Page 96 of The Fallen
That’s how they had found her family. ThroughLady Lucretia’ssoiree.
“The next one is this,” he said, pointing to a newspaper. “A ball at Greenwich.”
Belladonna's gaze followed his finger. “Then, that’s where we’ll be. Lying in wait for them.”
The demon’s lips twitched. “Will you show them any mercy knowing the leader of the cult is married to one of your kin?”
“No,” she said coldly.
Belladonna had been as surprised as anyone when Lucretia had extended an invitation. A far-off relation, Lucretia had married into wealth and had become distant as the moon. Belladonna had always suspected that Lucretia harbored a deep-seated resentment, a jealousy born from Belladonna's inherited magic, a gift that Lucretia had craved but never possessed.
How foolish she had been to believe that Lucretia's invitation was a gesture of reconciliation when it had been a carefully laid snare. Belladonna had fallen for the trap, revealing her magic in front of Lucretia's husband, a vile man she now knew was the leader of a sinister cult. It had been a fatal mistake to rekindle the candlelight when the lamps had gone out, a move that had guided Lucretia's husband straight to their doorstep.
"She had planned it all. To give him proof, to expose us, to destroy us.” Anger flared within Belladonna’s voice. "Mercy cannot be given to evil. To do so would be like offering a serpent a bouquet of lilies. It would only embolden its venom."
“Do no fret, mistress. I shall make sure they don’t receive any.” A devilish smile graced his mouth, as if he were tasting the sweet nectar of her vengeance. "I will be their doom, their final reckoning."
“That better be the truth.”
“Of course,” he said. “You’re already aware that our kind cannot lie.”
Desmond bent on one knee, his eyes burning blue fire. He raised her hand to his lips, and Belladonna drew in a sharp breath. As he sealed his promise through a black kiss, a shiver raced down her limbs. He would be her final reckoning too.
CHAPTER 3
The carriage lurched forward, its wheels crunching on the cobblestones. Belladonna clutched the velvet seat cushion, her heart pounding in her chest. She was disguised as a wealthy noblewoman, her face masked by a veil and her identity hidden beneath a wig and elaborate gown.
Desmond, dressed in a tailored black suit, sat beside her, his arm casually draped over the back of the seat. "Ready?" he asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be.”
As the carriage trod through the village, she couldn't help looking at him. Desmond in that tailored black suit was a sculptor's dream, his form a masterpiece of muscle and bone. The fabric clung to him like a second skin, revealing the hard planes of his physique. She wondered how his body looked like underneath. The image conjured in her vision, and she mentally slapped herself.
Focus, she told herself.
"I hope Lucretia doesn't find out it's me," she said.
Desmond gave her a long look. "Well, she most certainly will notice you. It is hard not to." His heated gaze lingered on the golden tresses of her wig, her black and crimson laced gown,the choker around her neck. He nearly devoured her the way he looked at her. She looked away, breathing hard.
"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low.
Belladonna's cheeks flushed. "Thank you." She tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart was racing. “I was curious…”
“Yes?”
“What happens after we find the cult?"
"Then we shall eliminate them swiftly, of course."
“That’s not what I mean.” She dared to glance up. "What happens after that...?"
"I trust you haven't forgotten our contract terms."
A soft, bitter laugh escaped her. "So it all ends then."
Desmond paused for a moment. "Yes, mistress."
His words stung her like a lash. "How will you take it? Does it hurt?"
