Broken (The Captive #5.5)(80)

I refuse to have to go through another relationship with another woman though or worse yet listen to what she has to say. It is bad enough with Anna, whom I rarely see, but at least when I do see her I know what inane gossip, fashion, and travel conversation I will have to suffer through. Therefore, I will keep up this sham of a happy marriage for as long as it takes for my plan to come to completion.

Until then, I will continue to pretend. I am the master of it after all.

I'll be returning to the Crusades within the month, it's where I can be free. For now though I suppose I will play the role of father.

***

Atticus stared down at the squirming bundle within his arms. The boy, Braith, he reminded himself, had his black hair and his mother's oddly colored, yet striking eyes. Eyes that were focused raptly on him as he walked from one side of the room to the other with the baby. He was surprised to realize that he'd actually believed he might grow to feel something for the child, his child. Even if it was part hers there was a piece of him within this baby. Shouldn't he be reacting to that, shouldn't he care in some small way?

Instead, the emptiness within him grew with every step and just like the night he had first lain with Anna, he felt a growing madness escalating within him. It seemed that each event in his life that moved him further away from Genny, the more the insanity took hold of his mind. Knowing that he required this child for his future plans, he turned and thrust the baby into the nurse's arms before he did something to the boy that would destroy everything he had been working for.

The woman, startled by the abrupt gesture, fumbled to keep hold of the child. Atticus spun away and left the room before he destroyed everyone within it. He had to get back to the desert and the freedom it gave to him. Striding down the hall, he thrust open the door to his rooms. He'd been planning to escape the villa, but it seemed fate had other plans for him when he spotted Merle alone in his private solar, standing by the balcony overlooking the beach. His cousin turned toward him and smiled invitingly as he opened his arms to him.

"My but you're a sight for sore eyes!" Merle greeted cheerfully. Atticus gave him a brisk hug before stepping away. "I hear congratulations are finally in order! And a boy!"

"A boy," Atticus confirmed. He moved further away from his cousin to pour himself a goblet of blood.

"And his name is?"

"Braith."

"Interesting."

"She chose it," he said before downing the contents of the goblet.

The smile slid from Merle's face. It had been nearly fifty years since he'd seen his cousin; their lives had taken them on completely different paths. Merle lived the easy life in Spain with his wife while he enjoyed the massacre of the sand.

"I thought this would make you happy," Merle said quietly.

Atticus's eyes slid sideways toward him, his hand clenched upon the gold goblet, causing it to bend within his grasp. "Happy!" he barked as his fa?ade cracked. "It had to be done! That does not mean I am happy about it."

Merle's eyes widened, he stood for a moment before walking over to pull out a chair. He dropped the blade at his waist onto the table and slumped onto the chair. "I'd hoped you had found some happiness in your life since we last saw one another."

Atticus tossed aside the ruined goblet and brought another one forth. He cursed himself for having let so much of himself show, he'd worked relentlessly to keep up the charade that was his life. The birth of his son and seeing Merle again had rattled him in perilous ways. He couldn't allow it to all fall apart now. Regaining control of himself, he poured himself another goblet of blood.

"Would you like some?" he inquired not bothering to respond to Merle's statement. Merle waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. Atticus walked over and sat across from him. "How have things been with you?"

"Fine enough," Merle responded though his eyes remained troubled as he watched Atticus. "Jane miscarried again three months ago. I think she's had enough of trying and so have I. That was the sixteenth child we've lost, a boy this time. I don't think it was meant for us to have offspring."

"Do you plan to end it with her and marry another?" Atticus inquired.

Merle shrugged. "Things are convenient for us now but I suppose I'll eventually have to take another if she can't produce an heir."

"Do you have any bastards?"

"I'd lay wager that there are a few of them running around out there, none that I'm aware of or have acknowledged though." Atticus nodded and sipped at his blood. "How is it in the land of the sun?"

"I am kept busy," he murmured as his gaze drifted toward the darkening sky outside the balcony doors.

"Do you plan to return to the war now that you have a son here?"

"I'll return to the desert within the month. What brings you here?"

"The Council meeting is next week. I thought I would take a detour on my way to Transylvania to see how you have been and to congratulate you." Merle had been granted his own place on The Council when a young noble from the House of Herstin died unexpectedly in a fire. The noble had been the last of his line and they'd needed someone to step forward to take his place.

"I'd forgotten," Atticus admitted.

It had been years since he'd attended one of The Council meetings. It wasn't required of him while he was battling to keep their lands safe and the vampires within the desert under control. The population of vampires amongst the Crusades was swelling but most behaved themselves, far better than he did. In the beginning he'd come back for every Council meeting, but he'd soon realized that being the war hero, and the only one amongst them with actual battle experience, had elevated him in The Council's eyes far more than his attending every meeting ever would. He was battle hardened, he protected their wealth, and he carried out their laws without hesitation. Messengers carried back his feats to The Council and relayed Council details to him. That was good enough for him. He came back here twice a year, for two weeks to visit with his wife, but that was the only time he spent outside of the desert.