Chapter 22
“Impossible,” Richard says, closing his eyes and inhaling.
“What’s impossible?” I demand. “That I’ll fight you and win? I assure you it’s more than possible. Evil never wins, Richard. Good will always triumph.”
I wish I believed those words as emphatically as I say them. Because in truth, good doesn’t always win. Evil triumphed over my mother, and she was as good a soul as was ever born. But she was weak. Weak from what my father did to her. Weak and ripe for Richard’s evil charm.
“No. It can’t be.” Richard inhales sharply again. “You said Rogan belongs to something of yours…” He inhales again. “You… You’re pregnant, you fucking slut.”
Fuck.
That’s what he meant when he said “impossible.”
Not like I was hiding it. I did say that. It’s not a damned secret.
What irks me more is the slut shaming. I hate that anything he says affects me, but he decided long ago who and what I was, and then he convinced my mother it was true.
It was never true. It still isn’t.
But still…
Still the anger quickens in me. Rage races along my spine.
No!
I can’t let him get to me. I can’t. I must think of my child. Of Rogan’s child.
“It never gets old, does it?” I chide. “Calling me a slut.”
“I call them as I see them.”
“You never saw me, Richard. You never knew me. I was a thorn in your side from day one, and you did everything you could to turn my own mother against me.”
He lifts a thin eyebrow. “Seems I was successful.”
“In the short term, yes. But not in the long term. She’s beginning to see you for who and what you are. Manipulative. Disgusting. Evil.”
He scoffs. “And now you’re blessing her with some kind of mutant hybrid for a grandchild. She’ll love you for that.”
My heartbeat increases, and adrenaline spikes through me. My jaw tightens, and I clench my fists. A searing pain surges through my belly, but I ignore it, remain upright.
My vision blurs. Everything around me—Richard’s lair—is nothing but haze as I focus my gaze solely on his wrinkled face, his evil smile.
I breathe in.
The pain.
The baby.
I can’t let him affect my baby.
Evil exudes from this man, as if black snakes are slithering inside him.
“My mother will love this child,” I say with defiance.
He sneers. “Like she loved you?”
All sense flees my body. In a black rage, I rush toward my stepfather. His leg appears injured, and he’s lying in a bed of ash.
And he’s mine. He’s mine to dispose of. The world will be a better place without him. My mother will be a better person without him.
God knows I’ll have a better life without him.
I take even steps, breathing in and out, calming my nerves to protect my child, but at the same time allowing my adrenaline to do its job, to increase my strength. Then I allow my thoughts to do the rest.
My thoughts…
My history…
The day my mother forsook Larissa and me for this bastard.
This demon.
My mother, though hurt by my father, used to be a loving parent.
Always ready with a hug when I needed one.
Always ready with a kind word. But all that changed when Richard entered our lives.
At first I tried to be understanding, to welcome him into our family with an open heart.
I wanted my mother to be happy, after all.
She, of all people, deserved happiness after what my father did to her.
But something shifted, something dark and insidious. He started to manipulate her, twisting her perception of me, casting doubt where there wasn’t any. I didn’t know demons existed at that time. I didn’t know I was half vampire.
But he knew.
He always fucking knew.
All he’s said and done burns like a fire inside me. He took advantage of a broken woman and turned a loving mother against her own flesh and blood. Her own children.
The pain was unbearable then. The loss of my mother. How her new husband hated me.
I left as soon as I could, yet here I am, faced with the evil demon once more.
This is my fate.
I may not be Rogan’s fated mate, but my fate is tied to this man. This demon.
And it’s time to end it. For my mother, my sister, my unborn child.
For Rogan.
And for me.
My fangs snap down as I growl and close the distance between my stepfather and me.
Demon blood.
I’ve never tasted demon blood.
It whooshes through his veins, the sound like a high-pitched siren.
But I feel no craving for it. My child is still sated with Dominic’s blood for now.
Richard is injured. Easy prey.
With one more step, I lunge.