Isabelle alternated between cleaning each demon until every drop of delicious nectar was gone, collapsing between them in an exhausted heap. Her eyes were already closing, both demons shrouding herin their firm embraces, their silent caresses reminding her of where she belonged.
In le Jardin.
With them.
How could the moon mother think this was wrong when it felt so right?
“What are you?” Rul asked, and she smiled.
“I’m a good girl for my owners.”
She was eager to serve, eager to obey. Perhaps she could be accepted, deviances and all.
“And so much more than that,” he added, the words filling her with bliss.
Bellinor’s hand was at her chin, tilting her up to face him and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“So much more…”
CHAPTER 19
ISABELLE’S STOMACH TURNED AS she peered into the inky crevasse, the darkness so complete she couldn’t see the bottom.
She had her palm pressed to the wall, the thin ridge under her only a couple of feet across as she and Rul made their way along the slender path. They were in a canyon of sorts, though with walls made of white marble, heading toward an opening up ahead.
There were surreal sculptures projecting from the smooth walls, a face as large as a whole person with water streaming from the eyes, and a hand reaching out, palm to the sky, like it was beckoning someone.
Le Jardin had endless rooms to explore, each one more remarkable than the last, and Isabelle wondered if she’d ever be able to see them all.
As they came out of the narrow canyon with Rul leading the way, a vast expanse stretched before them, glistening white towers extending from the darknessand into the cloudy sky above. A cool breeze tickled her skin, the space strangely absent of noise, just the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance.
Like everything in le Voile, it was beautiful and absurd, a sense of unease permeating the eerie space.
Rul took her hand and squeezed, perhaps sensing her disquiet, a dashing smile pulling at his lips. Her heart swelled, and though she hadn’t repeated her words from the last session in the red room, she felt them with every fiber of her being.
Had it really been an accident that she ended up here? Deep down, she knew what Bellinor had meant when he had chased her through the woods. When she had told him that she was his. She could have said no, relieved her lust with Henri or Pierre, but that was not what she had wanted.
Perhaps that was the very first time she had chosen herself, truly and unabashedly given into her needs, as twisted as they were.
Though she spent many hours in the faux cottage Bellinor had created for her, she was feeling the urge to return to Marilet less and less with each passing day. A return would mean being alone once again, alone and yet surrounded by others who knew nothing of her truth. People who expected things of her, but never gave anything in return.
Priestesses who made her feel like a failure no matter how hard she tried to honor Celeste. Men who craved something she couldn’t give them, who saw a perfect image of what they wanted from her instead of who she truly was. A cottage that had once felt likethe only safe space in her life, but was increasingly reminding her of her grief.
With Rul and Bellinor, she felt herself able to fully give in, to accept that they wanted to use her and cherish her and care for her in a way that no one ever had. She could be her whole self without fear of rejection, no matter how inhuman or debased her desires were. She trusted them to give her the pain she needed, but in a way that no longer felt like simply a punishment, but something sublime.
Suffering was not her pathway to salvation, because she no longer wanted to be saved. She wanted to revel in the ecstasy of agony, to relinquish the control she clung to. It had been easier to seek pain as a way to atone, a way to focus her inner turmoil on external sensations. She could control those feelings by punishing herself, hoping it would lead to the validation she so desperately craved.
With Celeste, she was powerless, but with Rul and Bellinor, she held power she never thought she could. They needed her just as much as she needed them. In the throes of passion, she had unearthed things that were unhealed, things she needed to address as a way to move through the grief of her life.
She had avoided thinking about it for so long, focusing on her guilt because it was easier than admitting what had truly happened. She had lost her mother before she could ever know the woman, lost her father as well. When she had most needed acceptance, she was shamed, made to feel deficient for giving in to her desires.
For craving love from someone other than the moon mother.
Even in the crowded temple, she had been alone, but no longer.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Rul asked, breaking her from her thoughts.
There were so many things she wanted to say, but she gave him a smile instead.
