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Could he truly be the fantasy that Peter nursed? The dream that one day an unwilling Master would infiltrate this castle. A man pretending to want such bad, bad things, all while biding his time, doing his best to fit in, passing back information so law enforcement could save us?
God, it was instant.
The whooshing, warming hope.
I clung to it.
Basked in it.
I didn’t care how ludicrous it sounded. I needed to believe in something, and if that something was him…then I would get on my knees and pray to him.
“Are you? Am I right?” I lowered my lashes, jolting as I noticed all over again that I was bare, and his fully-clothed body crowded me against the bookshelves. The bulge in his shorts pressed against my lower belly. His own stomach rising and falling with all the things he couldn’t confess and all the mistakes that’d happened.
I’d thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen back at the club. I’d been drawn to him in ways I couldn’t explain. He’d tarnished both those things with his actions ever since, but now…that beauty returned. That unfathomable connection simmered. If he truly was good masquerading as evil, then…he wasn’t just a man I’d been drawn to but the very salvation I needed.
How soon was someone coming?
How many officers would swarm this place?
Would they shoot every last one of Victor’s disgusting guests? Would they arrest them and interrogate them and line them up before a jury of their peers?
Suddenly, I was strong again. Ready to fight, endure, and survive.
I looked up, frowning when Henri didn’t reply.
His eyes had shut down, his face utterly unreadable.
My hope stuttered as quickly as it’d formed.
My fear returned.
Ily…you dolt.
My imagination had run away with me, like always.
I’d let hope bandage over panic, and the crash into truth hurt ever so much.
“Wow, I’m an idiot.” Horrified goosebumps scattered. “T-There’s no one coming to save us…is there.”
God…I’m so, so stupid.
Henri cursed hotly. “Bon dieu, tu vas me tuer.” (My God, you’re going to kill me.)
His slur sank like poison into my blood.
I trembled and fought another wash of unwanted tears.
His eyes snapped to mine; his entire face twisted. “If you cry again, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
I sniffed. Rubbed at my lashes.
A single droplet fell.
He snarled and fisted both hands into my hair, holding me completely still.
I flinched, waiting for abuse, for pain.
His tongue captured the slowly rolling droplet, drinking it down before a harsh gasp escaped him. “Goddammit, just listen to me. Do what I ask instead of making this so much harder.”
