Page 27 of Unseen

Azriel had seen me murder his father, and now he held all the cards. How could I have been so stupid? Tears burned my eyes as I imagined the horror of that sack being put over my face, the trap door giving way below me, to -

No.

I fought the hopelessness that washed through me, and stumbled for the dressing table. I would not be trapped by this bastard. I’d endured three years in a loveless marriage. I’d risked everything for my freedom, to finally have a life away from this cursed family and this cursed house. I wouldn’t have it taken from me now.

I pulled open the drawer of the dressing table, andsnatched up the fine ivory pocket knife that lay within. It wasn’t especially sharp, enough to slice an apple on a picnic perhaps, or cut an errant thread from a bonnet.

And it would be enough to slash Azriel’s throat.

Wind howled as I put my hand on the door handle, and I crept out into the hallway. It was very late, all the servants tucked away in bed. The carpets muffled my footsteps, and I made my way down the hall. The windows rattled in the gale, and rain began to patter against the glass.

Azriel’s room lay on the western side of the house, up another set of stairs.

They creaked softly underfoot, but no one was here to hear me. Only Azriel himself, who would by now be drunk and sleeping peacefully, I was sure. He’d refused George’s offer to be his valet, and now the servant’s quarters lay empty.

Azriel was all alone, and totally at my mercy.

I paused at his door, listening to the mournful wail of the wind, perhaps Acton’s ghost begging me not to do to his son what I had done to him.

I considered for a moment how I was going to conceal what I had done this time. Azriel was not an old man, and a slit throat was hardly a natural death for a healthy man of twenty-six. No, I would have to be much cleverer this time.

And what better way to conceal my crime than with fire? The servants would simply think he’d gone to sleep drunk, leaving an errant candle burning by the curtains. I would tell them how much I had seen him drink that evening, and they had all observed his half-crazed mood. It would surprise no one that Azriel Caine had gotten himself so drunk that he’d set himself on fire.

His room was positively cavernous, illuminated only by the light of a single candle by the window. So very close to the curtains, just as I had intended.

The imposing four poster bed in the middle of the room was hung with drapes that looked almost black in the dim light. The bed of the devil himself.

Azriel’s shallow breathing was barely audible over the sound of the rain and the wind. I moved closer to the bed, the knife clutched in my hand. There he lay, sprawled out in his nightshirt. His legs were bare, his head tipped back slightly. Totally at ease.

No idea what was about to happen.

My heart was pounding as I crawled onto the bed, holding out the knife, ready to strike if he woke. His breathing remained even. My nightgown rode up my thighs as I straddled him, not allowing my weight to rest on him.

My hand trembled slightly as I lifted the knife, pointing it at his throat.

I was a murderess. I was a monster, perhaps no better than he.

But I would be free of him this night.

“Didn’t think you had it in you.” The deep voice made my heart explode against my rib cage.

I almost screamed, jerking the knife away, but Azriel caught my wrist in one hand and my thigh with the other. I lost my balance, and landed on him with my full weight.

He chuckled in the darkness, shifting underneath me in such a way that I felt things I had no desire to feel.

“I’d dreamed of this moment, but I must say, the knife is a rather creative choice.” He grinned at me in the dim light, guiding my hand to press the blade of the knife harder to his throat. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I want to be free of you!” I hissed. “I want to be out of this house, and away from your wretched family.”

“I see.” He was so calm, gripping my naked thigh with his hand. “And you didn’t think it would look strange that boththe son and the father had been dispatched in such short succession?”

I laughed through my gritted teeth, and leaned into his face, enjoying the power of having a blade pressed to his throat far too much. “You’re a womaniser, and a gambler. You have enemies all over the world. No one would be surprised that Azriel Caine had been ended by a disgruntled husband.”

His brow furrowed as he considered this for a moment. “You make a valid point.”

The gasp was torn from my throat as his arms suddenly locked around my waist, and he flipped us over. He now lay on top of me, his full weight pressed between my thighs, and barely our night clothes separating us. The knife was still against his throat, and blood beaded at the very tip of it from where it had nicked him.

But it did not seem to bother him at all. He simply leered down at me, resting on his forearm, his other hand still on my waist.

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