- Callie.Stardoll
Mortal Kiss Exclusive Scenes
Mortal Kiss Exclusive Scenes
What really happened to Sergeant Mitch Wilson!
Read the Previously Unreleased Chapter Below in this Stardoll/Random House Book Launch Exclusive Article!
Chapter 40
Glamour
The car flowed over the empty roads. Mitch Wilson noted that it was snowing again. It always seemed to be snowing these days. Blinking, Wilson wondered, for a second, where he was going. Then he remembered – to Mercy Morrow’s, of course. How could he have forgotten that? She needed him. She needed his protection…
He carried on driving, a little faster. He wondered why he wasn’t there already. Surely there was nothing more important than being by her side? Mitch wasn’t sure why he had left it, now. When was the last time he had seen her?
He thought back, though it was difficult. Everything felt like a dream. He was trying to command his unwilling body and thoughts, but something was making it difficult. He wasn’t sure what. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to get to Mercy.
Her beautiful face loomed in his mind. He glanced at the rear-view mirror, and thought he saw her smile. Mitch remembered the first time he had seen it – so fragile, so beautiful. She’d summoned him to the mansion. Was that only a few days ago? It seemed like forever…
It had been snowing that morning, too. Sunday. He’d driven the route that he was driving now, pulling up in front of the big house and staring up at it. He wasn’t nervous, though he was puzzled why Mercy Morrow wanted to see him. Mitch thought that perhaps she was worried about the locals bothering her and her son during their stay. Liz, for example – asking to come with him, as if he might actually let her! She could be so excitable, sometimes, his youngest daughter.
He strode up the steps to the vast front door and rang the bell, taking a polite step back as someone answered the door. It was Ballard, Mercy’s manservant. He thought it seemed a little odd for her to choose this man as a close companion. Why not a housekeeper, instead? But of course, that was none of his business. What Mercy Morrow did in her own life was her own affair.
The inside of the house was a surprise. It had been shut up for years, so he’d never seen it before. It seemed far too large for just three people, but that was the way of the rich, he supposed. Ballard led him across the polished marble floor, his regulation boots clipping against the cold stone. Ballard’s shoes hadn’t made a sound.
The servant showed him into the living room. It was comfortably furnished, but so, so cold. He shivered, despite the fact that he’d been wearing his winter-issue coat. Mitch had pulled it tighter around him as he glanced around the room. He froze when he realised he wasn’t alone. Mercy Morrow was standing in front of the unlit fireplace. Mitch blinked. Had she been there a second ago? He would have sworn the room was empty. But she must have been. She was staring into the large mirror.
“Ms Morrow,” he greeted her, taking a couple of steps across the polished wood floor. “I’m Sergeant Wilson. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”
It was an unnecessary politeness – Mitch knew he was right on time. Mercy didn’t turn around, but she cocked her head slightly, her reflection in the mirror looking at him with a slight smile.
“Welcome, Sergeant Wilson.”
She didn’t say anything else. Mitch was slightly uncomfortable, not least because of what Mercy was wearing. It was thin and gauzy – a nightgown, perhaps, draped softly to leave her shoulders bare. He would have preferred it if this encounter to had been conducted at the police station, with the rest of his unit present, but she had insisted. Now, she didn’t seem willing to turn around, regarding him, instead, in the mirror.
Mitch took a step forward. “I understand you wanted to talk to me, Ms Morrow. Are there any specific concerns that you have about your time here in Winter Mill? I can assure you-“
Mercy held up one slim finger, a commanding gesture for such a slight woman. Mitch was suddenly very aware of her reflected eyes… they were deep, and very, very blue. He shivered, feeling the icy air work its way down his neck.
She beckoned him closer, slowly, and he found himself moving, until he was standing at her shoulder. Not close enough to touch, not really, but close enough to catch the delicate perfume she wore. It occurred to him, suddenly, that he was close enough to lean down and kiss her bare shoulder. He blinked, chasing the shocking thought away, and wondered what had come over him.
“You see, Sergeant Wilson,” Mercy said softly, her breath pooling in the cold air and brushing against the frosted surface of the mirror, “people follow me everywhere. Photographers, journalists… people who just want me to be their friend. It is… so difficult…”
He was fascinated, suddenly, but Mercy’s delicate finger. She had placed it against the surface of the mirror and was tracing a pattern in the tiny ice particles. It looked like an intricate web, a marking of lines and angles. Mitch followed its lines with his eyes, losing track of what Mercy was saying. Her voice sounded like music, like a beautiful melody washing over him.
Then everything else faded away. All he could see was her face, her beautiful face, glowing brightly in the light of this dim world. And Mitch Wilson knew that he had found his calling – his true calling, the thing that he had been put on this earth to do:
Protect Mercy Morrow, no matter what.
What a day that had been. Still driving, Mitch felt contentment settle around his shoulders. How could he have ever thought he needed anything else? He pulled through the gates of the big house, driving right up to the front doors and flicking off the engine.
He rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. Waiting for a respectful minute, he pushed against the handle. The door opened, unlocked, and Mitch stepped inside.
“My lady?” He called, from the threshold. “Ballard?”
Mercy’s soft voice tinkled like a host of tiny bells, floating gently out of her sitting room. “I am here, Sergeant Wilson. Please come in.”
She was standing by the mirror again, staring into it as if she could see something no one else could detect. Mercy smiled, her full lips as red as cherries, and Mitch felt his heart constrict as her eyes raised to look at him. Mercy turned, slowly, a gust of cold air from somewhere fluttering her thin robe against the slim curves of her body.
“I am so glad you are here, Sergeant Wilson. Ballard has left me all alone.”
Mitch frowned. “But why? How could he-“
Mercy’s eyes dipped their gaze, as she walked closer. When she looked up at him again, it was through her lashes. “I do not know, but I fear I can no longer trust him. And… and I am so afraid, so afraid to be alone.”
Mitch reached out, taking her hands in his. “Do not be afraid. I will protect you, my lady.”
Her lips parted in a delighted, beguiling smile, and Mitch felt himself smiling back, helplessly. “Will you stay with me?” Mercy asked, “By my side, to keep me safe? Will to promise to do what I say, give me what I need, whenever I need it, forever?”
Mitch could not tear his gaze away from hers. “Of course I will. Anything, my lady. Anything.”
She let go of his hands, stepping back to the mantle and picking up a large bunch of keys. Mercy held them out to him. “I knew you would. You are such a good man, Mitch Wilson. And now, I think it’s time you met the dogs.”
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