Page 35 of Vengeance Becomes Her

“Donotcall me that.”

Her breath was coming in quick pants. Suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in her lungs. She scrambled to her feet avoiding his gaze. She didn’t say anything or look at him as she nearly ran back to her house.

Her mind reeled. It was as if the ghost of Silas had found the perfect moment to throw her off-kilter.

Once she was inside her home, she went straight to the bath, hoping the warm water would calm her. She paced as the sizable basin filled slowly. Finally, the tub was full enough and she allowed the hot water to envelope her body in a cocoon of comfort. Soaking away the dirt and distress from her skin, and most importantly, the smell of Tristain that clung to her.

But there was nothing she could do to chase away the memories of Silas that had started to creep in. While the nickname sounded so different from Tristain’s lips, it still brought it all back. The way Silas would whisper it against her neck as he pulled her into his arms. The way he would let the letters rumble from his chest when she was being stubborn, melting away her resolve and replacing it with pure heat.

The memories that let the choked sobs finally break through her lips were the ones where he’d used it to convey his commitment to her.

“My mother will adore you, Rhia.”

“You’ll love the grand library back home, Rhia.”

“There is no one else like you, Rhia.”

“I’ll never let you go, Rhia.”

The echo of his deceptive words was almost enough to pullher back under.

By the time she felt stable enough to move, her fingers and toes were pruned and the water had gone cool. She shuffled to her bed, sore and tired. Her initial shock and fear had dissipated, but she couldn’t shake the heaviness that clung to her with thoughts of Silas swimming around in herrestless mind.

She tried to read. She kept losing track of the words. She couldn’t sit still either. She felt uncomfortable in her skin. Just thinking of Silas made her feel tainted. When she couldn’t take the anxiety crawling over her like tiny bugs, she opened a bottle of wine. She didn’t even bother with a glass, she just took the bottle with her back to the bed.

About half the bottle in, she finally drifted off to sleep.

And finally, something good happened that day. The red-haired woman returned to her.

Rhiannon.

Her melodic voice echoed around in the hollows of Rhiannon’sdreaming mind.

“You need to be careful. He can’t be trusted. He’s related to Silas, who knows what he’s capable of. Don’t be a fool. You’re stronger than this.”

Rhiannon was not in the mood to be scolded by what equated to a figment of her imagination tonight. Mostly because she knew she was right.

“You’re wrong. You don’t even know me and you don’t know him.”

The woman laughed.“I know more than you. Believe me.”

A beat of silence passed as Rhiannon decided on the right question to ask, but in the end, it was simple.

“How do you know anything about them? Why should I trust you?”

“Because. I’m Delphine. I’m Silas’ first victim.”

Red hair. Bright green eyes. Pale complexion. Undeniable beauty. Her conviction against Silas. It finally made sense. The confirmation rocked through Rhiannon despite her suspicions, forcing her to wakefulness. She hadn’t wanted to believe it was possible, but there was no denying it now. Her heart was thudding so hard she couldn’t hear the insects that usually serenaded her throughout the night.

She didn’t know how or why Delphine had found her but the fact that she wasn’t a figment of Rhiannon’s imagination brought her great comfort despite everything. She hadn’t conjured up the woman to cope with her trauma, her mind was more intact than she thought. Although it was slightly disturbing that Delphine could communicate with her in this way.

Rhiannon had so many questions to ask her, she couldn’t sleep—most of all, whether she would be able to help her with the tincture like she suggested. Her mind ran in every direction as she laid there staring into nothingness until the sun rose and dawn’s light blinded her tired eyes.She could only hope that Delphine would return to her soon, they had much to discuss.

When Tristain came searching for her hours later, she intended to let him knock until his arm tired. But he was insistent. She sent him away, telling him she wasn’t feeling well. She was exhausted and overwhelmed, and it was still difficult to look at him without seeing Silas after yesterday. She needed space and time to process the revelations of the evening before. As unbelievable as it should be, she knew the connection to Delphine was real. Now Rhiannon needed to figure out what she wanted and how she could convince her to help.

But not now. She needed to sleep. It wasn’t a complete lie, what she told Tristain. She felt sick from the stress and adrenaline that had pounded through her on and off throughout the night.

She’d deal with everything when she woke up. For now, she turned to the darkness for solace. It folded her into a lover’s embrace as her eyes grew heavy and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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