Chapter 3
ISABELLE HURRIED DOWN THE dirt path, the quarter moon peeking through the trees and illuminating her in its otherworldly glow. She said her prayers, begging the moon mother for protection as she caught sight of her small cottage in the distance.
A gift bequeathed to her by her late father, a place still full of the memories of their evenings spent playing chess and the stories he told her of the mother she’d never known.
There were dark memories too, ones she tried her best to forget, depressive episodes so grim he had locked himself away in his room for days. And the moment she lost him for good, the only person who had ever loved her and made her feel safe.
The strange man, Jean-Phillipe, had frightened her, and she was eager to stoke the fire and curl up in her bed.
She’d go to the temple tomorrow, beg Celeste for protection from whatever evil the man worshipped.
And in a week’s time, there would be the offering of light, and she would repent for her sins.
The hoot of an owl echoed through the silent woods, and she quickened her pace, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking the path to her cottage. It was easy to recognize him in the pale moonlight, that evil grin unmistakable.
“Now, where are you running off to, darling?”
Isabelle took a gulp of air, stopping in her tracks.
“N-Nowhere…”
She weighed her options, fear gripping her with icy tendrils as she kept her eyes glued to the stranger.
She could flee, but she had no faith in her ability to outrun this man.
His body was lithe, a sturdy chest and stout thighs that would easily catch her.
Screaming would do little good out here, isolated from the rest of the town.
“Nowhere? Just dancing under the moonlight like a good little witch, hmm?”
Isabelle furrowed her brows, trying to calm her racing heart, though it did little good. What was he talking about? Good little witch?
“Come, show me your home, Isabelle. I’m eager to see inside your lovely cottage.”
The words sent a chill through her, the confidence of his outstretched arm making her body tremble. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself, her legs working of their own accord, taking one step and then another until she reached for his hand.
His touch set her body aflame, starting at her palm and coiling through her like a snake. An unnatural warmth settled over her, melting away the icy dread inch by inch, her entire body humming with anticipation.
Jean-Philippe smiled, pulling her along until they stood outside her door.
“Well?” he asked, gesturing for her to enter, and Isabelle obeyed.
His gaze was hot against her neck as she unlatched the door, slipping in and trying to slam it shut behind her. All for naught, as Jean-Phillipe held his palm against it, pushing his way through with unexpected strength.
“Now, now. That wasn’t very nice, was it?”
“I-I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, backing away from him as if he were a wolf in disguise.
Jean-Philippe eyed her dark cottage for a moment before moving to a chair and taking a seat.
He said nothing, fiddling with the wooden pieces on the chessboard her father had carved, eerie silence filling the space.
Isabelle busied herself by lighting the candles, panic building as her shaky hands ignited flame after flame.
She jumped when he finally spoke, his voice piercing through the chilled room.
“You have no need to be nervous, darling. Tonight will be fun.”
Fun? What in the Veil was he talking about?
“What do you want from me?” she asked, standing as far away as possible, trying to stop her voice from trembling.
Jean-Phillipe hummed, his eyes narrowing as they roved up and down her form.
“What do I want from you?” he considered, his tongue flicking over his lips.
His gaze was penetrating, spearing Isabelle straight through the chest and holding her in place. She awaited his response, every nerve on edge, words refusing to form on her tongue.
Finally, he answered.
“We shall see, my dear. For now, I’m going to enjoy my time with you. Shall we go to your bedroom? Unless you’d like to do it right here?”
Isabelle furrowed her brows, her mouth dry and her arms glued to her sides.
“Do what right here?”
Jean-Phillipe’s dark laughter filled the space, putting her even more on edge.
“Oh, darling, don’t play innocent. I know all of your secrets, the way you love spreading your legs for the men of this town. And you’ll do the same for me.”
She gasped in a breath, nausea bubbling at her throat even as a flicker of arousal pooled in her core.
Here he was, telling her exactly what he was going to do to her, her pulse quickening as the words settled.
There was no repulsion, no loathing, just base fear and longing, intertwining together until she couldn’t separate them.
This man knew too much about her. It had been many weeks since she last was intimate with Henri, even longer since Pierre. Was he just guessing?
As her thoughts raced, his smile widened until it was impossibly large, too large for his face.
“What are you?” she breathed, horror breaking in her voice.
“It’s not what am I, but what am I going to do to you.”
Jean-Phillipe cocked his head, his eyes suddenly milky white like the glow of the moon.
No pupils, no irises, just radiant energy piercing through her chest, making her stomach flutter.
It was beautiful and it was terrible, unlike anything she’d ever seen.
With another blink, they returned to normal, though the smile never left his face.
“Now, do I really need to ask you again…”
“What?” Isabelle asked, her mind blank as terror gripped her.
“Your bedroom? Must I drag you there?”
She shook her head, trying to focus, trying to understand what was happening.
“It’s that way,” she said, pointing to a closed door.
“Then, come along.”
Jean-Phillipe stood, striding over and entering her bedroom without looking back.
She tensed, wondering if she should run, try to escape, but somewhere deep in her heart, she knew it was useless.
This wasn’t a mere man, it was a monster, and there was no telling how he’d hurt her if she disobeyed. There were myths of such beasts, of course, but Isabelle had never taken much stock in them. Demons who ruled the Veil.
But what was this one doing here? She’d thought they were no more than stories told by the priestesses to scare Celeste’s followers into behaving, but now she had the unmistakable surety that there was one in her home at this very moment.
Anticipation electrified her nerves as she took one step after another, pushing open the jarred door to her bedroom.
It was a small space, but cozy, her bed covered with a quilt she’d sewn two winters ago. Her easel sat in the corner with a half-finished painting on it, a view from her bedroom window she’d started and never finished.
Jean-Phillipe was stoking the small fireplace, flames curling and waving, though she was unsure how he’d gotten it going so quickly. He smiled as he stood, holding his outstretched arm to her once more.
And despite everything inside her screaming at her to stop, she stepped forward, taking his hand.
He pulled her into his embrace, snaking his arms around her waist. He smelled of smoke and animalistic musk, a hint of jasmine that wafted past her nose as she pressed her palms to his chest. Her hands met firm muscles, her eyes wide as he gazed down at her.
“What are you going to do to me?” Isabelle whispered, unable to stop herself from trembling.
That too-large smile curled his lips once more, low laughter rumbling in his chest.
“I’m going to ruin you, darling, and I’m going to enjoy doing it. I know that’s what you desire.”
Before Isabelle could consider the meaning of his words, he pressed his lips to hers, the warmth surprising her.
She breathed in, trying to push him away, but he pulled her closer, tightening his grip on her waist. His tongue flicked against her lips, and he sucked the lower one into his mouth, chewing on it and stirring the embers between her thighs.
Jean-Phillipe restrained her with one strong arm, the other trailing a line up her body, over her stomach and breasts, before cupping her cheek. Isabelle moaned into the kiss, her body betraying the lust that pulsed through her, overwhelming the fear raging in her mind.
Slowly, he backed her up to the bed until her legs pressed against the firm mattress. He turned her roughly, pressing his nose to the back of her neck and breathing in deeply like he was taking in her scent.
“Moon mother, protect me,” she whispered, unable to stop the prayer from slipping past her lips as she clasped her hands together.
A grumble of dark laughter filled the room, and there was a grip at her chin, Jean-Phillipe pulling her gaze back to meet his.
“Your goddess won’t protect you here, darling.”
His hand settled at her throat, and he heaved a great sigh, his eyes sparkling.
“Shall we get you undressed?”
Lithe fingers were at her back, unlacing her corset with surprising nimbleness. It was the first piece of clothing to be shed, though her skirt and chemise quickly followed, her body bared before him. All that remained was the cilice around her thigh, the metal chain a stark reminder of her sins.
“The moon mother up to her normal tricks, I see.”
Isabelle tensed for what she knew was next, but was surprised when he turned her back around to face him, pushing her gently so she fell onto the bed. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, wrapping her arms over her chest as if that would help steady herself.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, tears burning in her eyes and a knot welling in her throat.
“I’m doing it because I can, and because I want you. That’s all you need to know. Now, on your back.”
Isabelle obeyed as if on instinct, her body moving of its own accord.