Page 100 of Emperor of Corruption
“You will do no such thing,” Killian says, sharply enough to startle me. “I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling you an appointment with the best OBGYN in the city—”
“I amnotkeeping it!” I hiss.
“You are,” he responds, infuriatingly calm and sure of himself. “Naturally, I can’t allow you to give birth to a bastard, so we’ll need to marry. We can announce our engagement at my next event—I have a gala on Monday night. You’ll come as my date.”
I can scarcely process what he’s saying. Having akidwith him? Getting engaged andmarriedto him?
No.No, he can’t. What he’s saying isn’t just insane, it’sabsurd.
“Killian,” I whisper. Tears gather in my eyes. “You—you can’t do this to me. We had a deal—”
“Deals change,” he says mildly. “Fate intervened before I had to. Perhaps there is something to the silly notion of destiny, after all. Whether it be biology or a higher power, something stepped in to make you pregnant with my heir. I won’t put a stop to that, and neither will you. We’ll adjust to accommodate this change to our lives.” He’s sayingwe.We, as in plural. Him and me, together.
The first tear falls down my cheek, quickly followed by the second. A soft sob escapes my lips, and I cover a hand with my mouth, looking down at my lap.
This can’t be happening to me. This cannotbe happening to me. This has to be some sort of twisted, cruel dream—I’ll wake up any moment now.
“Lyra,” Killian says softly. “Don’t be upset.” He stands and rounds the table, crouching beside me. I turn away from him, sobbing again when he slides a hand over my stomach, resting it over the flat of my belly.
The flat expanse of skin that, if he gets his way, will start to swell with his spawn.
“This is a good thing—abeautifulthing. We made a life together.” He kisses my cheek, and I flinch violently. “And we will raise it together. I’ll make you happy—you’ll see.”
“You’re not capable of making me anything but miserable.” The words are a pitiful whine. He kisses me again; I flinch even harder, and his hand on my stomach tightens.
“Give it time,” he says gently. “And eat up. Youandour baby need the energy.”
His words are the final nail sliding into my coffin.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Killian
When we return, Lyra goes straight to the bathroom and takes a shower—a verylongshower with the bathroom door locked. When she emerges, she’s wearing a bathrobe double-tied at the waist, and a frown. Her eyes are red and inflamed; her complexion is a bit pale for my liking.
When she sees me sitting on the bed, waiting for her, panic flits through her expression. My Little Bird is flightier than ever, even though there’s a permanent tether between us growing in her stomach. Perhaps it’sbecauseof that.
“I choose now,” I tell her.
Her brows knit. “What?”
“The deal we made, when you took the aphrodisiac.”
Her eyes flare with anger. My cock hardens at her defiance. The prospect of taming this gorgeous woman, this fiery creature, of making her mine forever is almost too exciting to bear. “You mean when youdruggedme?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” I nod. “We had a deal. At some point in the future, you would come to me, and you would participatefreely. You’ve been little more than a corpse this last week. The only difference is that corpses are colder.” I reach out a hand. “I want you to participate. Take everything I have to give you andenjoyit.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. I watch the battle play out on her face; reason versus defiance. Unlike me, Lyra is a woman of her word—she’ll keep a promise she made, even if it was under the influence of an aphrodisiac.
Perhaps she’ll only keep it because she knows I get drastic when she doesn’t give me what I want, but she’ll keep it nonetheless.
I watch as she loses to herself, and a sullen expression falls over her face. Her trembling hands move to the sash of her bathrobe and untie the double-knot. I lick my lips as she drops the robe, and her glorious, shining body is revealed.
Lyra is a siren sent to lure me to my destruction—or salvation. Her physical perfection is unmatched, but her intellect is what hooked my attention and kept it.
“Come here,” I instruct, tapping my thigh.
She walks over to me on unsteady legs, looking as though she’s walking a plank rather than coming to her future husband.
