“Well,” he started, gathering the half-finished gown draped across the settee. “You did warn her about the Beast. And youare not him. So my reasoning stands more true than yours. You saved a Goddess’s life. That’s got to be good for something in your future.”
I sighed heavily, following the pull to her side. I fell into the chair by her bed, looking over the wound. In three days it had healed quickly, but the puncture wounds remained, albeit shriveled into mere pinpricks. Disappointment settled into my chest. She wouldn’t need me like she had for the past few days when I’d kept her fever at bay. She wouldn’t need my mouth on her any longer, and I was a bastard for wanting her to.
“There’s a bit of bread and butter on the cart if you’re hungry. I’d like to get some rest myself before the day begins if you’ll stay?—”
“Go. I’ve got it from here. Thank you, Piffle.”
“Her gown,” he said, patting at another bundle of fabric I hadn’t noticed. “If she would like to dress before I’ve returned.”
I waved him away, running my fingers through my hair.
After he left, I crawled into the bed.
I’d get one more night,Goddess help me.
I settled in beside her, careful not to jostle her too much and wake to what I was sure would be the wrath of a Goddess.
Her skin had paled in the three days she’d fought the Beast’s bite, but as I brought my arm back around her waist again, pulling her to me, a flush of pink rose on her cheeks. I huffed heavily out of my nose, warming her skin and she hummed in return, still in her dreams where I could not get to her.
“Reshina,” I whispered softly, placing my mouth over her wound one more time. Her body turned into mine as my lips traced over her skin.
She’d hate me come morning.
HateI could handle.
Losing her, I couldn’t and never would.
I wondered, watching her chest rise and fall, if she dreamt ofher life. Of her past lovers tracing their mouths over her skin, or if it was me she saw in her dreams.
I was a man who’d been intrigued by her story for decades.
And now, I was a man obsessed.
And obsession was the exact reason my death was the best option. For both our sakes.
CHAPTER 23
Reshina
“This material is divine,Piffle. Where did you come across something like this so quickly?” I admired the fit in the long washing room mirror. The fabric was a soft black velvet embroidered in hundreds of wine red rose buds. It fit better than anything I’d made or commissioned myself, and with the slight drape of the long sleeves at my wrist, I wondered if Piffle had measured all parts of me in my sleep.
“When I saw it last year, I knew I must have it,” he said with giddiness. “It was the first dress I got to work on right away. Two more are almost finished, including one I think the Master will–”
“Where is Arthur?” I interrupted, sitting to pin my hair into my crown. The effort made my arms weak, and I had to stop with it halfway atop my head. Four days of rest and nothing but sips of broth had brought me to an exhaustion I’d never experienced before.
“He’s up there,” Piffle said casually, pointing toward the vaulted ceiling. “He wants to show you something today if you’re up for it. He’s just getting some things ready.”
“Something above the surface?”
“No. Something for you to do.”
I took the cup of tea he handed me, sipping and contemplating my next moves. Once my strength returned, I could attempt my escape again. Five days wasn’t too long of time lost and Morella would soon be visiting her brother anyway. Neither of my children were ever too concerned about my lengths of absence, nor were they in need of me in that time. They had each other—I’d made sure of it.
If I could get away from the grounds within the next two weeks, I’d at least be able to see Morella off before her marriage. And as long as I bled on the grounds before the Beast could bite me again, I wouldn’t be so weak for so long. I wouldn’t need Arthur’s mouth to pull the fever from my body.
When I’d woken that morning, he’d been pacing near the fireplace. As soon as I’d called his name, he’d left and Piffle arrived less than a minute later. But I had questions for him that I planned to get answered.
Piffle brought over a plate of small treats. Cookies iced with a sugary glaze, brambleberries filled with rich chocolate. I bit into one, relishing in the tart of the berry mixed with the decadent chocolate. “My son’s wife would love these,” I mentioned offhandedly, thinking of some way I could get them to her.
