“That is true. I suppose I combated le Voile with absurdity, with crafting a space that was functional and… otherworldly.”
“So, there was nothing here before this?”
She still didn’t understand how he could have so much power here. And if this was the Hell the priestesses had lectured on, where was everyone else? People like… people like her father. People who had sinned.
People like her.
“No, there was nothing here. Nothing like this, at least.” He eyed her empty plate, not noticing the way she gripped her hands into her thighs, simulating the pain of the cilice he had taken from her. “You’re done. Come.”
Isabelle swallowed hard, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he stood and held a hand out to her.
“Where are we going?”
“Your room.”
She took his hand, letting him pull her out of the chair and lead her toward the door.
“Why?”
A seed of arousal was sown, his arm linking with hers and sending unbidden heat to her center.
“I have something to show you.”
As they entered her room, anticipation prickled on the surface of her skin, completely unsure of what to expect. The conversation at dinner had been strangelypolite, all things considered, with no indication that hewanted to ravage her as soon as they breached the terminus of her domicile. Far different from the lonely meals in her cottage with only the crackling fire to keep her company.
“Well?” Bellinor asked, cutting through the tense silence and nodding toward the corner of the room. “What do you think?”
She followed his gaze to an easel with a blank canvas sitting atop it. A table next to it held a set of paints and brushes, all the supplies she could need and identical to the ones she had back home.
Isabelle walked over to the setup, stroking her fingers over the materials to make sure they were real before turning back to Bellinor.
“What is this?”
He shrugged, following and eyeing her carefully like he was observing her reaction.
“You asked me what you were supposed to do here. I assume you enjoy painting from the supplies in your cottage, though I’m not entirely sure what’s so amusing about smearing color on canvas.”
Somehow he’d remembered the half-finished artwork in the dark corner of her room that first night he’d followed her home, a detail most surely would have missed, though his little quip grated on her.
“Andyousaid that I’m only here to serve you.”
Now his eyes met hers, twinkling with amusement.
“We don’t require your servicesallthe time, though if Rul had his way, that might be true.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to be quelled by this small moment of kindness. It didn’t come close to making up for everything else.
“Why did you do this for me? I thought you wanted to make my life miserable.”
Bellinor furrowed his brows, like he was surprised that she would think that. He seemed to love toying with her, knowing she was as helpless as a little mouse in his presence, and yet here he was acting shocked at her for saying so.
“If you want to be miserable, I can make that happen,” he said, his voice low and his eyes narrowed into a devious glare. “Is that what you want?”
Isabelle shook her head, her body trembling as she dropped her arms to her sides.
His face softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
“I can give you whatever you want, your deepest desire. Misery, agony, pleasure, lust. It is yours.”
