Broken (The Captive #5.5)(6)

"Thank you," Genny said and took hold of the small creature.

She would have much preferred a human but it had been months since she'd fed from a human. When Camille finally became an adult vampire their plan was to travel to the continent. Years ago, before either of them were even born, Marie had fled France when she'd been discovered stealing from a man she'd been sleeping with at the time. Marie had barely escaped with her life and had refused to return to the continent since then.

Genny and Camille had agreed that the best place for them to escape Marie was France. There were vampire villages there, and they could integrate into one of them, but it would be safer for the both of them if they were able to sustain themselves on animal blood. Until they were safe somewhere she wasn't going to take any chance of being uncovered by humans. Marie would never follow them to France, or at least Genny didn't think she would, but she wasn't willing to take the chance that she might if she needed someone to take care of her. No matter what it took, Genny was going to do everything in her power to keep herself and Camille away from her mother's poisonous clutches.





CHAPTER 3


Atticus slung the heavy wool cloak around his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head as he stepped out of the manor and into the rain. The sound of the rainfall echoed in his ears as the mud from the dirt lane splashed up to stain the bottom of his boots. He didn't hate the English weather as much as Merle but even he was getting tired of this incessant rain and the mud that accompanied it.

He made his way toward the stable and threw back the hood of his cloak to shake the rain from it. The stable was nearly empty except for the young vampire boy feeding the horses. "I'd like to have my horse saddled."

The boy's eyes shot past him to the driving rain beyond the stable doors. "Yes milord."

Atticus turned to watch the rain as it beat against the ground and splashed water out of the puddles forming. It was crazy of him to go out in this weather but he couldn't bring himself to stay inside the manor for one more minute. Mainly because he was tired of listening to his father and his noble cohorts fight over who would rule next. What was making it exceedingly difficult to decide was that none of them seemed to covet the position of king, not anymore.

Merle had slipped away an hour ago with a serving girl and as soon as Atticus had found his chance, he'd also disappeared from the main hall. The stable boy led his horse over to him and handed him the reins. "Your horse milord."

Atticus took the reins from him, placed his foot into the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. He pulled the hood back over his head and nudged Drago into the rain. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't feel the cold drops of water against his skin as he led the animal down the road and into the woods. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get as far from his father and his politics as he could. His head had begun to pound as he'd listened to all of those men talk about who was the strongest, how much power they each had, and squabble about the possibility that they might have even a smidgen of that power taken away.

They're determination not to be the next king only increased his certainty that at least some, if not all of them, had gotten together to kill the last king. He wasn't entirely sure what the point of that would have been if none of them were vying for the throne now, but he had a feeling he'd find out over the next couple of weeks, hopefully not months. By then he'd be a prune if this rain continued and Merle might actually attempt to swim back to Italy if he was forced to keep his ship moored at the dock.

Merle already spent most of his nights on his ship, preferring to sleep on the vessel than at his father's manor. All he would need was the word to go and Merle would be throwing the lines off and sailing from here as quickly as possible. Atticus knew exactly how he felt, but he wasn't given the choice on where he could sleep. As his father liked to constantly remind him, even when there was a king on the throne, because of his pure bloodline Atticus was considered a prince amongst their kind, and princes didn't sleep on ships when they had newly built manors to reside in.

There were times he thoroughly enjoyed what his position in life offered him. He had plenty of money, lots of power and a bevy of women at his service. There were other times, like when his life choices were taken away from him, that he despised his social status and cursed his position. Being forced back to England and into the manor was one of those times.

He'd been so focused on his thoughts that he hadn't realized where he was until he entered the clearing where just yesterday he had met Genevieve and her sister. Pulling the hood back from his head, he wiped away the rain that had beaded across his brow and looked around the clearing. The trees glistened with water, the air held a misty quality to it as fog crept through the underbrush and stole across the ground like spirits drifting through a graveyard.

With the fog came the scent of mint and aster on the air. This wasn't where he had intended to come when he'd left the manor but something had drawn him here, or rather someone. He kicked his foot free of the stirrup and dismounted Drago as she stepped around the same large elm as yesterday. The hood of the deep red cloak she wore was pulled over her head but he could still make out her pale skin and the black hair that framed her face.

"Are you lost?" she inquired.

"Sometimes I think I am." Those weren't the words he'd meant to say, in fact he'd meant to laugh off her question, but now that the words were out of his mouth he realized just how true they actually were.