His handsome expression read of worry, hope, and the affection that never left them when he gazed at her.
Her words left her in a whisper. “I need to pray to my God for forgiveness, for I have lost my heart to a monster. I find that I love you, Dr. Gideon Raithe.”
Silver orbs went wide. And then they glittered with what might have been moisture. He hugged her to him suddenly, pressing her to his chest. “Oh, Marguerite…Oh, my beautiful, my wonderful Marguerite. My princess—” He kissed her again, his desperation matched only by his joy.
Laughing against his lips, she gently urged him away. He relented, straightened his shoulders, and tugged on his clothing to straighten it.
It did nothing for the state of his trousers, however.
She opted not to tease him on the subject.
“Of course.” He smiled to her. “Take as much time as you like, my love.” Cupping her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her skin. “Tomorrow we shall start our life anew. This world will be yours for the taking. Anywhere you wish to go, anything you wish to see, it is yours.”
The impulse struck her without warning. “Istanbul. The city you grew up in.”
“Done.” He kissed her forehead slowly, holding the embrace for a moment. “Now…go on.” He took a step back. “Before I tear your dress from your body and rut you over my table like an animal.”
She slid from the table and headed toward the door. She responded without turning around, a fiendish little smile on her face. “Perhaps tomorrow before we depart.”
The strangled noise he made from behind her was one she would cherish for a long time. But now, she had her moment’s peace, and a decision to make.
Should she spare her immortal soul and seek an escape from Gideon Raithe?
Or should she accept her love for him, and his nature in turn, and stay at his side?
Evil was made of temptation. And she was sorely that.
Heading to a far corner of the castle, she found a room that sat mostly empty—there were just the two of them “living” there, after all—and shut the door. Locking it, she began to pull the furniture out of the center of the room.
The symbol she drew on the floor in chalk was one she would never forget. But simply because she remembered the complicated shapes did not mean she had Gideon’s skill in drawing it. It took her several attempts to draw the image upon the floor before she was satisfied that the universe might be able to recognize her attempt—shoddy and crude as it was.
With a long breath, she stepped into the circle.
“I need help,” she said to no one in particular. She was “stating her intent,” as Gideon told her often helped in such matters. “I do not know what to do. At first, I wished to escape. But now, I find myself longing to be in his arms and by his side. I have been corrupted by the beast, and I do not know how to cure myself of his poison. I do not even know that I can. I need to flee, but how?”
Shutting her eyes, she reached out into the world around her. She felt that rushing power that lurked beyond the veil. She stretched out a hand in front of her and called out to the one person in all the world she knew would have all the answers.
He always did.
“Father.”