Cosette nodded her understanding. Her arms shook as she sat up. Davien thought he would never forget the sight of her tear-streaked face, her lovely dark hair in tangled disarray across her shoulders. He knew he would also never forgive the men here for putting her through this horror. Or allow himself to assuage the guilt for leaving her here to begin with.
After she had crawled across his back and grasped onto his black fur, Davien let loose a terrifying howl that cleared the path for their exit.
His stride never slowed as he put distance between them and the Abbey. He stopped only when he reached the tall, iron gates surrounding Shadowlawn. Resuming human form, he cradled Cosette in his arms. She was shivering from shock. He could feel the warmth of her blood soaking his shirt, the marks across her back having torn open that lovely, delicate flesh. The sight made him want to return to the Abbey and deal with every single bastard that had dared to hurt her.
The moment he walked in the front door, he wasn’t surprised to see Charlotte appear at the top of the stairs. The instant she noticed Cosette in his arms, she gasped in alarm. “Oh, dear God. Wot did they do t’ her?”
He didn’t answer, merely walked up the steps and strode toward their bedchamber.
Charlotte was right behind him, dogging his heels. “Where are ye goin’? She needs a doctor!”
He whipped his head back to her, causing her to back up a step in alarm. At the moment he didn’t care if she saw the glowing eyes of the beast. Cosette was his main concern and nothing else mattered. “I will see to her needs.”
He slammed the bedchamber door.
~ ~ ~
Cosette couldn’t stop trembling. She wasn’t cold, even when Davien stripped her bare. Or scared. It was the memory of the horrors she’d committed this night that were burned into her mind. If she were awake or asleep, she knew that man’s lifeless eyes would never leave her sight. “I killed him . . . I killed him . . . I killed him . . .” She couldn’t seem to stop repeating those words. Even when the men of the Order had come running and saw what she’d done, dragging her out of her cell for their own brand of personal sentencing, she kept murmuring it over and over. When they condemned her as a witch, she didn’t deny it. When they said she would hang for her crimes, she didn’t beg or plead for her life.
Because she was already slowly dying on the inside.
“You didn’t kill him. The voice controlling your locket did.”
Davien’s voice was firm, but gentle when he spoke from behind her. She closed her eyes with a combination of relief—and sheer panic. She was lying on her stomach in their chamber, in the room she never thought to see again.
How she wished she wasn’t here now.
After the heinous acts that she’d committed, Cosette had no doubt that the voice would attempt to finish what it had set out to do when she had been at Shadowlawn before: kill Blackburn.
Cosette wouldn’t let that happen, even if she had to end her own life to do it.
She hissed at the first touch of the cold, wet cloth against the burning lashes crisscrossing her back, but she didn’t cry out. Even when she was a child and the cane had been laid against her flesh, did she even make the smallest whimper.
She didn’t know how much time passed as Davien carefully cleaned her wounds, and bathed the rest of her body. She fell in and out of consciousness although she felt his tender hands on her back in order to minister a soothing cream.
Cosette must have finally fallen asleep for a good while, for when her eyes opened, the sun was streaming brightly through her window. She tried to move, but the slightest action caused pain to shoot through her body. It throbbed from the abuse she’d endured, so she laid still and shut her eyes once more.
The second time she awoke, it was to the scent of steaming food. She looked at the silver tray beside the bed. Her mouth watered, and this time, even though every movement protested in agony, she was able to struggle to a sitting position. But the moment she glanced down, her appetite vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
The gown from the Abbey was still on the floor—the one covered in bloodstains.
As if attuned to her every thought or feeling, the door opened to reveal Davien. He held a clean, white shift in his hands. “I would have brought this earlier, but I didn’t want to bother you while you slept.”
His handsome face was so uncertain, so heart wrenching, that Cosette couldn’t help but hold out her hand to him. He came forward and interlaced his fingers through hers. And because everything else she might have said seemed inconsequential, she whispered two simple words that carried a wealth of meaning. “Thank you.”
He didn’t reply, but she could see the darkening of his eyes, the swirling contentment of the beast inside. He drew her to her feet. She stood naked before him, but there was no desire in his expression, only a kindness that touched her heart as he slipped the light material of the clean garment over her head. It brushed against her back with a slight discomfort, but she didn’t complain. Anything was better than what she had been wearing.
“Shall I make a plate for you?”
He gestured to the tray, and in spite of her earlier distress, she couldn’t deny him. She knew that she would eat every single bite he gave her, even if it threatened to come back up the moment he left.
However, the instant the feast before her was revealed, that ravaging hunger returned. She’d had little to eat the past few days, and with the first bite of mutton, her stomach craved more. Once that was gone, she quickly consumed some white soup, cheese, and freshly baked bread, before finishing off her meal with pudding and a rich warm chocolate to drink. When she finally set down her knife and fork, she felt, if not necessarily relieved, but more like herself.
Davien had stayed by her side the entire time, watching in quiet contemplation as she ate. After she was done, she looked at him and saw a pleased smile curving his lips. She returned the gesture. “That was wonderful.”
He reached out and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “I’m just glad to see some of the color returning to your cheeks. You were so . . . pale.”
His throat bobbed as she brought his hand to her lips to bestow a kiss on his palm.
