He reached out and pocketed the money, and then rose to his feet. “It seems you and I have an accord.”
“I beg to differ.” Davien’s firm, commanding voice came from directly behind her. “That coin you just tucked away is mine, Dashwood, so it would appear that your bargain is with me.”
~ ~ ~
Cosette held her breath as the Abbot appeared to consider his chances of winning this battle. She could almost feel the strength emanating off of Blackburn, as well as the violent savagery. It dripped from him like droplets of water, coating the air around them like a raging fog.
“You would dare disrupt the Order?” Dashwood nearly crooned. “There are penalties for disobedience.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Davien returned evenly. “But I’m willing to take that chance.”
“Are you? How interesting.” Dashwood seemed to consider his options in the tapping of his finger against a thigh. Finally, he said, “Very well. If that is your choice, then I will have to consider you a traitor to the Order. You will be imprisoned in the catacombs to await sentencing, and any further access to the archives will be denied.”
“Davien, no!” Cosette cried, turning to the duke. His jaw was clenched so hard that she was surprised that it didn’t break. “Please, don’t do this. It was my decision to come here.”
His eyes gleamed as they glared at her, the beast yearning to break free and lay waste to everything around it. “A fact I have yet to understand fully, madam.”
Cosette cringed. Each word he uttered was clearly enunciated. After her betrayal he may never forgive her. It broke her heart to even consider it, but the alternative was even worse, that the locket might consume her and cause the end of his life.
She could bear his hatred, but not his death.
She laid a gentle hand on his cheek and spoke softly, “This is for the best. I know it is. Charlotte can go free, and I won’t cause you any more harm.” She glanced at his shoulder, where she knew his wound was already healing. “When I saw Quinn’s knife come down, I thought . . . that was it. I can’t go through that again. All you can do now is let me go. Return to the archives. Find a way to end this.”
~ ~ ~
Davien looked into Cosette’s dark eyes and found that he was torn, right down the middle. When he was assured that Quinn was stable, he’d left his side to find that Cosette was missing. He’d nearly torn apart the house looking for her, feeling the same overwhelming panic he’d experienced that night in London when she’d disappeared. After that, he’d flown out across his estate, but there was nothing, not a single sign that she had even existed. The sheer terror in that moment nearly consumed him, until he felt it. The slightest nudge of her presence. He’d instantly followed it, praying that he could reach her before the locket took her away again—this time for good.
The shock that had struck him to find that her small beacon of light had led him here, to this pit of darkness and damnation, had nearly sickened him.
Now, he couldn’t believe he was actually considering this asinine plan of hers, but while he hated to admit it, she was right. He still had two more volumes of Solomon to review. It was the closest he’d ever come to an answer for this twisted puzzle. If he was barred from the archives now, then it was all over.
For both of them.
Without taking his gaze from Cosette, he spoke to Dashwood. Every syllable was like a crescendo of pain contorting his gut, his heart, his very soul. “She’s all yours.”
“A smart decision, Blackburn,” Dashwood replied, the satisfaction in his voice causing the beast to rise up and prepare to pounce. It was only with a sheer, iron force of will that Davien kept it from acting on the impulse, when all he wanted to do was unleash the creature and ravage this entire place, shake the very foundation to the ground.
That red-robed arm extended to Cosette, which she accepted. “This way, m’dear.”
Davien’s throat was raw, aching with emotion, burning with the need to remove Dashwood’s filthy hands from her. He had to clench his hands into fists at his sides to keep from moving, acting. His eyes never once strayed from the back of Cosette’s dark hair. He could still feel the silkiness, the times he’d run his hands through those long strands. He remembered the taste of her smooth skin, the sound of her harsh breathing when he brought her to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.
And how he’d felt inside of her—pure bliss.
He vowed right then, that no matter what he had to do, how many oceans he had to cross, or how many mountains he had to traverse, how many enemies he would have to face, or how much heartache he would have to suffer without her in his arms as the minutes ticked by like hours, they would be together again.
Before she disappeared from sight, Cosette turned her head to the side, but didn’t look at him. “Take care of Charlotte.”
And then she was gone.
~ ~ ~
Cosette hadn’t been able to risk a final glance at Blackburn. She closed her eyes temporarily to commit to memory the reason she was condemning herself to this hell. The thick, almost blue-black hair, the dark hypnotizing eyes, that towering frame, and even the swirling presence of the beast was forever burned into her heart.
She wanted to cry, to weep and wail at the sheer torment of it all, but that would do no good. She had to be strong. Or else, die trying.
Dashwood stopped before a single, wooden door, along a row of many. How many occupants were behind each personal cell, she didn’t know, only that she prayed that Mrs. Woodard had been right, and Charlotte was indeed in one of them.
The Abbot produced a key, which he inserted into the lock. After a slight reluctance, it turned and the door swung open. Cosette couldn’t hold back a sob as a familiar figure was revealed. She was sitting on a cot, her red hair was a mess of tangles around her head, her dress torn and covered with grime, but Charlotte was alive and well, and that’s all that mattered.
