Page 372 of Phobia
Chapter 4
Bedtime couldn’t come fast enough. Maman was finally asleep in her own room next to Papa, who was snoring like a steam engine.
Now was the time.
I bolted out of bed and quickly tied my robe over my nightgown, which contained the vial of love potion in one of the pockets. With my shoes in hand, I tip-toed quietly to the front door. Even though I opened it carefully, the old wooden door creaked, causing me to grind my molars together while I paused to see if anyone had heard anything.
Success.
I made it out the door and shoved my feet into my shoes before scurrying to the cemetery. I moved rather clumsily as I jogged through the forest, without regard for the thorns and sharp branches that whipped against my neck. The scrapes and scratches stung as sweat dripped down my skin from exertion, but I didn’t stop to tend to my wounds.
I sprinted all the way to his spot, but he wasn’t there. I looked around, hoping I hadn’t missed him for the night, but an opened bottle of rum was next to his usual spot. And I could smell smoke—still fresh.
He was nearby.
My eyes strained, but the silver crescent moon overhead made it difficult to see far. In the distance, a dark figure moved. I watched as his cloaked form glided between tombstones. His top hat tipped down as his head bowed like he was inspecting each of the forever-residents, ensuring that their homes were in pristine condition. Every so often, he would kneel and dust his hand along a stone, removing what I imagined to be dirt or sediment that had accumulated over time. His focus was fascinating.
Perhaps he was the undertaker or groundskeeper, but that wouldn’t explain why he needed to be out here in the middle of the night. Perhaps he was worried intruders would try to dig up a body or two. Weren’t there those weirdos who had the hots for corpses?Necro-something. I’d bet nighttime was when they did their best work.
My morbid thought elicited a sudden laugh from my chest that even surprised me when I heard it. Bastien ceased moving, his back to me. He knew I had come back for more of him.
I quickly extracted the love potion from my robe and spilled the entire contents into the bottle of rum.
“All you need is one drop on his tongue,” Madame Laurent had said. Screw that. I needed the whole damn vial for such a large specimen of a man. My body ached for things that I didn’t know too badly to play around with scant dosing.
I shoved the empty vial back into my pocket and straightened my clothes as if I hadn’t just drugged my lover.My lover?Did one kiss qualify him for that title?
Bastien turned to face me. Even though I couldn’t see his face clearly, I could tell he was staring at me from the way my skin pebbled under my gown.
He stalked toward me on long legs, like I was prey and he was a starving predator. With every step, my core buzzed with more and more frantic anticipation.
He stopped three steps short of me, his gaze raking over my body. His tongue swiped his lower lip as he registered the droplets of sweat that trailed down my scraped neck to the valley hidden underneath my clothes, like he was thirsty for it.
I was unsure how to approach him—this beast of a man. Eyes dark like the sky and skin smooth like obsidian.
“Yeh owe me a kiss for not visiting,” he growled. Now that he was closer, I noticed the irritation that had tensed his shoulders.
I started, “I’m sorry for not coming, but I—”
“I didn’t ask for an excuse, little girl. I gave yeh an order.”
Like a magnet, I couldn’t resist his pull. I lunged into his arms and brought his face to mine, planting a kiss on his lips. But they didn’t move, nor did they part to welcome me in. They remained rigid like his body.
I pulled back, only to find his hard glare. “Are you angry with me?”
Disentangling himself, he walked around me and back to his tree. His over-sized body folded at the waist and grabbed the bottle of rum. My breath caught as he took a swig. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid worked its way down.
He held the bottle up to his eyes and examined it. Suddenly, he poured the contents out onto the ground, carefully watching the stream of fluid spill out. The love potion had been clear, so there was no way to know anything had been added—unless he had tasted it.
Shit! He had tasted it.
Wild eyes flashed at me as he chucked the empty bottle at my feet. I watched it roll on the ground beside me. Without warning, he rushed me. His hands were on me, pushing me to the ground. The scream that escaped my lips came out like a squawk—high and grating. I beat against him, trying to push his massive weight off me. “Bastien, stop!”
His hat tumbled during our row. My dress rode up my thighs. His own muscular thigh wedged itself between my legs. I wriggled to shake him off, but it was no use. He was too big, too powerful.
He pressed his leg flush against my apex and rubbed me off on him, his motions rough, but rhythmic.
“What are you doing?” I gritted out, frustration and pleasure warring with each other.
