Six weeks in which he had to hide the truth from Cosette.
And he would keep his secrets—in order to keep them both safe.
~ ~ ~
You have forsaken me, Cosette.
The beast must be dealt with.
The Duke of Blackburn must not live to see another day.
Kill it. Kill him. Now is your chance. They are sleeping.
Then you will be free to come to me. In Paris . . .
Don’t you remember?
The voice from her dreams was angry. She had displeased it, so now she must make amends. She would be free, it promised, if only she did as it asked.
Cosette had fallen asleep reading in her rooms, but now she stood before her dressing table. She reached into the drawer that held her locket and withdrew the box. Again, the voice called to her, murmured in her ear, so she opened the lid. The clasp was repaired, and when she put it on, the chain grew strong, and she knew that the bond was complete and wouldn’t be so easily broken again.
She walked downstairs and went into the kitchens where she withdrew a carving knife from its stand. She held the handle tightly in her grasp as she walked to the duke’s bedchamber with a slow, gentle tread. The door didn’t make a sound as she pushed it open. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the sunshine trying to stream in beyond the windows.
She walked toward the bed where a shape was outlined. She raised the knife above her head and—
Cosette . . .
Her arm trembled above her as a new voice entered her subconscious. She knew this voice. It was Davien, and yet it wasn’t. That deep timbre was mixed with a gentle hum, as if the beast itself was addressing her.
Listen to me . . .
She waited.
Control your mind.
Perspiration began to trail down Cosette’s temples as she fought an inner battle.
You don’t have to do this. Follow my voice . . .
Her breathing was rapid, shallow.
Suddenly, the knife clattered to the floor.
The sound was loud enough that she woke up—and met Davien’s dark, swirling gaze. “What are you doing here?” she asked hoarsely.
“You’re in my chamber.” He bent down and picked up the weapon. “You arrived with malicious intent.”
She shook her head in horror at the knife. “No . . . I . . .” She glanced around and realized that he spoke the truth. She covered her face. “Oh, God. The blackouts . . . they’re getting worse . . .”
“They’re not blackouts caused by an overactive imagination, or even brought on by sleepwalking. I saw your eyes just now. They were pure white.” He paused meaningfully. “You’re being hypnotized by some unseen source.” He twirled the knife in his hand before he shoved it in the back of his trousers. “Someone who apparently wants to see me dead. The question that remains is who, and for what purpose.”
She sank onto the edge of his bed, her legs unable to support her any longer. “I have to leave.”
“You know that’s not an option,” he returned briskly.
“But I nearly murdered you,” she whispered brokenly.
“Hardly,” Davien snorted. “I knew what was happening the moment you walked in the door. I sleep very lightly.”
