I walk quickly back to her, but as I hunker down in front of her she flinches and whimpers, then squirms as if she’s terrified I might attack her.
I try to touch her forehead, but she leans away. She presses a hand protectively between her legs over the satin robe that clings to her body, as if she’s afraid I might try to force myself on her. I keep reaching out to touch her, slowly, my eyes fixed on her terrified face.
“Trust me,” I say softly. “I won’t hurt you.”
But she’s having a fit, she squirms and whimpers louder, and I’m afraid she’ll give us away in the end. I have to turn to another myth about vampires, one that happens to be true—hypnosis and mental manipulation.
I release the chemicals, imbuing my voice with them, too.
“You’re safe, Isolde. Always, by my side, you will be safe. You can trust me. You’re innocent. You’re pure. It’s Mark who’s filthy, he is scum.”
She relaxes, her whole body now mellow, and her eyelids falling heavy. Those long, curved eyelashes that glisten with water move slowly up and down, brushing the upper part of her cheeks when she closes her eyes. Fuck, this woman seems an angel, physically and emotionally abused by a creature so vile that he must have sprouted directly from the devil’s cock.
“I swear I’ll kill him for it,” I whisper. Isolde is still trembling from the cold, since she’s still wearing the wet satin robe underneath, but I figure this isn’t the right moment to insist that she should undress.
I sit gently by her side, so slowly that she barely notices the movement, and wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“I need warmth,” she whispers through white lips.
I hold her tighter. God. Her flowery scent creeps into my nostrils. Fuck, I can’t be so sick as to want this woman, especially in the state that she’s in, can I? To distract myself, I go to the bathroom to get a thick, fluffy towel, and start drying her hair with it. When I see that she’s warmer, I dare suggest that she takes off her wet bathrobe.
“I have to get back, and God forbid I don’t have it on,” she says. She can still barely speak, she’s depleted. I can’t resist the impulse, and take her in my arms again.
“We can dry it with the hair dryer later, and you can wear my things until then, but if you keep wet clothes on you, you’ll get sick. Listen, I’ll go get you something to eat, and make sure no one comes looking for you here. I saw serpents storming out onto the beach, so Mark thinks that you’ve escaped, and I’d have him keep thinking that for a while. In the morning, we’ll find a solution. My clothes are in the wardrobe, choose something, and change. We’ll deal with your clothes when I get back.”
She nods.
I put on dry pants and a shirt before I get out of the room, locking the door. I don’t want anyone discovering Isolde while I’m away to get her food. Not only because of what they might do to her, but because of what I’d do to them if they as much as touched her with a feather.
I don’t think I ever wanted to kill Serpaint more than I do now, not even after what he did to me. After all, I was an assassin who’d tried to kill the Devil’s Son with a special silver blade. I was a killer, maybe a villain, just like them. But Isolde, who can possibly see anything deserving of punishment in her? She is a white dove, a pure soul. My little white dove.
I can feel the electricity in my eyes as I walk to the kitchen, my jaw clenching. I’ll split Mark open right in front of Isolde, and I’m going to do it soon, but for now I need to stick to my plans. I can’t go swinging my blades at his men, decapitating all serpents happening in my way. I have to be strategic about it, and the rage of emotions I feel inside isn’t helping. It’s true, what my masters taught me all those years ago—emotion is weakness. I resolve to get a grip.
I muster all the self-control I can when I run into serpents. They’re worried, some even frantic, because they lost Isolde. I make sure everyone sees me, including the big alligator shifter, who’s in the main hall, organizing his men to go in search of Isolde. He gives me a suspicious glare.
I make sure he learns that I have no idea where Isolde is either, then I return to my chamber and lock it on the inside.
Isolde sits completely still on the edge of the bed, her gaze lost, looking out the window, at the pouring rain. She’s wearing one of my shirts, a white one that suits her angelic frame.
A brief sensation of fulfillment goes through me as I realize that I’m giving her a few moments of respite. But then I press my lips together—a few moments can’t possibly be enough. She needs to be free from this bastard, once and for all.
“You won’t ever have to be alone with him again, Isolde, I promise you.” I pull the coffee table close and set the food on it, in front of her. “I have a plan to free you from him, but you must play along.”
She keeps staring ahead, without aim and without hope. The violet bruises at the base of her neck, so clearly the coil of a serpent, makes anger re-surge inside me.
“What happened exactly?” I inquire. “Did he—” Fuck, the idea alone sends a stab through my gut. “Did he rape you?”
Isolde shudders, but then, to my relief, she shakes her head no.
“He hardly ever does,” she says. Her voice is small, faint, like that of a child. “He takes his pleasure from hurting me.”
“And how did he hurt you now?”
“Nothing close to what he did to you. In comparison, I’m ashamed I even broke down like that.”
I press my lips together. “He told you?”
She nods. “A few nights ago. When he can’t do things to my body, he does them to my soul. Telling me the story of your torture in detail was his entertainment a few days before—” She motions generally to herself, then her hand drops back into her lap as if it doesn’t matter. “Before he did this.”
Lightning splits the sky, flashing over Isolde’s beautiful but battered face. Hell, it hurts to look at her.
“Mark Serpaint is one of the most wicked creatures I ever came across,” I say through my teeth. “He deserves to be skinned alive. If you want, that’s what I’ll do to him, right before your eyes. I will avenge you, Isolde, I swear, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
She grabs my fingers in her fragile, cold hand. “No you won’t, and I don’t want you sticking around any longer, either. Just leave me, I’m collateral damage. But save the world from him. When you get the chance, ambush Mark with Lord Dracula’s men, but not now. You’re alone, a vampire among serpents, you don’t stand a chance.”
I want to snort, assuring her I’ve already thought of three ways of bringing the slimy bastard down, but I refrain. She’s probably safer not knowing. Look where knowing the secrets of Father Ruben has brought her. I don’t want mine to get her killed. I put my hand over hers.
“Isolde, listen carefully. Tomorrow, at breakfast, you’ll go into the dining room. You’ll tell Mark you will no longer take his abuse. You spent the night at a friend’s or something, and you’ve only come to pick up some of your things, then you’ll go again. That’s what you’ll tell him.”
She stares at me like I’m crazy. “Do what? He’s gonna lash at me.”