Chapter 7
Cosette had never spoken to anyone the way she’d just talked to Davien. Then again, she had never been so livid before either. The man had a talent for making himself out to be the villain when she had honestly started to feel regret because he had been cursed.
Now, she couldn’t care less.
She slammed the book shut. “You can sit here and lament your pathetic existence by yourself.”
“I do apologize if my tale was too much for your virginal ears.” She picked up the closest thing at hand and threw it at his head. The vase missed him by a decided margin. “Tsk tsk,” he chided. “Throwing things about in such a manner. That’s not very polite of you, Cosette.”
His voice slithered through her brain.
“Go to hell,” she snapped hotly.
His grin was pure evil. “I’m already there, my dear.”
Cosette didn’t wait to hear anymore. She fled to her chamber, closing and locking the door behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the hard wood. She kept picturing the sordid details that he’d told her. They replayed over and over in her mind like a dark, continuous symphony—one she couldn’t escape from.
Just as she couldn’t escape from him.
She banged her head against the door in frustration. She supposed there was nothing left to do now, except try and get some sleep, although she had a feeling it would be a long time in coming.
~ ~ ~
Come to me, Cosette . . .
The voice was soothing, enticing. She wanted to obey.
She tried to reply, but her voice refused to comply with the command.
Come to me now . . .
She rushed toward the voice, but it was starting to dissipate. She wanted to scream, to shout:Don’t go!
But it was already vanishing into the mist . . .
“Cosette. Awaken.”
Instantly, her eyes popped open. The first thing she noticed was that she was drenched in sweat, her chemise clinging to her damp body, leaving little to the imagination. The second—she was outside near the edge of a pond, her feet mere inches away from stepping into the abyss.
“Where am I?” she whispered to the calm waters before her.
Davien’s even voice came from her left. “You were sleepwalking.”
Cosette swallowed hard. It had been seven years since her last episode . . . “The blackouts. They’re back.”
“It would appear so,” he concurred. “The question is why, and how did they begin?”
She turned to him then. Those dark eyes were regarding her steadily, without censure or judgment. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn in the library, although he’d removed his jacket—the one with the bloodstains. She wondered if he ever slept. Or if he even needed to. “You’re not the only one who carries secrets from the past.”
He frowned lightly. “I thought you said you were an orphan.”
“I am.” She reached up and fidgeted with the chain of her locket, which she never removed. “But that isn’t where my story ends.”
“Indeed.” A pause. “Shall you confide in me, dear Cosette, even knowing what I am?”
Cosette was still furious with Davien for baiting her like he had, intentionally going into full detail about his former liaisons while at the same time trying to coerce her to become his mistress. She certainly didn’t trust him, but when she considered the watery grave he’d saved her from, she decided that if anyone could help her solve the riddles surrounding her blackouts, it might be him.
She gave a brief nod as her only confirmation, and began to head back to the manor.
