Filed to story: Sinful Mates (Imogen) Book by Jessica Hall
“Bear what, Caroline?” I stutter. Her eyes flick to my face, her teeth bared as an animalistic glint flits across her features.
Claire is busy making something before walking over, a green concoction in a cup in her hand. “Drink this, it will help.” Caroline clutches the cup, her hands trembling as she tries to hold it to her lips, gulping down the liquid fast. It works instantly, I can tell she is in pain, yet somehow it becomes bearable for her.
“I need to go. Claire, you need to watch over her,” she gasps out.
“What’s going on?” I ask in panic.
“They’re torturing him, something has gone wrong. I can feel my mate being tortured. Josiah, I need to get to him. I’m sorry Imogen, I must go!” She says, trying to stand on shaky legs. I have no idea how she thinks she can run to him in this state, yet I can tell she is determined to try. She walks over to the sink and I nearly throw up as I watch her grab a knife and run it across her wrist, letting the blood run into a cup.
My mouth instantly waters at the smell of it, I swallow loudly, my mouth filled with my saliva. “It will congeal but you’re going to have to force it down, Imogen. They will kill me if you die,” she says before turning toward Claire.
“Make sure she takes it as soon as she is in pain,” Claire nods, before giving Caroline a hug.
Caroline walks on wobbly legs as pain hits her again. She wraps her arms around me before rubbing my swollen belly. “Take care of yourself, I will be back as soon as I can.” She says before running out the door. I can hear the wind howling; the storm is going to hit soon. I just hope Caroline clears the mountains and doesn’t get stuck outside in it.
“Maybe you should go lay down, Imogen? I will call out when dinner is done.”
I nod my head at Claire, I feel like all I do is sleep. Feeling constantly drained and exhausted. My mind goes to Josiah, wondering what could have happened, to cause such panic in Caroline. I can feel Tobias and Theo’s anxiety, they also feel almost closer to me; like they aren’t far at all. I play with the bangle Claire gave me that blocks the bond, knowing I only have to take it off and they will find me. I can’t risk my baby. So, I drop the bangle and it presses back against my wrist. I lay on the bed before slowly drifting off.
My sleep is restless, and I can’t find a comfortable position; tossing and turning constantly. When I finally wake up opening my eyes, it is because the storm is raging outside. The wind sounds like a freight train against the walls. The entire place shakes in its wrath. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and notice there is no light, the cottage is eerily quiet. The only noises are the crackle of the fireplace. I stand up and stretch, taking a deep breath only to see my own breath in the air. I can feel the heat coming from the fireplace, so why is it so cold all of a sudden? My breath makes little clouds in the air.
Opening my bedroom door, I see darkness; the lights are all off. I trudge down the stairs, excited to see the flames in the fireplace casting a little light. I can’t hear Claire anywhere or smell her cooking I have become familiar with. I feel a sense of dread wash over me when I feel the first sharp pain stirring deep within my stomach. I clutch my belly, trying to breathe through the pain and stumble down the rest of the stairs. That’s when I smell it. Blood and lots of it. My mouth waters at the delectable smell.
I stagger into the kitchen as pain ripples through me again, knowing I have to get the glass of blood from the fridge. But where is Claire? Flicking the light switch, no lights come on, the storm having knocked the power out somehow, even though it runs off solar.
I feel my way into the kitchen at the back of the house, listening for any sounds, but all I can hear is the storm raging outside, and my own footsteps on the slate floor. It’s not until my feet step in something warm and wet that I know something is wrong. I bend down, pain searing through my abdomen at the movement and feel the ground, my hands coming in contact with the intoxicating liquid spilt on the floor. I feel around, my hand becoming coated in the gooey liquid before I feel hair, curly hair and I jump up. “Claire” I gasp.
Knowing it’s her body, bleeding out on the floor at my feet, I stagger back, panic setting in. That’s why she couldn’t see the baby being born, why she thought my future was just darkness. She never got to live to see it. I scream in agony as I feel something shift within me. Pain, being the only thing I can focus on.
I hear her laugh before I see her figure standing in the kitchen’s corner in its shadows. She steps forward; I step back, toward the living room with the fireplace. I turn and try to run, holding my stomach, but she is in front of me in seconds.
The fire crackling, illuminating her features as I come face to face with the homicidal bitch.
“Miss me?” She taunts just as another wave of pain ripples through me, bringing me to my hands and knees. My scream echoes and dies in the storm raging outside.
“What, no sisterly hug?” She taunts me, while I try to bear the pain.
As I cough and sputter, my blood spatters on the floor. I clutch the bangle from my wrist and toss it into the fire with the last bit of strength I have left, before collapsing. I look up at her, a devilish grin on her face. “Now why would you do that? I was hoping to enjoy myself but now, I have to make things quick.”
“What do you mean?” I choke out, coughing on more of my blood, so I try to turn my head and let the blood drain out of my mouth.
“Well, since you are dying which, is such a shame. I figured the baby will need a mother, and since that can’t be you, why not aunt Bianca? Though, mom I feel has a better ring to it,” she says, her manicured finger tapping her chin in thought.
My blood runs cold at her words, she wants my baby. And I know there is nothing I can do to stop her. I can’t even stand, let alone fight her.
“You’re not taking my baby!” I snap back at her, trying to crawl to my feet.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re dying, Imogen. I can do what I want,” she says, shoving me onto my back with her foot, my body rolling onto the cold floor.
“Why are you doing this? Help me, please,” I beg her, trying to reach any part of her humanity, she can’t be this evil. Something human must remain surely.
“Help you? Your mother killed mine, when she found out she was pregnant with you. My father left us in the wind, completely forgetting the family he started and deciding to start a new one. I’m the last person who is going to help you, Imogen. You destroyed my family, forcing my mother to kill herself. You have no right to ask for my help; don’t you think?”
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