Page 144 of Born for Silk
“What does he want the babies for?” I find myself asking, quiet, my pulse nesting in my throat.
“For The Trade, of course.”
“I think that is enough stories for the night,” the queen says, yawning softly. “Aster. Go sit?—”
“Your eyes…” The woman’s voice is a soft gasp, still staring at me, strange and intense. “Violet. You—” Her eyes veer over my shoulder to sleeping Rome, then return to me. “Are you allergic to anything, Silk Girl?”
I clench my teeth, everything tensing.
How does she…? No. I will not answer. Will not play along.
I lift my chin. “Are you trying to frighten me? Is this a trick?”
“Aster needs to sleep.” Tuscany stands. “Aster, please, go sit with Sire. Sit with Rome. I will sit with Ana on my lap.”
As I slide Ana from my thighs, my shuddering pulse making it hard to breathe and not bolt away, the girl stands at the same time.
“Wait. I asked him to take her…” Her voice is haunting. “I never knew it was his plan all along.”
All the girls are quiet now.
Tuscany tries to find words.
I walk away from her, a sick feeling rushing through my entire body as images and stories whirl through my psyche.
Fur Born girl.
Mother ran away…
‘She was an exceptional breeder, after all, The Trade invested much time and resources in her. Unfortunately her babes were not born for The Cradle but for a Fur community. You were one of those babes. We got you back.’
I grip the bench, steady myself.
“Little creature?”
Rome is awake, rising to his feet, but his eyes are no longer on me, for the first time, in weeks, his eyes are not where he promised they would always be. They are on her.
Dark and disturbing.
I glance between the woman and Rome, reading the significant message. The truth attacks me, and not a single one of my billion heart cells avoid the dreadful blow.
They know each other— Rome and the woman. The story is true… Is he the half eagle? Am I one of the babies?
“Is it her?” The woman’s chest rises and falls, the air seemingly as heavy as her question. “Is that my baby sister?”
No. No.
My molars saw together.
Stop. Stop.
Rome holds his hand out for me while his eyes plunge hatred into her. “Come here, little creature. Come stand by my side.” His deep timbre is like ice, cold and hard, and one punch away from shattering.
The woman swallows. “How many babies have you taken over the years? Hundreds?”
“Odette.” Han raises his hands, shock and confusion drawing his brows to his hairline. “What are you doing? Sire”—he looks at Rome— “she means no disrespect?—”
Suddenly, two shots of a gun ricochet outside the church walls, the girls drop to the floor between benches, whimpers rush along the ground, and Rome’s head snaps to the door.