” he spat out, and aimed a furious kick at her prone body. “A baby is an easy enough thing to remove and once it’s gone, you will soon forget these futile notions of love. I won’t let that bastard’s spawn survive long. Your body is mine, will be mine again. That I can promise.”

He turned from her dismissively with an angry curse and she rolled herself into a protective fetal position, listening in silence as he started a fire and boiled the salted meat he had brought with them. He didn’t give her any when it was prepared, but began to eat with a noisy relish. Imogen didn’t care, too full of the truth she had yelled at him.

She had won. Despite all of Roger’s dark games she had managed to become a complete human, capable of love, not just a pawn in his twisted rituals and desires.

She truly had won.

Robert’s knees cracked as he knelt down to feel the ashes, their coldness mocking him. Damn! He was no closer to catching up to them than he had been yesterday; or the day before, or the day before that.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, Roger continued to remain ahead of him because he was not slowed by the need to track down his quarry. Robert was hunting them, using all of his skill and experience to follow them as they traveled slowly north, but that very hunting was slowing him down and every day that passed was another day Imogen spent living her worst nightmare.

Visions of just what Imogen might be suffering rose to torment him yet again. He clenched his hands in impotent rage and stood up quickly. He couldn’t let his anger consume him, not now, when Imogen needed him and all the skill he could muster.

He carefully submerged all emotion and cast an expert eye over the camp. They still had to be at least a day ahead of him, but with two people on one horse they weren’t moving as fast as he could if only he knew for certain where they were heading.

Though there was no sign of it, there was now no doubt in Robert’s mind as to their intended destination. It was only an unprovable gut instinct, but he was certain they were heading to Shadowsend, heading for the tower Roger had built all those years ago for just this purpose.

Years of hard-learned experience wouldn’t let him rely on instinct alone, but with each mile farther north, his certainty grew. He knew enough about Roger, from the little Imogen had revealed, to know that for Roger, rituals were important. Things had to happen in a certain way for him to enjoy them to their full. Roger wanted it this way, had been living for this moment for years.

But Robert couldn’t let what he thought he knew lead him astray.

He ground his teeth in frustration and was turning to mount his horse when something else caught his eye, a small detail he had almost overlooked. Written in the dust were signs of a physical struggle. A body had fallen to the ground while someone else stood by, a small dark spot, evidence enough that some blood had been spilt.

Imogen’s blood.

Robert’s teeth clenched and a muscle started to twitch in his cheek.

There was a cold purity to the anger that burned to life inside him, that turned to dust the last of his doubts. He climbed on to the horse’s back and galloped away from the scene of Imogen’s humiliation, not once looking back.

He was done with following. If he stopped trying to second-guess himself he could get to the tower before them.

Then he would wait.

The rational part of his brain warned him that if he was wrong, if Roger wasn’t heading to the tower, then Imogen would be lost. But he chose not to listen. It was time to put complete trust in his instincts. They alone would get him what he wanted most in the world: Roger Colebrook’s blood all over his hands. Never before had he ever been so grateful for his ability to inflict death. It made all of those dark years of the sword worthwhile.

He ignored the pressure he felt building behind his eyes and the thickening of his throat as he thought of Imogen. There would be time enough for emotions later.

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