Page 29 of The Assassin and the Libertine
Beneath the blood rushing through my ears, his voice carried like a devilish hymn.
“Do you like to watch, Duchesse?”
His movements slowed as he caressed his abdomen and stepped toward me. His hands were on the buttons of his breeches, undoing them one by one. I needed to leave—to put a stop to this, go get dressed, and find Jeanne’s killer. Restore my place in The Order. Figure out what the blood plague was actually doing to my city.
Why wasn’t I leaving?
Étienne’s breeches slid down his hips and to the floor. My breath shuddered on an exhale as he stood before me, naked, sinfully handsome, visibly aroused. He grinned down at me, fangs extended, hazel eyes glowing. He stepped into the large copper tub facing me, and began a slow, predatory drift in my direction.
Get out, my brain screamed.Get out of the tub, Daphne. This is wrong. He is a libertine and a rake. He will throw you over when he is done, and you will be just another one of his conquests.
I stood abruptly, water sloshing down my naked body. Modesty forgotten in the face of my anger, I stepped from the tub and pulled a towel from the chaise. Instantly, Étienne was behind me again, pressing his hard body against my back. His arms snaked around my waist.
“Have you not come to care for me, Duchesse?” Étienne whispered against my neck. “At least a little?”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“No,” I breathed.
He chuckled at the lie.Merde.
Soft, wet lips pressed against the back of my neck. Desire and wild curiosity paralyzed me. I couldn’t believe he’d had the temerity to enter my bedchamber in the first place, let alone the brazenness to strip before me and insinuate himself in my watery sanctuary. I fought to ignore the heady thrill I felt at the press of his hard cock against my backside. It was almost dizzying feeling how much he wanted me.
What would it be like?To be with a man who wasn’t Henri, to feel intimacy without pain and humiliation, to have a man touch me with more than his own pleasure in mind, to be worshipped and caressed, and not used or brutalized.
His cool body sent little shockwaves of pleasure through me when he brushed against my skin. He ground his hips harder against me and he let out a guttural moan that made heat pool at my core. When my lips parted, the bridled tension between us snapped, and he whirled me around to crush his mouth to mine.
His kiss was rough with urgency, his soft lips covering mine entirely. He was a man dying of thirst in a desert and I was his only oasis. I’d never felt such passion before, having longbelieved that after Henri, that part of me was a cold hearth full of ashes. My desire rekindled, some distant joy erupted within.Perhaps there is hope for me yet.
My thoughts of protest seemed to dilute in the ocean of lust swirling between us. He shoved one hand into my hair, scattering pins across the floor. He pulled at my curls gently, massaging my scalp with his fingertips. I whimpered at the exquisite pleasure of it. His lips left mine and he kissed my jaw, working his way down. His other hand stroked my breast beneath the towel, lightly at first, then with more insistence. He rolled my puckered nipple between his fingers and I became a bottomless pit of sexual need.
Then, came that eerily familiar, warm wet stroke along my neck as he licked me.
Just like his night of madness—his poisoned mind. The shame of that night returned to me—the thought of wanting him even when he was sick and disturbed.Dieu.What did that say about me?It says you will probably suffer the same fate as your brother—too easily seduced by a man who will turn you out when he’s done with you.
I flinched and froze. As quickly as it had come, my lust evaporated. He stopped immediately, pulling away with a question in his eyes.
“Daphne, what?—?”
I pulled away and shoved him back—hard. His eyes widened with shock and offense.
“I cannot do this,” I ground out through gritted teeth. Shame and guilt powered my anger and I stood before him, wrapping the towel tightly around me like some kind of armor against my own desires. “I will not do this. I will not be another woman who lines up before you to be fucked and feasted upon. I will not fall prey to your charms just so you can use me and take from me and then discard me like some forlorn, dried-up huskof a woman. I am more than food. I am more than a warm place to put your cock. I am more than some gossip-trading courtier looking for a tryst. My purpose on this Earth is greater than your base needs, Monsieur, and you shall remember that from now on or so help me God, I will stake you and not bother to brush your dust from my skirts.”
“Daphne, wait! What happened?” he called, but I had already stormed from the room.
It occurred to me in some vague part of my mind that I was—perhaps—overreacting. Perhaps I was punishing Étienne for the sins of Henri and the tragedy of Michel’s death, and that I was frightened—not because Étienne was a vampire, but because he’d awoken things in me that I’d long assumed dead or destroyed. Yes, all of these things whispered through me, but the most resounding thoughts were sheer instinct.Protect, endure, survive.
Eve helped me dress in a plain gown of lavender silk. Like last night, I pinned up my curls and comforted myself with a variety of weapons tucked against my body. When I met Étienne in the drawing room downstairs, he said nothing—simply nodded and escorted me to the waiting carriage. His expression was unreadable, but his manner was dark, as if he were being followed by a little black raincloud. It didn’t do much for my own feelings of anxiety, and a whisper of regret went through me.
We drove down a street in a shabby neighborhood of Paris, lined with prostitutes calling out to men. Unbeknownst to Étienne, I was already familiar with the area, having had to come collect Henri from countless dens of iniquity when he’d rendered himself senseless from opium or alcohol. My stomach soured when I remembered it. I felt overwhelmed by regret and shame. When I’d refused to allow Henri to torture me and torment the ladies of my household, he inevitably wound up here, visiting his evil upon women too disadvantaged to say no.It broke my heart and made me feel sick at the same time. I onlyjustmanaged to convince myself that my queasiness had nothing to do with the jealousy over Étienne coming here to be with other women.
“Why have we come here?” I demanded. “Is your would-be assassin a prostitute? Is that how you feed?”
He laughed at me then. A warm, full-throated chortle that crinkled his eyes and showed his dazzling white teeth. I would have felt abashed if some part of me wasn’t charmed by how sweet and boyish he looked in a light mood.
“What an inappropriate question! Are you jealous, Duchesse?”
“Don’t be absurd. I simply want to know why you’ve brought me here.”
