She stared at him, the monster of her nightmares, and realized she was no longer afraid. She had known the love of a good man and carried his strength inside her. No matter what this brute did to her, she would prevail—because love always won. Love taught her to make the right choices, to fight for what mattered, and to know that no matter what, it would always be there for her.
You are mine, and I am yours.
She heard Thomas’s vow, felt it in her marrow, and knew that she would never find him again if she had a stain on her soul.
The monster came toward her, halting when she pointed a finger at him.
“I curse you,” she said.
His eyes slitted. “What tricks are you playing?”
“I curse you, and all the generations of your blood that follow in your footsteps.”
As she said the words, she felt a jolt of energy—of power that seemed to come from a place beyond her. It rushed through her veins, and she felt taller, stronger. Her voice rang with authority as the prophecy flowed from her.
“Your trespasses will cause you to suffer, the way you have caused others to suffer.”
He blinked like a bully faced with a more powerful adversary for the first time.
“For every abuse you have inflicted, you will feel the same pain inflicted upon you.”
The color drained from his face. His expression went from uncertain to frightened as he suddenly gripped the left side of his chest.
“You know what you have done,” she intoned. “Now you will feel it: the crushing weight upon your breastbone, the vise closing around your heart. Every breath you take causes the agony to spread.”
“I…I cannot breathe.”
Clutching his chest, he staggered, then fell to his knees.
“There is no air for you,” she said calmly. “Only pain. You will leave this earth feeling the pain you have caused and knowing that you will not be mourned.”
He gave a great, gasping groan—then fell over onto his side.
Blinking, Rose shook away the haze. She approached the unmoving figure cautiously. The monster’s eyes were open and shocked, his last expression one of terror. He was dead…but not from her poison. It was from the poison in his own soul: the act of a guilty conscience exacting payment.
Closing the door, Rose left the manor without looking back.
That night, James sat against the headboard next to Evie, holding her as she shared the rest of her dream.
“Rose didn’t kill her abuser after all,” he murmured.
“No,” Evie said tremulously. “He did it to himself. For despite the pain he had caused her, it was not in her nature to do harm.”
“As it was never in yours.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Does it give you peace, knowing that Rose was innocent?”
“It does. But I wonder what became of her.” Evie bit her lip. “Of the child she carried.”
“Perhaps we shall never know. However, I am certain of one thing.”
“What is that?”
“She was a survivor. A fierce and resourceful woman who would do anything to protect the child she made with the man she loved.”
“Yes.” Evie smiled slowly. “While we are on the subject of children.”
With a graceful motion that stole his breath, she swung a leg over his lap, sitting astride him. Her night rail bunched at her waist, and when he felt her warmth pressed against his groin, he went instantly hard.
She brought her lips close to his. Her every word made him quiver with anticipation.
