Page 122 of Chain Me
“I’m just glad that you were honest with me,” I whispered. “My bet was that Raphael couldn’t guess your reaction, and I was right.”
He eyed the paper, scanning the words written on it. A simple phrase in retrospect.
What would Dublin do should I dare to throw my life away on a whim? If I dared to forsake everything he’d sacrificed? If I so much as dreamt of betraying my trust in him?
Nothing short of what I would deserve, I supposed.
He would kill me.
His eyes shot up to mine and I was in his arms within an instant. Our lips met and I tasted salt as my tears flavored the kiss. I was shaking, clinging to him with everything I had as the full weight of what I’d done crashed over me.
In the midst of the turmoil, I almost didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. But the slow, callous clapping drew our notice. I stiffened as Dublin’s grip shifted into a protective vise.
“Beautiful,” Saskia said, her teeth bared in a snarl. Her features seemed grim without the aid of makeup, beneath the harsh, silvery lighting. “So beautiful. So pathetic. So pointless.” She laughed, sweeping her gaze from me to Dublin. “I sensed her condition the second I touched her, and yet I didn’t tell Raphael. Do you want to know why? No revenge that he nor I could plan would ever match the cruelty ofthis.”
She gestured my way with a wave of her hand. “Your Mero is quite the sadistic bastard. She’s broken, unable to be turned, but still doomed to die. I could taste her fate like sugar on my tongue.” She licked her lips pointedly, her eyes glowing. “And yet you, dearest Cael... You will get to watch her grow old and haggard. You’ll get to watch her die, knowing you can’t ever slow the relentless march of time. And I will be there to witness every fucking second of it.”
She turned on her heel, her laugh echoing throughout the chamber in her absence.
Even as Dublin led me from the warehouse entirely, it echoed.
I couldn’t ignore it.
Life or Death?
My stunt with Dmitri cost me nearly a full week of freedom. In the chaotic aftermath, Dublin shadowed my every movement. To be fair, it wasn’t a particularly unbearable imprisonment.
I was allowed to leave the house at least, if only in the company of my new team of drivers. François had returned from wherever Dublin had held him all this time, looking none too worse for wear—but joining him in the garage was a figure I recognized the moment I spotted him across the foyer one morning.
He stood near the entryway, his hands folded before him, his eyes warily watching my approach. If I’d still felt any anger toward him for deceiving me, all of it faded the instant I saw his face.
“Harper!” I broke decorum—and Gray tradition—by crossing to him and throwing my arms around his shoulders. If I wasn’t mistaken he squeezed me in return, just once before withdrawing to a respectful distance and inclining his head.
“At your service, Ms. Gray.”
Dublin could be good for something apparently. In addition to Harper’s return, he had also ensured that Mr. Tinkles was returned to his private suite and that a majority of the staff was quietly reinstated.
But overall, he was a corrupting presence.
Poor Gray Manor. My childhood home, once the pinnacle of emotionless, joyless living. For so long, the dust-covered walls had witnessed sex in only the most passionless form, as God intended.
But my Devil was so much more creative. By the fourth day, we’d corrupted at least three bedrooms. And the downstairs drawing room.Andthe alcove where the phone was kept in what had begun as a serious attempt to stock the pantry.
After that, Dublin retreated to the kitchen, and I—in an effort to return to normalcy—retreated to my room, ran a brush through my hair, and slipped into a robe.
Down the hall, I peered into a room where Yulia was dutifully keeping vigilance over a figure lying in the bed. “She’s still sleeping,” she said as I eyed Georgie’s gently rising chest. “If she wakes up again, I’ll let you know.”
Whatever Mero had done to her had drained her body of all energy. Dublin claimed she would recover with time, but consciousness returned in ebbs and flows.
“I promise,” Yulia insisted with a nod. She eyed my ensemble and winked. “I’m sure you’re hungry, and I can smell something cooking.”
When I approached the kitchen, sure enough, the scent of spices and cooking meat had my mouth watering. Even before I drew even with the figure busily at work behind the counter and realized one of two very important things.
The lesser item was that he was doing something incredible with his hands, manipulating a knife through various vegetables at once. The other realization was that he was stark, unashamedly naked.
I should have been appalled, I supposed. Yulia or my sister could intrude at any time, but Dublin was well aware of the limits of my manor and its occupants’ positions.
As well as the fact that it was impossible to hear anything occurring in this section of the house from the wing containing my bedroom.
