“It’s a long walk back.”
To her surprise, a pair of giant bat wings spread out behind him. He didn’t even give her the chance to refuse his services before he wrapped her in his arms and took flight into the night sky with a large flap. Cosette didn’t even look down at the grounds they passed that surrounded the estate, but stared in wide-eyed amazement at the wings protruding from his back, for that was truly a sight to behold.
“I might become self-conscious if you keep looking at me like that,” he said dryly.
Cosette felt her lips twitch. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had been so vicious and cruel with his words just hours ago. This man—the one carrying her so tenderly—was the one she could find herself eventually falling in love with.
It made her wonder if his heart wasn’t entirely without redemption.
They landed with an easy grace on an open balcony, the doors leading into the room beyond flung open to let in the cool, night air. Davien’s wings disappeared as he walked inside. He didn’t say anything as she followed him. She might have spoken herself if she’d had the appropriate words. As it was, knowing that he had brought her directly into the demon’s lair—his bedchamber—rather took her ability to speak.
“Care for a drink?” he asked, as politely as his title would suggest.
She managed a single nod.
He brought over some sort of amber colored liquid, holding out the crystal tumbler to her. She accepted it, careful to not allow their fingers to brush. She took a delicate sip. “It’s sherry.”
He lifted a brow. “Were you expecting something else?”
She shrugged. “Brandy, perhaps.”
“I never cared much for it.”
Cosette snorted.
“You find that humorous?” he asked.
“Actually, I do,” she returned, daring to walk further into the room. “It seems rather ironic that an aswang—” She nearly choked on the word. “—would have an aversion to brandy when he has a taste for animal blood.” As she spoke, she sipped from her drink and inspected the brown and emerald green furnishings—careful to avert her eyes from the large, four-poster in the middle that mirrored the one in her chamber.
She paused as she spied his dressing table. Sitting on top were implements for shaving and personal grooming. While Davien was still a man—a duke—these things were just so normal compared to what she now knew about him.
“Brandy is something I eschewed long before I was cursed.”
Cosette reached out and picked up the straight razor. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before with a gold, inlaid blade and a blond horn casing. “I never did ask how long you’ve been . . . cursed.”
“Nearly twenty years.” No emotion in his voice, just a detached sort of acceptance.
“I can’t even imagine how awful that must feel,” she said softly, as she returned his razor to its former resting place. When she turned to face him, his dark eyes were swirling, glowing. For a moment, she imagined that she saw the swish of a long tail behind him, before it vanished. She prayed it had merely been a trick of the light.
“I didn’t think we were here to discuss my past again,” he purred. “Although if you would like a recounting of events—”
She held up a hand. She didn’t wish for that side of him to make another appearance. She was just getting used to having a civil conversation. “That’s not necessary, I assure you. I heard quite enough earlier. I would be grateful if you never mentioned it again.”
A smirk touched his lips, but he remained blessedly silent on the subject.
Cosette turned her attention to the fire. She allowed her thoughts to pull her miles away, and as she stared into the flames, memories flooded her brain, and she began to speak. “I was found on the doorstep of the Heavenly Heart Catholic Orphanage in Paris when I was an infant. You already know about my locket.” She absently reached up and touched the comforting presence of the chain. “I didn’t start suffering from these strange blackouts until I was seven years old. Because of these . . . spells, I was viewed as some sort of witch. They were always trying to get me to confess to worshipping Satan, but no matter how many times the sisters took the cane to me, I wouldn’t admit to being evil.”
Cosette hugged herself. “Naturally, I spent most of my time alone, for the rest of the girls looked at me as some sort of . . . anomaly that should be shunned. Either that, or they didn’t speak to me for fear that the nuns would take the whip to them. But that all changed when Arien Clayburn arrived. She was a five-year-old orphan from Ireland, whose parents had recently perished in a diphtheria epidemic.” Cosette’s throat burned with emotion. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of her. “Arien soon became my best friend. We used to have these late night talks, even though bedtime was strictly enforced.”
She swallowed heavily. “Unfortunately, not long after her arrival, my blackouts started to become more frequent. I would wake up in different areas of the orphanage, even outside, as far away as the entry gates. Since the punishments didn’t seem to be doing any good, I was sent to . . . Pastor Isaacs.” Cosette shuddered, faltering over his name. The very sound of it still sent terror straight to her heart, even though it had been nearly eight years since she’d last seen him—the day she became of age and left the orphanage and all its terrifying memories behind.
“Arien knew as well as I did that the head priest was the true demon of the Heavenly Heart. Only two weeks before a thirteen-year-old girl by the name of Amelia had been dismissed after it was discovered she was with child. We all knew who the father was, for there was no one else it could have been, but he’d merely sat back and allowed her to be cast out on her own.” Cosette felt her chest grow tighter, not only for the fate that had likely befallen poor Amelia, but because of her own distress.
“I’ll never forget the day I was brought to his chamber. The nuns left me alone with him, even though I begged for them to stay. He claimed he was going to perform an exorcism to rid my soul of the dark one. But once they left, he . . . he tried to . . .” Cosette shook her head. “I was lucky enough to get away from him before he was able to properly cleanse me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t pay for that moment of defiance. I was beaten and sent to solitary confinement for three months. When I was allowed to join the others, Arien was gone. I was told she’d fallen ill and had died. My only regret is that I never got to say goodbye.”
Cosette still felt the overwhelming grief from that day, the hole of Arien’s loss still piercing the middle of her chest. “I couldn’t help her all those years ago, only to wish that she found peace at the . . . last. But I can do something to help Charlotte now, should she need it, for whatever might have happened to her. As far as the blackouts,” she added. “They dissipated somewhat over the years at the orphanage. When I made it to the workhouse I would go months without an attack, suffering only severe headaches. Until tonight, the last one was almost two years ago.”
When she was finished, Davien finally spoke. “You don’t know what triggers them?”
