Three men seduced his wife with promises of safe harbor, and she had agreed out of a desperate need to escape him. Had it been only that? Or was there something more wanton at play? Did she desire them? To be used by them? To be ravaged and pillaged like nothing more than a common harlot?
Even if her words were correct, and she had only been viewing the tryst as a transaction where her flesh was the currency provided, a simple fact remained true.
Three men had been easily successful where he had only failed.
Jealousy had consumed him in a way he had never known was possible. The first man was dead before he had even realized he had moved. It was a shame, as he wanted them to suffer for what they had done and nearly done.
The other two had died far slower. He had enjoyed their screams. The first one he eviscerated and allowed to die slowly, watching in terror and agony as he plucked pieces from the third as if he were nothing more than a daisy in a field.
She loves me, she loves me not.
She loves me, she loves me not.
Their screams had been a small balm to the wound Gideon felt torn open in his chest. She was willing to give up her body to escape me. She was willing to pleasure three men if it meant escaping me. She was risking her life with them, and she found it preferable to my companionship.
He wished to raise them from the dead only to make them suffer more, but then there had been the issue of the village itself. She had known to flee to its safety. While she would never leave his castle again if he had any say in the matter, she was wily and more resourceful than he gave her credit for.
No, he needed to remove this option of escape.
So, he did exactly that. In the simplest, most succinct, and cathartic way possible.
By taking the life of every man, woman, and child, and then razing their structures to the ground.
Marguerite was shivering in his grasp. When he had reminded her of the simple fact that she belonged to him, her words had failed her, and she had descended into quiet tears. Not once had she asked for mercy or claimed she felt any regret for her actions. At least she would not go so far as to lie to him.
It did not stop him from digging the proverbial knife between her ribs, as she had done far more literally to him, as he turned, thrusting her ahead of him, still fisting her hair cruelly in his grasp. “They are dead because of you, Marguerite. All of them. Every life in this place is lost because of your actions.”
“I did not do this!”
“You sought to use them as shelter. You should have known what would happen when I found you.”
“No. Their deaths are on your hands, not mine. How was I to assume you were a wraith, sent from the grave to torture me?”
“Tortureyou?” He laughed harshly and yanked her back to him. Grasping her jaw in his other hand, he forced her to look at him. “How have I tortured you? Hm? I have given you everything you could ever desire. I have trusted you. Shown you all that I am. I have shared with you my home, my wealth, my knowledge. I have been patient—I have been kind—have I once lain a hand upon you?”
Those large green eyes watched him in fear and grief. But not in regret. “No.”
“Do you wish for me to show you what it means to be abused, Marguerite?” He tightened his grasp on her hair. By her hiss of pain, he knew his point had been made. “Is that what you desire from me? From those men for whom you so readily spread your legs? Is that what they offered that I have not?”
“N—no.”
“Then do not speak to me of torture. You know nothing of the word!”
“Let me go, wraith. Please, let me go.”
He laughed. It was harsher than he intended it to be, but his anger still ran unchecked, and he was too consumed by it to care much for her tears. “No, Marguerite. You shall never be free of me. Nothing shall take you from me.”
“I do not belong to you. My life is mine.”
“Oh? I beg to differ.”
“Then I shall find a way to rid you of my life, even if it means I must surrender it as well.”
“Not even the grave shall free you of me, my princess.” He sneered. “For the kingdom of death is mine.” With that, he let his human form dissolve. The cloak that wrapped around her dissipated, but she was not much aware of it. As she found herself in the clutches of a wraith, her eyes once more rolled into her head, and she surrendered to the rigors of the world around her.
Grasping her bloodied, naked body in his talons, he headed back to his home.
You will never be free of me, Marguerite. Even if it means I must wall you up in a tower, you will be mine.
No matter the cost.