For, now that Chas had gotten the news about Dimitri’s great change, even more hope stirred inside him. Just three days ago, while he and Narcise were still traveling back from Scotland, Dimitri had gone through some great ordeal to save Maia’s life…and now he, too, had miraculously broken Lucifer’s hold on him. Whether it was because he’d finally learned how to do it through his studies, or for some other reason, Chas wasn’t certain. But the truth was, Dimitri had become mortal once again—his Mark from Lucifer had disappeared.
And the angry, austere earl had actually been seen to be smiling.
Just then, the door flew open to emit Rubey, who had no qualms about bursting into any chamber of her establishment without knocking. “Aye, I thought I heard you return. Dimitri is here,” she said to Chas. “He insists upon speaking with you immediately, Chas. Voss is here as well.”
He rose, at once concerned and relieved by the interruption.
“With your permission, Narcise.” He glanced at her and was rewarded with cool look that told him she wasn’t finished with her pique. Ah, well, women were always annoyed about something. At least his sisters always were. He gave a proper bow and followed Rubey from the chamber.
One thing was certain. Chas wasn’t going to tell Narcise—or anyone, especially Rubey—what else Sonia had seen…when he gave her a handkerchief belonging to Giordan Cale.
According to Sonia, Cale’s greatest fear was Narcise. Dead.
* * *
Narcise staredafter them as the door closed, suddenly furious and bereft at the same time.
The moment Rubey rushed in, she’d smelled him: smart, masculine, familiar. Giordan.On her.
Her throat seized up, tight and scratchy, and she’d hardly heard the ensuing conversation, for her entire body was swimming in disbelief and anger. Narcise’s vision darkened with shadowy, red edges. By Fate, Giordan must have fairly run to have made his way back here to Rubey first, and without Narcise seeing him.
He’d gone directly from Narcise to Rubey.
From kissing Narcise, devouring her, filling his hands with her…to Rubey. The whoremistress.
Rage flushed through her, and for the first time in weeks, her Mark eased into painlessness. Narcise closed her eyes and fed it, submerged herself in the darkness of anger.
And then, just as quickly as it had come, the fury eased into something more devastating. Pain.
I loved you.
Had he really? She scoffed to herself, tried to push away the memory of his face…tonight and on that horrible day when he’d come to her afterward. Smelling of Cezar.
The starkness in his eyes had been the same then as it had tonight: deep and complete. Raw.
Do you have any idea what I’ve done for you?
Narcise rose abruptly and began to pace the chamber, propelled by fear and hurt. If he’d loved her, why,why, had he done what he’d done? How could he?
How could he have imagined she’d accept him after he’d betrayed her?Anybetrayal would have killed her, after what she’d experienced…but for it to be with aman…and herbrother…how? How could he have thought she’d forget that?
Was it just his Draculean nature? To seek pleasure wherever it was offered? To focus on self, and only self?
Of course it was.
She couldn’t stay here any longer. She had to have air—clean air, not breaths tainted by his scent. She wanted to be back out beneath the open sky, the stars and clouded moon. She wanted to feel that power again, that confidence and worth of self from earlier tonight, before Giordan had ruined it.
Dismissing her disheveled and dirty clothing, she strode quickly and silently to the chamber door and peered out into the corridor. It was empty, and she slipped out for the second time that night, closing the door behind her and walking down the hall toward what she recalled was the front entrance. Giordan’s essence lingered, along with that of Chas and Dimitri and even Voss, she thought, but she ignored it and kept walking.
Chas would worry, but he’d have to learn that she could take care of herself. And she was furious with him as well, for lying to her. Keeping information from her.
Trying toprotecther.
She was Cezar’s greatest fear? How had she never known that?
What could that mean?
Sonia Woodmore had to be mistaken. Her Sight had to be wrong.
