Broken (The Captive #5.5)(14)

All he wanted was to get even further away from her though as she leaned over him. Her ample cleavage was almost on full display in her low cut dress. The smile that had been on her face fell away when his upper lip curled into a sneer. Merle chuckled as she recoiled and hurried away to place Merle's glass before him.

"I don't think he likes you dear," he said and patted her on the rear.

She smiled at him but her gaze fell nervously back on Atticus. "Leave us," his father commanded crisply.

The woman scurried out the door like a kicked dog. "There has been a decision made about the king," his father said.

"Oh and who is the newest sacrificial lamb?" Atticus inquired sardonically and took a sip of the sweet, red wine.

His father's eyes focused on him and for a split second Atticus had the unsettling notion that it was going to be him. He was too young, even with his bloodline there was no way that all of the aristocrats would have agreed to appoint him to such a position, not yet anyway. His father's eyes narrowed over the bridge of his hawk-like nose. His was the face of an aristocrat with its sharp angles and high cheekbones. Atticus saw very little of himself in his father's face; he had taken after his mother with his hair coloring and eyes, even his facial structure had been more similar to his mother's softer bone structure than his father's.

Across the way, his uncle shifted in his seat, drawing Atticus's eyes to him. Even though five years separated them, his uncle and father looked enough alike that they could be mistaken for twins. His uncle's mouth was fuller than his father's, his eyes were hazel instead of brown, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance between them. Merle's coloring was more like his mother's with his blond hair and dark blue eyes, but his features were very much his father's.

"There will no longer be a king."

Atticus almost choked on his wine at his father's words. Merle's feet dropped onto the ground, his pretense at indifference vanished as he sat straight up in his chair. His eyes were questioning as they shot to Atticus but he didn't speak. "Who will lead us then?" Atticus inquired.

"We will be forming a council. The Council will govern over the vampires, laydown the laws, and make sure that they are carried out."

"Who will be on The Council?" Merle asked.

"The eldest of each of the noble bloodlines will make up the sitting Council." He knew it wouldn't matter if the eldest were male or female. Women had more restrictions placed on them than the men in their world, but nowhere near as many as the human women had placed on them. Vampire women were required to be faithful in a marriage until an heir was produced, but other than that they were considered equals and allowed the same freedoms. Sex didn't matter to vampires; the thing that mattered most amongst them was age. With age came power and that power would be key to any member of The Council. "It is time to put an end to the fighting before we all destroy each other. No one is willing to be king at this time," his father continued.

Atticus didn't blame any of the aristocrats for being unwilling to step up as he took another sip of his wine; he sure wouldn't want the position. The king had to look over his shoulder at all times, had to worry that everyone was out to get him. And if history was any indication, everyone was out to get them. That was no way to live.

"How many members will that be in total then?" Merle inquired.

"Fifty."

"And everyone on The Council will get an equal say?" Atticus inquired.

"Yes."

"That should solve everyone's problems then," he murmured.

"The Council meetings will take place four times a year. The first one will take place in London." That unsettling feeling was starting to fill the pit of his stomach again. "We leave tomorrow at daybreak."

There it was, what he'd been dreading all along. "Well I hope you have a good trip." He knew full well that it wouldn't be that easy, but he was hoping that somehow he would be able to avoid this trip. Even Merle gave him a look that clearly stated, good try but that is never going to happen, as a snort of laughter escaped him.

"You will be coming with us," his father stated flatly, not at all amused by his attempt to avoid going. "You're no longer going to be allowed to shirk your responsibilities. I've allowed you too much freedom these past few years but it's time to step up now and take responsibility."

His jaw clenched as resentment slid sinuously through him. Thoughts of Genny flooded his mind; his hands fisted, he had to fight the urge to smash them onto the table and refuse to go. There was no choice in this matter though, there never had been, not for him. He'd been born into this life and though he'd had the luxury of wealth and privilege, he'd never had any freedom to make his own choices.

"How long?" he grated through clenched teeth.

"A week, two at most," his father replied casually.

Atticus almost jumped up from his chair; his hands remained clenched in his lap as he forced himself to remain calm. He was supposed to accept this. If it had been just days ago he still wouldn't have liked the idea of going, but he also wouldn't have felt like bashing the table to pieces with his bare hands. As he forced his hands to unclench all he could think about, all he could remember was the smell of asters clinging to Genny's skin.

What was wrong with him? He'd known the woman for two days but he couldn't shake her from his system. Maybe the best thing that could happen was to get away from her for a couple of weeks, get his head together. Even as he thought it, he had to fight the urge to go back into the woods to find her. To tell her he was leaving but he would be coming back. But she wouldn't be in the woods right now and to hunt her down at her house could only frighten her away. He wasn't sure he would blame her if it did. Besides he wasn't about to start chasing after a woman he barely knew; he would see her when he returned.