Broken (The Captive #5.5)(77)

Atticus took off his mantle and dropped it over the chair beside his desk table. His gaze drifted to the quill and parchment sitting there, waiting for him. This was the only time of the day when he actually felt any kind of excitement, the only time he looked forward to. When he sat down to write it was almost as if he were talking to Genny again. Almost as if she was standing behind him, with her hands on his shoulders and laughing as he kept his words hidden from her, just as she had done to him.

Before he wrote though, he read over her words again. Not all of them at once, like he had on the ship. Now he liked to savor them, to read over her life one week at a time, especially the laughter and happiness at the end of her life. His hand fell to the pocket he'd had sewn inside all of his inner tunics. He pressed the ring against his chest, where his heart would have beat if he'd been human. The press of the cool metal gave him a brief moment of relief from the suffering and turmoil that he lived with every day.

The scent of lilacs assailed him; annoyance shimmered through him as his head turned toward where Anna stood in the doorway. This was his time with Genny and she was intruding upon it. His teeth ground together so fiercely that he thought they might shatter. It took everything he had not to storm over to her, shove her out of the room and slam the door in her face.

Instead, he forced a smile to his face, one that seemed grim to him but she returned it. "I want to thank you… for these months," she elaborated when he remained immobile before her.

"You're welcome."

"I've enjoyed getting to know you better." He didn't know where this was going but a queasy feeling began to churn in his stomach. "And I think… I think I am ready now."

Fire burned in her cheeks before she ducked her head away. Atticus became as still as stone while he stared at her. She was even more beautiful when she was blushing, any man in the world would have been falling all over themselves to get at her. Instead of being turned on, he was as repulsed as he would have been if a thousand maggots were crawling over his flesh.

"I'd like you to come to my bed," she continued when he didn't speak.

That sensation of bugs sliding over his skin increased. "Are you sure?" he managed to get out.

Her blush intensified, it slid down her neck and burned over her arms. "I am."

Every nerve ending was screaming no at him but he found himself saying, "I'll be there in a minute."

He waited until the door between their rooms closed before he turned away and downed the goblet of blood on his desk. His hand wrapped around the ring in his shirt as he strived to gain control of his riotous emotions. He'd known that one day he would have to face this but he still had no idea how he was physically going to get through it. He couldn't picture Genny while he was with Anna; that would be like desecrating her memory and everything they had shared together. But when he thought of anyone else, everything within him seemed to shrivel up like a worm left out to bake in the sun.

There was no way he could put it off though; no way he could deny her. As of now, she thought he stayed away because of her feelings, if she realized it was because he didn't want to be with her, the gossip would start. It would be one thing if he favored men, everyone would already know that. He'd still be expected to produce an heir, but they would understand she wasn't his preference.

They all knew he liked women though. He'd never had a problem being with any of the women within the clubs, the serving women, or the noble women that had come to his bed. If he didn't do this, they would think him less of a man, unable to lead, weak. The alliances he was building, the power he had gained by marrying Anna in the first place would all be for naught.

He had to get through this, somehow. Reaching into his pocket, he removed the ring from his possession for the first time since he'd exchanged it with Genny. He could not bear to have it in the same room with him and Anna if they were to become intimate. His fingers lingered on the band as he placed it on the desk and turned toward the door. He felt like he was facing his execution but he walked into her bedroom.

***

Atticus snatched the ring off the desk and slid it on before bolting across the room and leaping off of the balcony that overlooked the rocks and ocean below. He half hoped he'd end up smashed against those rocks but he knew fate would never be so kind to him. The air rushed up around him, it whipped at his hair and tore at the clothes he had tugged back on when he'd finished with Anna. He welcomed the pain as it stung his skin but it wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough to drown out the anguish inside of him.

His arms were down at his sides when his feet plunged into the water below. The briny ocean rushed into his mouth and up his nose. It plummeted over his head and beat against his body. He allowed himself to be caught up in the waves, allowed them to pound and ruthlessly batter against him.

Keeping his eyes open, he watched as the murky waves rolled over top of him, spinning him around as they pushed and pulled him about. He didn't fight against them, didn't try to get back to the surface of the water. The sea would decide where he would end up, he didn't have to breathe, and right now all he wanted was to be beaten and pummeled by the ocean.

He was spun around so that he caught a brief glimpse of the blurry moon shining in the sky through the water above his head. His feet caught on something, his bare toes curled into the sand as he realized that the waves had carried him to shore. His head popped out of the salty water; he stared up at a sky that was clear without the tumultuous ocean to obscure the view.