Page 77 of Nightshade

“And you are deemed evil. Why? Because you are not like the rest of them?”

“They fear what they do not understand. I could say the same for you, Lustina.” A glance over his shoulder showed the tension rising up to his stiff jaw. “Why do they punish you, when you have never brought any offense against them?”

“Because my mother was a witch,” she said under her breath.

“Your mother was no more a witch than any of their precious mothers.”

As much as she longed to smile at his comment about her mother, the thought of her senseless death still weighed heavy on her heart. “Every night, I pray for her soul. To their god. To the ones my mother believed in. Whoever will listen, I ask that she be granted mercy for any wrongs she committed in this life.”

“You do not need to worry for your mother. She is fortunate to have left this unforgiving world.”

“I would like to think so, My Lord. I would like to think somewhere better exists.” When she tilted her head back, she noticed what appeared to be drops of blood on the ceiling, and quickly looked away.

“You believe in the afterlife, then?”

“I suppose. Though, I do not believe only those who lead perfectly pristine lives are granted entry. I believe in an afterlife which accepts all, regardless of their transgressions.” Lustina stepped toward him and gathered the loose, hanging braids of the whip into her palm.

He tipped his head, guiding her eyes back to his. “What is it?”

Lustina captured one of the knots in the whip, imagining the harsh strike of it across her skin. “What does it feel like? This pain?”

“You wish to experience my punishment?”

“Yes.”

He ran his finger down her exposed skin, inciting shivers and goosebumps. “A whip like this would wreak havoc on such innocent flesh. And are your own wounds not newly healed?”

“They are, My Lord. Are your wounds not fully healed each time they subject you to these torments?”

Something flickered in his eyes, and he ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth. “You must be masochistic to imagine such things.”

Ignoring his question, she gathered all of the braids into her hand. How cold the leather. How callous the knots. “Does it feel like an eternity to you? One long stretch of the infernal?”

“As of late, my thoughts are wrapped up in you, and as such, I do not notice the pain nearly as much. Or I welcome it, if only to imagine it as my suffering just to see you again.” He reached out for a strand of her hair, which he let slip through his fingers. “Why do you not accompany the bishop anymore?”

“He forbade me. Said I was far too unclean to set foot inside your home.”

“And yet, you are the only one who does not make me ill to set eyes upon.”

As he reached out for her, she ducked from his touch in play, putting the chains that hung from the ceiling between them. “You say they fear you.” She ran her fingers down the thick, seemingly unbreakable links. “It seems you could do exceptional damage, if you were so ambitious.”

Those piercing blue eyes watched her, like that of an animal. “I suppose I could, yes.”

“Why don’t you? Why allow them to perform these experiments, as you called them?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Your mother.”

“She is certainly one of them, yes.”

“I can understand that.” Lustina reached up for the chains and looked over her shoulder at him. “Show me, Jericho.”

Something lit in his eyes, and before she could lower her arms, he shackled them to the binds. Hand crossing over her throat, he tipped her head back into his chest and ran his thumb along her jaw. “Say my name again.”

“Jericho.”

“Your scent … that deliciously immaculate scent. So pure.” An ache blossomed in her jaw where he pressed his thumb harder. “The way it taunts me relentlessly. It is not right, this violence you incite in me. This desire to hurt at the mere sound of my name on your lips.”