CHAPTER TWENTY
GISELLA
I stretched my cramped fingers and placed the quill on the polished wooden desk. Sebastian picked it up, sharpening its tattered end with a small knife.
“Why don’t you do some?” I yawned, still massaging my hand.
Tremors ran along its length from overuse. I pressed my palm flat to the cold surface of the desk, the coolness easing my aching muscles. Dozens of invitations and menus lay drying across the front of the broad desk.
We’d ensconced ourselves in the large, downstairs library Sebastian never seemed to use, but was decorated with evidence of his ‘human’ life—a sextant, a portrait he painted himself, though the ones upstairs in my room and the gallery were much better. That did seem to happen when one had centuries to improve on a skill. And that was the room we stayed in to work through the lists as quick as possible.
Even so, the light was beginning to intrude on our scant hours together.
“But you’re doing such a wonderful job,” he murmured, returning the pointed quill to me. “Besides, you’ve seen my attempts.”
I nodded, eyeing the crumpled papers littering the other end of the desk. While Sebastian could speak fluent English, his written form was sharp and disjointed. Amazingly, his written French was decorated with beautiful curvatures and flourishes.
“Fine, how many more to go?”
“If you’re going to mouth off like that, maybe I should tie you to that chair until you’re done. Then I’ll take that attitude out on that delicious bottom of yours.” He raised an eyebrow in my direction and pushed a small pile of fine parchment toward me.
Covering the instant flush of arousal that doused me in heat, my thighs slick in an instant, I groaned and took the top leaf. “If you say so,” I muttered, keeping up the attitude, just to see what he would do.
Sebastian didn’t disappoint.
His fingers closed around my chin, jerking my face up to stare into his dark eyes roiling with desire and need. He loomed over me, and I hadn’t even seen him move.
“I’m sorry—” I gasped, but he wasn’t having it.
“You’re lucky there are servants about. Otherwise, you’d be on your knees with my cock in your mouth until I found my pleasure in you, just enough to bring on the edge of your own. And when I was done, I'd leave you as a sticky, panting little mess,” he growled every word, arcing his body over mine.
I think I’m already there.
I swallowed when his relentless gaze held mine as though he considered following through on his threat despite the constant staff whizzing past the library door. “I’ve never done—that,” I whispered.
Sebastian’s hard gaze softened. “I know, love. I'll teach you. One day when my patience is stronger and this is all over. I promise you I’ll take the time to train you in what I need.” He brushed a kiss over my parted lips, and sat back down on the other side of the desk like he hadn't almost had me on my knees a second before.
I sucked in a shaky breath, and pulled the next invitation toward me. Several later, he shifted in his seat, the motion of a man whose patience had indeed run through.
“I’ll leave you for a few hours, Gella. Get Charleton to?—”
“I know how to organize a ball, Sebastian,” I snapped, then covered my face with my hands. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I do, but— oh, I’m sorry.”
Firm hands closed around my shoulders, rubbing to my neck. I wondered if he would throw me over the desk and take what he needed from my hide, but instead he continued his massage. Pops and cracks burst from my shoulders as he manipulated my upper body. I leaned back against him as his fingers dipped into the top of my bodice.
I pressed my hands over his, unwilling to give any more time to the job at hand but knowing it needed to be done for the plan to work, even if it meant sacrificing precious moments like these.
“If we don’t get this done, we won’t have a ball. How do we know she’ll come?” I tilted my head to look up at him.
He stared back at me with fierce eyes, and I was glad I wouldn't be on the other end of his fury this time.
“She’ll come.”
I was halfway through the stack when Sebastian put himself to bed. Charleton fed me at appropriate intervals, and I was grateful to be able to exchange the completed tower of invitations intended for local families for a small platter of morsels. Charleton and Minette had made a list for us of the names in town. It turned out the staff knew most of the town, though that didn’t surprise me. We weren’t as isolated as I had initially thought. I handed him a few extra notices to put up in the local trading post.
Charleton balanced them on one arm and managed to pour me thick, black coffee at the same time.
“You’re a gem, Charleton. Thank you.” He nodded, his mouth opening and closing. I blinked. “Have I forgotten something?”
“Things will change after this, won’t they?”
We’d filled Charleton in on our plan—omitting the part about Amy’s planned demise. I balked still at the thought of planning something so dark, while Sebastian hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid. He withdrew his brooding presence from myself and the household by the day.
“Yes. I suspect they will.”
Charleton nodded again, taking my completed invitations away. I watched him leave, foreboding roiling in my belly. I hadn’t been able to settle since we’d returned from the bayou, except for those few stolen moments in Sebastian’s arms.
The valet had indeed outdone himself in service to his master. And to me, I supposed. Charleton organized the staff, telling them what was coming and what we expected of them all, in terms of service. I suspected this ball would be less like any other the area had seen—if the fledgling town had even held one before.
I sank back in the bath, letting the water take my weight and my muscles uncoil themselves from the knots my shoulders had wound themselves into. Leaning over the desk writing out adverts and invitations hadn’t been good for my posture. I stretched out, learning to paddle across the pool on my own. In a different place the skill might have made me outcast or worse as a witch, but drifting in the pool was one of the activities I looked forward to once the sun rose, and Sebastian retreated from the day.
But it wasn’t the same without him during the day—being here with him had become my peace, my sanctuary. As it had been his for the years here, I suspected. I wondered what he had done in France to relax? I needed to remember to ask him.
He’d had some errand to do during his waking hours, mumbling something that sounded rather like Dolion and wolves , launching himself from the second story balcony to land onto the drive with barely a crunch of gravel. He disappeared into the garden as a blur—I was still getting my mind around who he was and how his body worked. Lived.
I frowned, searching for him; usually, I could still feel him in my mind, but perhaps he didn’t want me listening in on his conversations with Granny Smythe and her pack. The wolves might have let us go to her, but I got the feeling we weren’t particularly welcome to drop by at any random time.
I leaned back, letting my hair trail in the water, and closed my eyes. In the semi-darkness of the pool-cave, I was able to let go.
Do you miss him, Gisella?
I shot upright, water streaming from my arms. Wet hair hung in a long stream down my back.
“Amy?” I whispered with no small dose of horror, her name echoing across the ripples in the pool. “How are you in my head?”
Inside, I screamed, and I supposed she could hear that, too. But this was my private place, with Sebastian. Where we rediscovered each other, after his absence and my…disobedience.
The word sat poorly in my mouth, but I considered it, turning the thought over. But he demanded it, and I gave to him freely, submitting to his will, enjoying it.
If I asked something of him, would I want his obedience? According to our current laws—even the unfortunate ones New Orleans inherited from France—I had no right to such a thought. But I suspected Sebastian, having experienced so much in his overly long life, was different.
Was I being too outlandish, too modern in my thoughts?
Not to me…Gella. Is that what he calls you? How quaint.
“Get out,” I whispered, my senses hyperalert. I turned in circles, but she wasn’t in the room with me.
But she had taken up residence in my head without my permission.
I wasn’t sure what was worse. Would I ever be able to sleep without either of them talking inside my mind, or keep my secrets? His secrets?
She laughed, a brittle thing, her sarcasm bouncing off the walls encasing my mind, though she had purred my name a moment before, like a lover.
You’d know something of that by now, surely, about your husband? You were so beautifully naive.
“Get OUT! ” I screamed, my vocal cords straining with the effort, breaking at the end. “You’re never welcome here. Anitta.” I used the name Sebastian had given me, hoping it would banish her behind a door of her own making.
Her mocking laugh tinkled in my head.
No such luck.
He did do the thing properly, didn’t he? Well, I’m sure I’ll be back.
I blinked, and my mind was my own again. Her presence had vanished with the last, faint echoes of my screams.
I didn’t tell Sebastian about Amy’s intrusion into my waking hours. I couldn’t. Everything we planned was based on a being, an entity, who he seemed to understand. I was the weak link, the mortal amongst monsters. Monsters who love. I could muse the point all day, but it wouldn't get anything constructive done.
Bolts of fabric in several shades of complementing blues and one horrible mustard-yellow lay across my lap. I fingered one of deepest blue while Minette removed the others, replacing them with a cream lace and a silver trim ribbon. I smiled, discarding the lace for the first time in my life, and handed the ribbon back to her.
“What style would you like, madame?”
I shot her a hard look. She held my eye before giggles erupted from her lips. She was an infectious creature, and soon my sides ached. I pressed a hand to my stomach, waving her away as shadows lengthened across the floor. Sebastian opted to sleep in the prelude to the ball. Whether to renew his strength or for the simple solitude to meditate, it was unclear.
Something he hadn’t let me in on while I was left to plan the remainder of the event.
“You pick, Minette. I trust your choices. How’s James?” I asked, off-hand, folding the ribbon back into its packet.
Minette turned a sweet shade of pink.
“He—ah, he’s been...well. I think,” she mumbled into an armful of material raised suspiciously high.
I sighed and pressed my hand to the top of the pile until her eyes became visible.
“What happened?” I asked softly.
“Nothing!” She gave me a startled glance and scurried from the room.
I shook my head, still clutching the ribbon, and placed it beside the bed for her to find later. Amusement niggled inside my head that wasn’t my own, and I sighed, eager to see Sebastian. Maybe I’d have to start reversing my days and nights after all.
Oh, I wouldn’t get too excited, Gella. I’m sure he’s hours away from breaking his own thoughts.
My teeth clenched at Amy’s intrusion. Would I have to get used to her in my own headspace, too? Gone were the days of privacy, then.
“I told you to get out,” I groused through gritted teeth. My jaw ached from the constant, restrained tension until I was fit to bust. I sucked in a breath, my cheeks depressing against my teeth with the effort. “You have no place here.”
I carved out the thought in a resolute manner, hoping with no little dose of desperation she’d get the hint, but I doubted it would work.
But I need to be here. For him. For you.
I ignored that, collecting books from my dresser and heading for the library. Our little library, between our rooms. I needed to ask Sebastian how to block unwelcome thoughts, but without explaining why. That could be difficult.
Yes, I rather think it will be.
Her amusement irked me. I threw up a rude image I’d seen the sailors on the docks throw to one another in jest, but sent mine with the greatest effort of disgust I could manage. If Amy had any sinful crutch beside lust, it was pride. I could work with that.
The barb worked—a little too well.
I grabbed for the handle of my door, but my muscles refused to move. Even my feet were frozen where I stood. I gaped—or tried to—but my mouth seemed glued shut, too.
“Is this you?” I hissed through numbed lips, my words slurring together horribly.
Of course, silly. How else was I to get you alone?
“Why?” I didn't bother with extra words. The mumbling would serve to amuse her and humiliate me.
Smart little thing, aren’t you now?
My feet turned of their own accord, walking me back to the bed. I watched in abject horror as my body became a marionette on invisible strings with me trapped within. But she hadn’t numbed all of me. I could still feel—everything. Under her guidance, my fingers trailed the ribbon, lacing it around my wrist.
I think you’ll get the idea soon.
My knees hit the bed in a jarring motion as though she hadn’t got this puppeteering thing down pat, just yet. I felt rather than heard her sneer in my head, but she didn’t allow that small backstep to prevent her from moving forward with her plans.
I watched my hand rise, reaching up to my neck, coiling the length of ribbon around and around. Once, then twice. I swallowed beneath it, my airway already restricted.
“Are you going to kill me?” I gasped out, my words mingling on top of each other.
I had the impression of her smiling. Then my other hand caught the remaining end, forming a knot I couldn't have made if it were in front of me.
Then, my hands pulled.
Blood suffused my face instantly, bringing with them heat and a panic I’d never experienced, not even when my deranged father had sent me from my filial home. Not when my mother had died.
I had no control over what Amy was doing to me with my own body. It was the grossest form of invasion.
Hands wrapped tight in ribbon, my wrists and neck battled for the honor of which was trussed tightest. I tried to swallow and couldn’t; saliva dribbled from my lips as Amy departed, her laugh tinkling in my ears. I pitched face first into a lump of bedclothes.
Unable to get a breath in or out, the ribbon cut into my throat as my hands drew it ever tighter. The soft, silver ribbon became a garrote that sliced into my wrists. Tears streamed from my eyes, wetting the already uncomfortable hot mass of sheets and quilts.
Why would she kill me? Because of Sebastian? Questions I thought we’d already answered swirled in my mind, my eyes watering with the heat of my face. If I didn’t choke to death in my own bile and saliva on the ribbon, I’d asphyxiate, stuck in the swath of material I’d tumbled into.
What a sight I must make, rump in the air, face pressed down on the bed. Sebastian would find me a sight, I was sure. And perhaps he would be relieved. My mind numbed, along with my wrists, and my throat. A serenity stole over me, and I let my eyes flutter closed. In this, as with him, I let my body and mind submit.
You trained me too well, husband.
I managed a brief smile at my state of deshabille, and sank into nothingness.
I THINK NO SUCH THING!
Hands gripped my ribs with force, tossing me onto my back. I blinked lazy eyes, staring into the pale face that wouldn't quite come into focus. Something humorous about one man finding me in his bed with another crossed my mind, but it was gone before I could process it. My eyes drifted shut again.
“Goddamn you, Gella! Let go of this—let go . Gella. You have to let go.” Fear mingled in a cold rage that coated his words, but it was the former that drew me back to him.
Fear for…me?
I blinked at the tugging on my fingers, trying to look down but everything was stuck. Sebastian slid into focus above me, and I marveled at him. So beautiful.
Thank you, but let’s get you freed first, love. Then we can deal with the pleasantries.
His victory rolled through me as the ribbon was stripped away from my hands, torn from my throat. With it, mobility returned, and my body was once again under my own control. Amy’s presence dropped far distant from my mind. I beamed my gratitude as my fogged brain was certain I should for a single second.
Then, sensation returned.
Pain burst at every point in my hands, my fingers stabbed with a thousand needles. I gasped on my back, flopping to bring air into my flattened throat, a displaced fish with no pond to rescue me. He rolled me onto my front, and I fell into the bedclothes once more. In less than a second, panic set in.
I thrashed in the tangle of sheets, heat rushing into my face again. I couldn’t breathe. Sebastian hauled me upright, holding me away from his body as I gulped air.
“You’re all right, Gella. It’s okay.” His fingers hovered between my wrists and throat but never touching.
I imagined the marks torn into my skin. Blessedly, a numbness stole over the areas, and I rasped in thin draws of air. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into him this time, but still cautious of my neck. I burrowed into him, glad of his scent, of the safety his embrace offered.
“What happened?” He cupped my elbow, drawing me back. “Gella? Do you not want to…be here?” His tone guarded, he surveyed me with a critical eye.
“Don’t look,” I wheezed, “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful. But why?” His eyes turned hard, his face like granite.
“What?” I gaped, glad to be able to move as I pleased. Something deep inside me quailed at the thought she might be back, to ruin me further, but I pushed the thought aside to address later. “Do you think I did this myself?”
He gestured to the bedclothes; the ribbon lumped in a tangle upon itself. I recoiled from the thing in horror, tears pricking my eyes as he allowed me to burrow back into him.
Gella. If you can’t tell me, will you show me?
I nodded miserably into his shirt, tears blotting the thin material, and slid my head to the side, despite the deep ache in my neck. Things not so physical hurt inside me; the surface wounds were the least of my worries.
He sucked in a breath above me, his fingers sliding into my hair, his touch tender as he kissed my skin. Working in slow steps, he dipped his head, lips pressing gently, oh so gently, against the wound I hadn't made. Or maybe I had, with my struggles. I waited for the sharp pain of his bite, but he soothed the wound with his tongue, cradling me to him as he took me back through the last few minutes, though it had felt so much longer.
I watch the events of the last moments—what could have been my last moments—dispassionately. Numbness drenched my soul.
My memories slid across my vision that I knew he shared, a live stage play of my own life. Every word Amy had said came out spoken, as though she’d said the word out loud, not lodged inside the dark edges of my mind.
Through it, Sebastian held me to him, his lips pressed to my skin as he took the smallest amount from me. When I watched his hands touch my waist, he squeezed me, raising his head. The memory disappeared in a rush, and with it, a finality of sorts settled into my awareness.
I blinked.
“What did you do?”
“I shut her out. I think. I’ve tried to mirror the—what is it you say about my presence?— a void.”
“When she goes into my head, she will encounter a—a wall?” My brow furrowed.
I tried to work out what he meant, but the concept of seeing my own mind from someone else’s point of view appeared to be beyond me.
Sebastian brushed his fingers over the lines forming there, smoothing them. “She won’t be able to find your mind at all, assuming I’ve done it right. You won’t be…visible to her at all.”
“Can you still speak to me? Like you have been?”
You mean, in here?
A shiver ran through me at his presence there, like it had been between us, before. Not an intrusion, but safe, and…all him. Sebastian. My cheeks heated as I smiled shyly. Pain flared across my throat again, taking any thoughts of time together with it.
“I don’t want to be like that. Like…her.”
You mean like me.
Pure pain laced his voice, ricocheting through my head, but neither of us bothered to deny the truth of the statement, the disquiet that rose in my throat as a silent scream I trapped beneath layer after layer of love and hurt and all the things we were together, who we had become.
Because this mortal life was all I could give him. It would have to be enough, because it was all I had.
Then, he would wander on into an unknown destination alone. I wouldn’t-could not risk- becoming like her. Nothing like her. I’d seen what the curse of immortality did to a mind, and I did not want its kiss, or its temptation.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my vision blurring before me.
“No, Gella. It is I who am sorry. For everything. But I, too, am selfish for not being sorry to drag you here and stealing the years of your mortal life to share with you.”
Tenderly reclining me back onto my pillow, he stared into my eyes for a moment, then strode to my door. I blinked back tears at his sudden exit, but voices murmured from the hall. He returned swiftly, sliding his arms around me, pulling me into his strength.
Rest, Gella. Let me care for the horrors I’ve inflicted on you.
I blinked, wanting to tell him that they weren’t his horrors, that none of this was his fault at all, but exhaustion threw a blanket over me, and I sank into the familiar void of him.