Page 88 of Emma & Edmund

"Or, grand idea, not be such a retched bitch?"

Emma saw red, and through the blur, threw her pillow at the floating man. "Get out."

"Oh, what now?" Molek planted both feet on her sheets, towering over Emma. "You destroy a man's very soul, and you feel as if you've somehow been wronged?"

"I have been. Byyou."

"Enough. You were waiting for the chance to flounce around on the arm of an earl. It only helped that the earl is completely, stupidly smitten. If he looked like any other man, everything could have played out in exactly the same fashion and you would have remained at Belmont, betrothed."

Emma opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out.

If Edmund looked like any other man, he could accompany her to the dress store. He could frequent the flower stalls and cake shops. He could go to the billiard halls and socialize like all the other men Emma knew.

But if Edmund looked like any other man, what else would be different? Would he be as vapid, cruel, and vain as those she grew up with? Would he, if on the other side, turn his back on her just as easily as them? Would he whisper behind his hands, leering at her like a fish behind glass?

Even as those thoughts form, Emma could not fully believe them. The Edmund she knew would never have said the things she has heard thrown her way. He wouldn't cower when her glare returned their harshness.

Just the mere thought of the hand he might have extended, the invitation that would have shown up at her door, melted her sour mood.

Edmund was a different breed. Not because of his oddness, but because of his soul. Pure in intentions, wildfire in execution.

And Emma loved him for it.

"Now you're understanding."

Gruff words pulled Emma from her thoughts, not even realizing tears had pricked her eyes. Turning narrowed eyes to the demon on her bed, Emma could barely choke out the words, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Throwing his hands in frustration, Molek let out a deep, wailing sigh.

"This conversation is exhausting, Emma."

"No," she spat, "you are! What do you have to gain from being here? Or does it merely fuel your unnatural soul to see both of us suffer?"

The lip curl of genuine disdain that Molek bore down upon her had her blood run cold, shaking her nerve. Bickering with him, she realized maybe a bit too late, was possibly not a battle of wits as she was used to. There was real evil behind his eyes.

"I'm the one suffering!" He pounced, bringing them nearly nose to nose, "I have waited nearly thirty years for my seed to bring me back from nothingness. I could lure any woman he wants to his bed, but will he let me? No! Will he even allow my dreams to happen if it is not you in them? No! Instead, he lets what little power your pathetic trysts threw my way seep through my fingers!

"Andyou. You cry and whine and mope about, moaning about how no one would want youwhen there is someone who does.And you love him back. You'd be with him now if only he looked as precious and blonde and breakable as every other man you've ever met."

Once again, Emma's mouth opened before a real sentence had even formed.

And the cutting one she had planned never came. Molek was vague, hellish, and weird, but he was not wrong.

She would have married him without another thought, and would have lived out her days, warm and desired in his loving embrace.

Emma would give anything to be in those arms again. She would forgo London, Margaret, the society she so longed to thrive in.

They all turned their back on her. Edmund had only uplifted her.

What was she waiting around for? For forgiveness that would never come? Love was too precious to wait a lifetime.

With a lip curl of her own, Emma finally addressed the seething demon in her bed.

"Bring me to Belmont."

Chapter 26

"Iknew it!" Elation rolling off him in waves, Molek nearly danced off the bed, landing feather-light on her rug.

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