Mated To The Dragon Of Manhattan (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (16 page)

Locking the door, Truman said we should all sit, and we all followed him out to the living room, where Annabelle still sat sniffling in the overstuffed chair. After seating Brianna and Owen in a plush loveseat next to her, Truman and I sat down on a cream-colored couch opposite.

Brianna and Annabelle exchanged glances, sniffling. Owen sat with his head in his hands, his expression troubled.

Truman studied him for a long moment, his own expression troubled, before speaking. "All right
,
I need someone to explain what's going on. And I don't care who it is, but someone needs to, and right now, please."

Annabelle dabbed at her long-lashed hazel eyes with a tissue. "Owen and Brianna can go ahead, because I'm kind of curious to hear what they know or suspect, but...." She shifted her gaze to them. "We've all gotta be quick. Matthew's down on the twentieth floor, having drinks with a few people in one of the restaurant bars, but he'll probably be back before midnight or so. And I want to be back in bed, sleeping, so he doesn't suspect that I've told anything. So, go ahead, you two. But please be as fast as you can."

Owen nodded, sat up on the loveseat, and raked a hand through his light brown hair, turning his gaze to Truman. "I'll just get right to it, then, and say what I have to say. And I'll start from the beginning." He took a deep breath. "A few weeks ago, because of my psychic abilities, I started picking up some really strange vibes from Matthew. Really, really strange vibes. And not really his specific thoughts, per se, or, at least, not too many of them, but more like his
feelings
. And I started picking up a lot of really strange hostile vibes toward
you
, Truman. Like Matthew was angry at you about something. Like he was angry and...and resentful or something. But
you
didn't act like anything was going on or that there were any issues, and neither did Matthew, on the surface, anyway. But I kept on getting these vibes. So, eventually, I just told him about it and asked him if he was angry with you about anything."

Truman frowned, drawing his dark brows together. "And what did he say?"

Owen sighed, raking a hand through his light brown hair again. "He laughed it off. Just laughed. Said my psychic intuitions sure are spotty sometimes. And, being that they are, and I know it, I just kind of laughed it off, too, and forgot about it, relieved. But then, the day before the engagement party, I picked up a very clear thought from him. He was imagining himself sitting on your throne in the throne room, wearing your crown."

Truman frowned even harder, and Owen continued, frowning himself.

"Thinking that my psychic abilities were really out of whack, I still didn't say anything to you. Being that we've all been friends for so long, and being that Matthew has always seemed so content to be your third-in-command, it just seemed impossible that he could actually be having any thoughts or fantasies about taking the throne from you. But then, the chandelier thing happened. And, as we all know, Matthew was responsible for hanging it. And as we also all now know, he did so improperly. But even after it happened, I just still couldn't let myself think it had been intentional. Especially since the chandelier wasn't even hanging above
you
, and I couldn't understand why he'd want to hurt
me
. Especially knowing, like of course he did, that any physical damage wouldn't be permanent."

I scooted closer to Truman, holding one of his strong arms, hardly able to believe my ears.

Owen continued. "But then today, I happened to tell him how my psychic abilities seem to have been permanently out since the incident. And he said that was too bad, and he was really sorry, and all that type of stuff. But right before that, before he said all that, just for a split second...I thought I saw some kind of expression of happiness cross his face. Just for a micro-second. And everything clicked. Maybe that was his intention. To try to take out my psychic abilities, or at least greatly weaken them, via a massive blow to the head. Maybe he thought this was possible, and just thought it couldn't hurt to give it a try, being that my abilities have never been that strong in the first place. Because, obviously, if he truly
is
having thoughts to try to take your throne, it would benefit him to not have me occasionally reading his mind. Obviously. Like I'd been doing, and like I'd even told him about. So...." Owen sighed, raking his hands through his hair yet again before returning his gaze to Truman. "So, after I saw that tiny little flicker of happiness or something cross his face today when I told him I seem to have lost my abilities, everything just kind of came together and seemed to make sense, though I could hardly believe it, and I still kind of can't. And then, earlier this evening, I told Brianna about this all, and she feels the same. We're just devastated and in disbelief."

Brianna nodded, blowing her nose on a tissue. "And that's kind of an understatement. But you're not only our friend, Truman, you're our lord, and we're loyal to you above
anything
, or anyone. We knew we had to tell you about all this right away."

She shifted her gaze to Owen. "And tell him what other thoughts of Matthew's you picked up before the chandelier accident."

Owen's lightly tanned skin flushed pink, and he glanced at Annabelle. "Well, maybe later. Maybe not in front of...."

Brianna flushed a little pink herself. "Oh. Right."

Annabelle sighed, sitting back in the overstuffed chair, her eyes still red-rimmed but dry for the moment. "Just tell Truman whatever you have to, Owen. I probably already know about it anyway."

Owen studied her for a moment before clearing his throat and turning his gaze back to Truman, his face getting even a bit pinker. "Well, I...before the chandelier accident, I was picking up on some other thoughts Matthew seemed to be having. And they were...well...."

He cleared his throat again, seeming to be having difficulty maintaining eye contact with Truman.

Truman frowned so hard he was nearly scowling. "What other thoughts was Matthew having, Owen?"

Owen's face practically turned scarlet.

"Well, they were some thoughts about Brette. And they were...." He cleared his throat yet again. "They were very...well, very lustful thoughts. You might even say...." Owen turned his flaming face to the side and lowered his voice a notch. "Intensely lustful."

I sat stunned. Matthew had always been friendly to me, but I'd never had any idea, nor had I ever gotten any kind of vibes, that he was having
those
kind of thoughts. Not to mention, I hardly seemed like his type. Annabelle was of average height, maybe even leaning a bit toward the tall side, and slender. Whereas I was shorter and decidedly curvy. Very curvy, compared her, and in fact, I probably even had forty or fifty pounds on her. Also, her curly caramel-colored hair was fairly light, as were her hazel eyes, whereas my hair was dark and straight, and my eyes were dark brown. However, both she and Matthew were in their early forties, and I knew that some men developed a different taste in women as they grew older. And I knew that some men didn't even have a specific type in the first place.

Truman clenched his strong, square jaw, clearly angry.

Tossing her tissue on an end table, Annabelle sat up straighter in her overstuffed chair, her gaze on me. "It's true. Matthew is in love with you. Or lust, more like. Or a combination of the two; I don't know. I started to pick up on it shortly after you arrived here, and eventually, he confirmed it, though not in so many words. But I knew. Though I decided not to say anything, to anyone, because I know your love with Truman is strong, and I highly doubted Matthew would act on his urges anyway."

I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing. With a nearby end table lamp revealing his normally light golden skin a little paler than usual, Truman repeatedly clenched and unclenched his jaw, pulling me a little closer to him.

Annabelle took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "I guess this is where I should do some explaining of my own to make you all understand some things. And to make you all understand why this revelation about Brette isn't upsetting me as much as it might many other wives." She took another deep breath. "You see, Matthew and I haven't had much of a marriage for a very long time. Years, even. Though we've done our best to hide this fact, just because we've both been concerned about keeping up appearances since we're royal court members and all. We've both even had our own little very secret dalliances over the years, though they haven't exactly been secret from each other. They've been more like...unspoken and tolerated. On both our parts. Like I said, we haven't had much of a marriage for quite some time now. Which has bothered me and upset me, of course. As have little comments Matthew has made over the years about being resentful of your power, Truman. Just little comments he's made here and there about wanting to be lord himself and thinking he deserves it. Which I've never spoken of, before tonight, because...well, what would have been the point? I figured maybe all men have secret little thoughts about being lord above all others at times, even if the lord they fantasize about usurping is one of their very best friends. Though being that, like Brianna and Owen, I'm loyal to you above anyone else, Truman, these little comments
did
upset me over the years. Though not upset me like on a level that I was tonight, before I came here. When I just happened to overhear Matthew talking to someone on the phone."

Truman spoke through gritted teeth. "Who was he speaking with?"

Annabelle winced. "I wish I knew."

Truman again spoke through gritted teeth. "And what was he saying?"

Annabelle closed her eyes briefly, her expression anguished. "I can't be positive about this, because I only overheard bits and pieces of the conversation with my ear pressed against a door, and Matthew's voice was very muffled. But from the bits and pieces that I heard, it sounded like he plans to attack you and kill you, and take over the throne. And from what I put together, he plans to kill me, too. And take Brette as his wife. By force, if necessary."

Brianna and Owen's eyes widened, and I couldn't hold back a little gasp. Truman seemed to tense, his breathing accelerating.

Annabelle shifted her gaze to Owen. "And as for you, Owen, being that you're Truman's second-in-command, Matthew seems to want to take you out, too. Though, from what little I overheard, he made it seem as if he'd allow you to remain on the royal court as long as you accepted him as lord and ruler, and if not...he'd kill you as well."

Annabelle paused, her face twisting in pain, and suddenly began crying again. "Clearly, he's changed. And I guess it's been so gradual, maybe we all haven't even been fully aware of it. I know
I
feel like I've been a frog in a pot of boiling water. I always knew Matthew was ambitious, and that he's always had a...something like a hard edge to him, at times. Kind of difficult to describe. But the man I married, the man you all became friends with, was loving and kind at his core. And loyal to his friends. Though now, we can see that
that's
obviously changed, though I don't even know when it happened. Probably slowly, over the years, but I really don't even know. Matthew and I barely even speak anymore."

With his charcoal gray eyes seeming even darker than usual, Truman finally unclenched his jaw. "How positive are you about what you overheard? Is there any way at all you could have misinterpreted the things you heard?"

"Well, sure. I was listening through a door and only catching names and bits and pieces. So, would I bet my life that the things I'm saying Matthew intends to do are a hundred percent correct? I don't know. Maybe not. But I know that I did hear at least most of what I heard clearly, or, at least, clearly enough."

Truman didn't answer right away, seeming to be deep in thought. "Then, I suppose my next questions are when does Matthew plan to accomplish this takeover, and who does he plan to have help him?"

Annabelle shrugged, wiping her eyes with a fresh tissue. "The
how
and
when
, I have no idea. But the
who
, I have a few guesses. He's been spending a lot of time with three of your men, though kind of clandestinely, not very often in public. They mostly sit around talking and drinking in our kitchen late at night, and I rarely pay any attention. I usually just go to bed. Though now I really wish that I
had
been paying more attention these past few months. I'm sure I probably could have brought you a lot more information. But I guess what I
can
offer is the names of the shifters he's been having all these little meetings with, and I'm just guessing it was one of these three he was talking to on the phone earlier tonight. The shifters are Michael Fox, David Bennett, and Adrian Smith. Who are, as I'm sure you well know, three of your strongest shifters."