She laughed as he tugged her along behind him. For a brief moment, cursed or not, she felt . . . liberated, unencumbered by curses, unseen evil forces, and even her own insecurities. She was merely Cosette du Bouir.
For two hours, they explored every door and passage that the massive castle had to offer. She giggled more than she had in months, feeling as free as a young girl in the first blush of youth with the promise of better things to come, until reality intruded and cast her back down.
It wasn’t until they stood outside beside the gray stone, Roman lighthouse, and the crumbling church of St Mary-in-Castro, did Davien finally turn to her. But instead of words, he kissed her, his mouth moving over hers with that expert precision she had come to adore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer, as his hands encircled her waist, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
When he broke their embrace, she asked breathlessly, “I’m still waiting for you to teach me a lesson in manners, Your Grace,” she added for good measure.
His mouth kicked up in the corner. “It sounds like you have something in mind.”
“Perhaps.” She grinned unrepentantly.
He raised his arm, blocking her in. “Pray tell.”
“Make love to me.” It came out in a breathless rush, but she could tell by the way his eyes darkened that he’d heard her clearly enough.
Instead of drawing her closer, he pushed off of the stone and turned his back with a firm, “No.”
She shoved down her disappointment and crossed her arms. “Why not?” She started to move forward. “Don’t you . . . want me?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Davien—”
He spun around so abruptly that she retreated a step, her back coming in contact with the hard, cold stone. His eyes were glowing. “Because I don’t want to hurt you!”
She felt her eyes widen. “Have you ever . . . injured anyone before?” She hated herself for even voicing such a question.
“No.” Hard, detatched. “But I don’t want to take the chance with you. The beast is more . . . dominant when I’m with you. I can’t—” he amended, “I won’t take the chance that it could harm you.”
Her heart broke. She reached for him, but he evaded her touch. “I trust you,” she whispered.
“You shouldn’t,” he snapped.
He stalked away from her, disappearing among the ruins of the church.
~ ~ ~
Cosette was going to be the death of him. He was sure of it.
But it wouldn’t be because of a knife to his throat.
Davien ran a hand through his hair. She would kill him with words—actions that he couldn’t act upon for fear of the beast’s strength.
He looked at his hands to find that they were shaking.
Ever since he’d seen Cosette in London that night in the rain, he knew she was going to be different. He’d tried to ignore her, to push her from his mind, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
What she asked of him now was beyond the pale. To act so recklessly would not be without disastrous results. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. It didn’t matter how much he might be tempted, Davien might pleasure Cosette in every way possible that he could imagine, but he would not bed her. Not as long as she could be used as leverage, a pawn in this sick game that someone had designed to imprison him in. He still had a hint of humanity left, a spark of nobility, so he refused to condemn her to a life where there was that constant threat, determined to divide them.
He closed his eyes and summoned Quinn. The quicker that they returned to Shadowlawn, the easier it would be to distance himself from Cosette, and remember that nothing had changed.
He was still a monster.
