Chapter 10
“LOOKS LIKE YOU TWO HAVE BEEN BUSY.”
The commanding voice woke Isabelle from her nap, her head filled with haze as she tried to remember where she was.
“Very busy,” Rul said with a laugh, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. “She’s a good little plaything.”
He nuzzled the top of her head, and she blushed, distinctly aware of the fact that she was completely nude, her body still humming with the sweet bliss of release.
“But we missed you. You should come join us,” Rul added, patting the mattress behind him.
Bellinor rolled his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood in the open doorway.
“I… prepared dinner for Isabelle,” he said sheepishly, like he was embarrassed about the gesture.
And now that she knew how much effort he put into feeding her, it made it that much sweeter.
Sweet. She was calling the demon who’d tricked her sweet. Was she really quelled so easily? Perhaps they were right about her, about her desperation, her lack of restraint.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not invited?” Rul asked, squeezing her tighter against his chest as if he were claiming her.
“I was hoping we could dine alone,” Bellinor said, still not quite making eye contact with her.
Rul tipped her chin up to face him, pressing a kiss to her lips, the smoky miasma of his presence enveloping her once more. She felt the expectant energy in the chaste touch, the anticipation pulsing just under the surface, but he pulled away a moment later with a big grin.
“Enjoy your meal, sweetheart.”
He slid out of the bed, gathering his clothes from the floor and ambling up to Bellinor fully nude.
“Take care of her,” he said, kissing him on the cheek.
He gave her a wink before sauntering out the door, leaving them alone.
The silence was deafening, the room suddenly stifling as Rul’s easygoing energy left with him.
When Bellinor didn’t make a move, she got out of bed, hurrying to her dress and sliding it back on.
As she tightened the laces in back, she saw Bellinor eyeing her with a smirk.
“What?”
He cocked his head, though the smile didn’t leave his face.
“You continue to surprise me.”
She narrowed her eyes, brushing off the front of her dress.
“Oh? How so?”
“You’ve been here so short a time and you’re already giving in. So different from our normal toys.”
Her temper flared as it always seemed to do around this monster, and she settled her face into a glare.
“Would you rather me scream and fight?”
Bellinor was silent for a moment before striding over. His arms were tensed at his sides, like he was trying to control himself, a thought which exhilarated her more than frightened her.
A part of her wanted to push him until he gave her what she needed, the pleasant haziness of her time with Rul already fading, bringing back the feelings she didn’t wish to endure any longer.
“I do enjoy when you try to fight, but a willing toy is so much better.”
Arousal pooled in her center, the warmth spreading quickly though she tried to ignore it.
“You’re awful,” she said, pushing against his chest.
He gave her a look like she had surprised him, like she was his pet who’d just done something amusing.
It infuriated her, even more so because she was less disturbed than she should have been about the foul things he said.
The memory of running through the woods while the demon had chased her tingled her skin with illicit desire no matter how much she wished it didn’t.
“Did Rul give you what you needed?” he asked, ignoring her barb.
“What do you mean?”
Bellinor gripped her chin, running his thumb over her lips, still swollen from the use they’d gotten earlier.
“He’s an incubus. He knows exactly what people desire most and provides it for them. Did he fuck you adequately? Make that pretty little mind forget all of its troubles?”
She grabbed his arm, jerking his hand away from her face with a glower. Always so rude, and for what? What had she done to deserve this treatment?
“And what does he provide for you?” she asked, ignoring his prying questions.
Bellinor chuckled, though she could sense his discomfort and was pleased by the way he lacked an immediate retort. It took him a few moments to answer.
“Rul is an adequate companion.”
“Well, that’s not very romantic, is it?”
The look he gave her sent a shudder through her bones, like he wanted to destroy her.
“Romance doesn’t exist in le Voile. It is hedonism incarnate, the constant pursuit of excess.”
“And yet it’s been decades since you brought another human here. You must be very happy with him.”
She didn’t know why she was prodding him so much, but she couldn’t stop herself, even as he gave her a vicious glare.
“That is none of your business, and if you’re done questioning me about every little thing, perhaps we can eat the dinner I made for you.”
He said it through gritted teeth, his annoyance clear, though she cared little.
“Lead the way,” she said, gesturing dramatically, much to his chagrin.
Bellinor huffed, stalking toward the door without waiting for her. She gathered her skirt and hurried to catch up, leaving the red room behind and wondering when she would return.
Dinner was a tense and wordless affair, as if neither of them quite knew what to say to the other. The meal was simple compared to the extravagance of the previous night, though no less decadent. A thick steak, buttery chanterelle mushrooms, and a rich crème br?lée to finish it off.
“What did you and Rul get up to today?” Bellinor asked as she picked at the remains of her dessert, breaking the awkward silence.
Isabelle looked up at him, the uncomfortable smile telling her he was trying to be nice. Or at least she thought so.
“He showed me le Voile…”
His eyes widened for a split second before he composed himself, as if shocked by her answer.
“And what did you think?”
“It was terrible.”
“It is terrible.”
Isabelle frowned, melancholy permeating through the intimate space, the candlelight flickering off his pale skin. Jean-Phillipe. He was a man once, a man who looked like the creature sitting next to her, a beautiful man who had been sent to this Hell. For what? As punishment? Revenge? Justice?
“How did you survive out there?” she asked, recalling the overwhelming despair that had enveloped her just by merely looking upon the endless void.
“It wasn’t easy…” he said, trailing off with a shrug. “I didn’t give in to anguish. I refused to let… le Voile win.”
Somehow, the fact that he’d persevered on pure spite didn’t surprise her in the slightest.
“Do you spend much time earthbound?” she asked, trying not to seem like she was fishing for information.
Bellinor shook his head.
“No. Not anymore.”
“Why not? Why not stay there?”
“I don’t belong there. Your world does not want me anymore. Besides,” he said, gesturing to the room. “I created all of this. Why would I ever want to leave?”
Perhaps to stalk and kidnap an innocent woman? Which still made little sense to her.
Isabelle stifled the riposte on the tip of her tongue.
“Some of the rooms are quite strange.”
Bellinor chuckled.
“That is true. I suppose I combated le Voile with absurdity, with crafting a space that was functional and… otherworldly.”
“So, there was nothing here before this?”
She still didn’t understand how he could have so much power here. And if this was the Hell the priestesses had lectured on, where was everyone else? People like… people like her father. People who had sinned.
People like her.
“No, there was nothing here. Nothing like this, at least.” He eyed her empty plate, not noticing the way she gripped her hands into her thighs, simulating the pain of the cilice he had taken from her. “You’re done. Come.”
Isabelle swallowed hard, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he stood and held a hand out to her.
“Where are we going?”
“Your room.”
She took his hand, letting him pull her out of the chair and lead her toward the door.
“Why?”
A seed of arousal was sown, his arm linking with hers and sending unbidden heat to her center.
“I have something to show you.”
As they entered her room, anticipation prickled on the surface of her skin, completely unsure of what to expect.
The conversation at dinner had been strangely polite, all things considered, with no indication that he wanted to ravage her as soon as they breached the terminus of her domicile.
Far different from the lonely meals in her cottage with only the crackling fire to keep her company.
“Well?” Bellinor asked, cutting through the tense silence and nodding toward the corner of the room. “What do you think?”
She followed his gaze to an easel with a blank canvas sitting atop it. A table next to it held a set of paints and brushes, all the supplies she could need and identical to the ones she had back home.
Isabelle walked over to the setup, stroking her fingers over the materials to make sure they were real before turning back to Bellinor.
“What is this?”
He shrugged, following and eyeing her carefully like he was observing her reaction.
“You asked me what you were supposed to do here. I assume you enjoy painting from the supplies in your cottage, though I’m not entirely sure what’s so amusing about smearing color on canvas.”
Somehow he’d remembered the half-finished artwork in the dark corner of her room that first night he’d followed her home, a detail most surely would have missed, though his little quip grated on her.
“And you said that I’m only here to serve you.”
Now his eyes met hers, twinkling with amusement.
“We don’t require your services all the time, though if Rul had his way, that might be true.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to be quelled by this small moment of kindness. It didn’t come close to making up for everything else.
“Why did you do this for me? I thought you wanted to make my life miserable.”