Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

I closed my eyes, drawing strength from his closeness. “Yes. He was one of my father’s friends—a man who divorced his first wife because he discovered she couldn’t have children, and who’d lost both his second wife and child after she'd suffered a major hemorrhage when she was five months pregnant. He was thirty-eight years old, Aiden. More than double my age.”

And, like my father, a disciplinarian. My father knew Clayton would keep me in line no matter what it took—be it by word, hand, or even magic. My mother had objected, but those objections had fallen strangely quiet on the eve of the marriage. It would have made no difference anyway. By that time, the agreement certificate—and my fate—had been signed, sealed, and delivered.

At the time, I’d felt stranded and horribly betrayed, but I couldn’t help but wonder now if I’d been the only one. I hadn’t sensed any sort of spell on my mother—and she was certainly a strong enough witch to have sensed and retaliated against any sort of effort to magically change her mind or mute her objections—but there were other ways to silence. Telepathy, for instance.

“Fuck, Liz, that's—” Aiden stopped and shook his head. “That a father could do that to his own daughter—wow.”

“Oh, that wasn't the worst of it.” I paused and swallowed heavily against the bitter taste of bile rising up my throat. “One of the conditions of the marriage contract was ensuring I was fertile and fully capable of carrying a child to term. I was sixteen years old. I'd only just started my period and hadn't even had sex yet. You can imagine what that did to me.”

“I'm surprised it didn't scare you off both men and sex for life.” His voice was grim and there was anger in his eyes. Deep anger. For me. For the child I'd been and what I'd been forced to endure.

And suddenly, all the doubts, all the fears, and the so very deep-seated reluctance to trust disappeared.

Because if the future I feared did come to pass—if my father and Clayton did come to this reservation to claim what they considered theirs—then Aiden would stand by my side, ready to go into battle for me.

Whether or not we were still together.

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. No matter what happened now, Belle and I were no longer alone.

And that made me want to cry all over again—but this time in utter happiness and relief rather than in fear and pain.

“Was there nothing you could do to stop this insanity?” he asked. “No one you could turn to?”

“No. My father is a man of power and influence—there are few who'd dare gainsay him.” My grandfather might have, but by that stage he was long dead.

Aiden hesitated, and then asked softly, “Was the marriage consummated?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, battling the wave of fear, horror, and pain that rose with those words. “Almost.”

Aiden didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. Not for several seconds. But his fury was so fierce that it flowed over me, through me, filling every breath with its heat.

“Belle?” he said eventually.

I swallowed heavily and nodded. “I was underpowered and she was a Sarr witch. No one understood our connection and they certainly had no respect for Belle, despite the fact she’s one of the strongest telepaths out there. And let me tell you, that night she was fierce.”

“I can imagine,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen her truly angry, but she still scares the fuck out of me.”

I laughed, but it came out a hiccup and ended as a half sob. Aiden quickly moved out of the chair, onto his knees in front of me, and pulled me close. I closed my eyes against the sting of tears and relaxed into his body, letting his warmth and strength batter away the worst of the memories.

“So how did you escape Canberra?” he asked eventually.

“I might be underpowered, but I'm not stupid.” My lips twisted, but there was little amusement in it. “And, thanks to my grandfather, I also had access to a rather large inheritance. Money really does talk, especially when you’re dealing with people who aren’t exactly law-abiding.”

But—now that I was actually thinking about it—the fact that I had been able to access the money at sixteen was rather unusual, as most trusts didn't mature until the recipient was either eighteen or even twenty-one. But perhaps my grandfather had had some inkling of the trouble headed my way and done his best to counter it. Without his money, I would never have escaped.

“Even so, I wouldn’t have thought the sixteen-year-old daughter of a high-flying witch would have any idea where to even look for such people.”

“I didn’t.”

I pulled back a little and met his gaze. The blue depths were filled with so much caring and understanding that my stomach twisted. It would be so very easy to fall in love with this man….

I swallowed the thought and added, “But Belle’s a Sarr, and it was through her family’s ‘questionable connections’ we were able to change our names and disappear so completely.”

“Thank God for questionable connections, then.” He leaned his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my lips and oddly comforting. “And thank God you were able to get away.”

“Yes.” A memory of cold hands on warm flesh stirred, and a shudder went through me.

My father might have stolen so much from my childhood—simple things, like the love and the caring of a father—but it had been Clayton who'd stolen my innocence.