Page 5
A rustle behind me forces me to spin around. Victor is there, just yards away, his breath short, and his face contorted. He stares at me with wide eyes.
“Evander!” he exclaims, dismounting with clumsy movements. His voice trembles. “Are you hurt?”
“You should not have followed me.”
He draws closer, closing the distance.
“Do not run away like that again... it serves no purpose.”
“You do not understand,” I retort, as my throat tightens once more.
He makes to move closer still, but I tighten my grip on Étoile’s reins and pass him without a look, heading straight for the manor.
I return when it is already dark, the pain in my ankle rising up my leg like a white-hot needle with every step.
Victor follows at a short distance, a silent shadow.
When we enter the small drawing room, the servants rush forward, but he dismisses them with a single, curt word. They stop instantly, retreating without protest.
I let myself fall onto the sofa. He moves with a precision that unsettles me.
“I must tend to you. It will be painful.”
“Are you a physician now?”
He kneels before me with a ceremonial slowness, as if he were about to pray.
“You are far too impertinent.”
His hands begin to touch me. He seizes the first boot, sliding his fingers over the wet leather without haste, drawing it off inch by inch.
“I am the Viscount of this estate. And you are merely an accountant.”
The second boot comes away with a wet thud. He watches me intently, and I try to turn my gaze elsewhere, but it is futile.
I feel exposed.
His hands move again. He touches my foot, his thumb tracing the arch of the sole, rising slowly until it stops just beneath my toes.
I grit my teeth. An involuntary reflex makes my leg twitch, and my breath hitches. He senses my reaction and freezes, yet he does not withdraw his hand. He stays there, listening.
A flash crosses his eyes and he rises slowly.
Every movement of his seems to have acquired a new weight. His breathing grows deep while I hold mine in a vain attempt to vanish into the cushions. I feel his gaze on my skin like a burn.
The walls of the room seem to close in, making the air unbreathable.
“Do not move.”
His tone is the lowest I have ever heard from him, possessed of a softness that makes me tremble.
He leans over me until his breath mingles with mine, hot and heavy.
The sickly aroma of cognac blends with the stale scent of cigars, tightening my stomach in a vice. A lock of his dark hair falls forward, brushing my cheek.
I search desperately for an escape with my eyes, but I find nothing but him. His hands travel up my arms and the air changes where they pass, becoming dense. Victor’s shadow covers me entirely, erasing the rest of the room.
I feel a desperate urge to scream, stifled only by the terror that such a sound might actually please him.
