“Gaining the trust of a human means giving our own trust to them. Except that humans are flawed. Many are lying, conniving, and shrewd. Some are flakey and irrational. All change their minds and are incapable of focusing or staying on course even for their short lives.”
“It’s part of human nature. We change, we question things, we adapt, and we grow. In the long term, nothing stays the same in our world.”
He returned his stare to me, crossing one leg over the other, which made the silk of his pants tightly hug the muscles in his thighs.
“Choosing just one Source creates a dependency that exposes an Incubus to a hurt none of us could take and remain unscathed.”
I did not expect this confession. Even less did I anticipate the Incubi’s ability to feel that deeply. After spending some time in Raim’s proximity, I only now started to interpret the slight changes in his expression that had been imperceptible to me before. I believed he was capable of emotion, but I still had no idea how deep his feelings could run.
“Therefore,” he continued, “feeding for an Incubus means opening himself to the emotions of a stranger. And there is no way to predict what chaos they would wreak inside a demon once he takes them in.”
Feeding carried a risk, and an Incubus didn’t have the choice of not feeding.
“Do you feel threatened when you’re taking my emotions?” I asked.
“I try to minimize the risk, by picking what I skim.”
“You can do that?”
“I have learned to sort through them. Not an easy task, as most people have a tangled knot of good, bad, and ugly emotions inside them, but I’ve had a millennium to practice.”
“So, which ones do you take from me, then?” I asked, watching another series of blue lights flash through his eyes. The effect was mesmerizing. The light blended with the brilliant blue of his eyes, reminding me of the way a light would play when bouncing between the facets of a diamond.
“Your enjoyment of the meal.” He pointed at my empty plate. “The contentment you feel while believing you’re safe in that room. Even the light buzz you’re about to get from that wine, I’ll take that, too.”
“Is there anything you wouldn’t take from me?”
His gaze grew darker, the crisp blue of his eyes turned to sapphire under his dropped eyelids.
“Your sexual attraction to me that is always pulsing in the undercurrent of all your emotions. Normally, I would stay away from that.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the ease of contentment slip as tension sat in.
“You flatter yourself,” I objected, even as I knew it was useless to deny what he could see with his own eyes. “I don’t believe it’s there. Well, not all the time, anyway.”
“I’ve seen this attraction in many people, thousands of times, Dee.” The nickname jolted at something raw inside me. At the same time, simply hearing it again, after so many years, brought up the warm memories of being with my family. “Sexual energy is the most satisfying nourishment an Incubus could obtain, yet it can be addictive and even dangerous if consumed thoughtlessly. Especially if it is laced with the feeling of personal attraction, like yours is.”
My cheeks heated with mortification, as if he had caught me doing something inappropriate.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t show up here half-naked then?” I pointed at his bare chest energetically, choosing attack as a means of defence once again. “Put a shirt on, would you?”
“I store most of my clothes in that room,” he gestured behind me. “Which I don’t have access to now.”
“Great!” I leaped out of my chair and rushed to the wardrobe. “Would it have killed him to say that before?” I mumbled to myself, sliding the clothes on the hangers along the bar with force. “Now it’s my fault that he’s been prancing around with nothing but some pants on.”
Very thin silk pants, too.
My first instinct was to grab just any shirt off the hanger, but then my gaze stopped at the red tunic I had admired days ago. The image of Raim wearing it came to mind again. Carefully taking it off the hanger, so as not to damage the delicate needlepoint around the neckline, I turned back to the door.
“Here you go.” I tossed it to Raim, who caught it.
“Better?” he asked, sliding the tunic over his head and straightening it around his torso.
The reality turned out to be even more stunning than the image I’d had in my mind. The silk smoothly skimmed the hard ridges of his chest and arm muscles. The shade of red complemented his skin tone and brought out the burgundy highlights in his mahogany hair.
Bare-chested or dressed—it didn’t seem to matter—he still managed to evoke all kinds of physical attraction in me.
“Sure.” I swallowed hard, not even trying to calm the warmth of appreciation that flooded my insides at this visual. Even if he missed my flushed cheeks, my admiration must have floated up to the surface from whatever inner ‘undercurrent’ he had been talking about.
The light flashing through his gaze took a pink hue, now. Obviously, he was not staying away from my attraction.
“I’ll need more.” His voice sounded especially low and husky. The deep vibration in it stroked through my chest and up my inner thighs with a tingling sensation.
“More of what?” I whispered for some reason, staring right at the middle of his chest, as I didn’t think I could handle his piercing stare at the moment.
“Clothes.”
I blinked, shaking off the warm fuzzy feeling that had descended over me.
Unlike me, Raim seemed to have kept his composure.
“This is my last clean pair of pants.” He slid his palm along his thigh. “So, unless you’re fine with me showing up here tomorrow without—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I groaned, stomping back to the wardrobe, actually being grateful to get out of his line of sight.
My attention went to a long, sky-blue tunic on one of the hangers. The sudden thought of how its colour would bring out the intense blue of his eyes made me reach for it. Then, instead of grabbing the first pair of pants from the neatly folded pile on the side shelf, I selected dove-grey ones. Holding both garments together, I found the combination of the two colours appealing, and I knew Raim’s shape and complexion would do this outfit justice.
“Here.” I put the folded clothes on the floor in the hallway, just past the barrier. “Wear these tomorrow.”
His gaze flickered to the clothes briefly.
“Would you like me to bring you your things, too?”
“My things?”
“I had your suitcase delivered a couple of days ago.”
“Days ago? And you’re telling me about it just now?”
“You didn’t give me a chance to say anything earlier—you didn’t speak to me,” he reminded. “Besides . . .” Something light and playful flickered in his eyes this time. “I love the way my clothes look on you.”
Instinctively, I touched the soft fabric of the tunic I was wearing, then another thought entered my mind.
“How did my things get here?” I asked.
“By helicopter.”
“The one that was supposed to be taking me back to Pisa?”
“Yes,” he replied simply, not a shred of remorse in his tone, not a word of apology for making me miss my flight. “I charter it to deliver supplies from time to time. If there is anything you need—”
“Unless it is coming to take me back to the mainland—” I cut him off.
“No.” He didn’t let me finish. “That is not why it will be coming here next time.”
“Then I don’t care about what it’ll bring.”
“Very well.”
“Here.” I put the table with the tray and the empty dishes out in the hallway again, but then snatched the bowl with dessert back. “I’ll keep that. Feel free to leave now.”
He picked up his clothes off the floor.
“Good night, Dee.”
“Don’t call me that!” I snapped. “
You have no right.”
I slammed the doors shut.
Listening to his footsteps fading into the distance, I realized I had made absolutely no progress in discovering the schedule of the boat.
Chapter 10
THE NEXT MORNING, I carefully opened one door, only one of the two halves. Raim was already there, with breakfast.
“Hi,” I mumbled, trying not to stare at him. The combined effect of the well-made clothes I chose for him last night and his phenomenal physique was outright blinding.
“Good morning, Dee.” He sat down in his chair as if it was business as usual.
I managed to tear my gaze away from the physical perfection that he was, but lingered instead of closing the door. I searched for a safe topic, one that was sure to keep me away from the sexual tension that ebbed and swelled all around us.
“How did you learn about my nickname?” I asked, holding on to the door.
“I overheard your father mention it once during my visit to The Priory for a meeting.”
“It was awfully careless of him.”
“He was obviously not intending for me to hear it,” he explained.
I shifted my weight to another foot.
“Why do you insist on using the nickname? To irritate me?”
“You are never irritated when I call you that,” he stated confidently.
“Really? Is that what you think?” I let go of the door, folding my arms across my chest. “If you truly believe I am not irritated and annoyed right now, your Incubus ‘sight’ is broken.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, too.
“Oh, you are most definitely annoyed at the moment.” He didn’t seem to be overly concerned about that. “But you’re never angry when I say your nickname. In fact, I love the emotion that flashes through you every time you hear it—a pang of longing that then spreads into ripples of warmth and comfort.”
I inhaled a shuddered breath at his words. He saw me, he really did. I still wanted to be angry with him, only anger proved hard to muster at the moment.
“I haven’t heard anyone call me Dee since my dad passed away. Every time you say it, it’s like a trip to the past,” I explained. “The memories are nice, but it hurts to remember what has been lost for good.”
“That’s what memories are,” he replied, unexpectedly softly. “Echoes of what is never to be again.”
What kind of a collection of memories would one assemble after a life that stretched over a millennium, I wondered.
“How do you deal with that? With memories and the pain they bring?” I asked. “Is there a better way to remember?”
“I’m not sure there is. I simply relive them in my head, over and over again, hoping that the pain will eventually ease.”
“Does it? Does it hurt less after a few centuries?”
“No,” he admitted. “It simply makes you hurt all over again.”
I recalled what he had said earlier. ‘If you want to know just ask.’
Would he really tell me the truth? Bracing myself for his answer, I asked, “Raim. Why am I here?”
“Because this is where you need to be.”
“To what purpose?” The idea of him using me as his personal Source no longer seemed logical. Why would he keep me here if he couldn’t even touch me? He certainly would have no shortage of women out there, willing to feed him anything he ever wanted. “Are you grooming me to become something more than just a Source for you?” I asked as it suddenly occurred to me. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you? So you’d earn your Forgiveness through me?”
“Would you consider falling in love with me?” The tone of his voice was too light for him to be asking it in earnest. The faint smile of amusement on his face proved he was joking, too.
“Definitely not after you’ve locked me in here.”
“Would you have considered it otherwise?” His smile dimmed.
The very word love rang false to my ear, as if the feeling itself was a fraud or a delusion.
“Honestly, if you’re looking for someone to love you, Raim, anyone else out there would be a better choice than me.” I didn’t think I could ever let any man into my heart again, even if he were not the demon who had made me his prisoner. Being on my own seemed much safer. “Falling in love is the last thing I want to do ever again.”
“The condition for Forgiveness is for me to love you back, Dee. That is where the real problem lies.”
“You don’t think you could fall in love, either?”
“No.” He rose from his chair, even though I hadn’t touched the breakfast yet. “Either way, there is no Forgiveness for me, Dee. My sins are too grave and too many to ever hope for redemption.”
“IF YOU KNEW HOW IT would end, would you still go ahead and marry him?” Raim asked me once, when we were having dinner together.
The question caught me off guard. I still kept analyzing what went wrong between us, and I had to think long and hard about my answer.
My initial response would be to scream, ‘Never, not in a million years! I would’ve stayed away from Brad. Had I known, I would have never even signed up for his class.’
Then I thought about the good things that we had in the years we spent together, and I had to admit there were some good things.
After the death of my father, Brad was my only family for many years—the only person I shared everything with. His support and encouragement meant so much to me during my postgraduate studies and later when starting my own practice. Without him, I wouldn’t be where I was professionally.
Yes, his betrayal was excruciatingly painful, and right now I really wished he’d burn in Hell. But I wasn’t willing to give up everything he had given me in exchange for being free from this pain.
“I do not regret marrying him, but I don’t want him back.” The fact that I finally could speak about it, rationally and calmly, gave me hope that I could soon move past his betrayal and start thinking about what lay ahead. “Brad is my past. There’s no place for him in my life anymore.”
Admitting it all out loud was freeing, making me believe I could have a future again.
IT WAS NOT RIGHT FOR me to enjoy talking to Raim as much as I did or to look forward to seeing him every day. I had no business choosing his clothes every evening—instead of giving them all to him at once—then waiting for the morning with an added excitement of seeing him wear them.
I should not keep trying to read behind the icy detachment in his eyes, searching for a person inside the demon. I had to steer away from believing that the hurt I had glimpsed in him might be in any way similar to my own, and that could be one of the reasons why I enjoyed his company—because he was not only seeing inside me, he understood what he saw.
It was wrong to have any feelings for him, and I knew that letting them grow carried very real danger.
There was a term for the attachment a captive would form for their captor under certain circumstances—a well-defined syndrome—and I realized I had become a classic example of it.
I knew it all—the right terminology and the signs to watch out for. I saw the danger a mile away, and yet I rushed right into it, letting my heart speed up at the sound of his footsteps each morning, anticipating his greeting every day, and looking forward to our conversation at night when I ate another one of his perfectly executed dishes as he skimmed my enjoyment of it.
He was the one who spoke of how addicting a woman’s emotions could be. Yet he was becoming my addiction.
Chapter 11
A WEIRD BUZZING NOISE woke me up one bright morning sometime during my third week at the castle. I tried to wave it off like an annoying fly, then stuck my head under the pillow—nothing helped.
Sitting up on the bed, it took me a few moments to realize what the noise was.
A vacuum cleaner.
The housekeeping couple must have finally arrived.
Having supplies delivered by helicopter and learning how to cook might have
solved the most pressing issues of housing a human for Raim. Sooner or later, however, someone needed to clean the dust from this place, and I hardly doubted it was Raim doing chores down on the main floor. Although he had surprised me with his ability to whip up gourmet dinners, I had a hard time imagining him wielding a vacuum and a feather duster.
Slipping from under the covers, I padded to the door and opened it just in time to see Raim. Dressed in the long, turquoise shirt and pair of pants I chose for him last night, he came up the stairs, holding a silver tray with my breakfast.
“Morning,” he greeted, coming closer.
I had yet to see a real smile on his face. In fact, I was beginning to believe that the muscles responsible for smiling lacked that ability in him. However, his expression lightened at seeing me—the ever-present crease between his eyebrows smoothed, and the hard line of his mouth relaxed.
“Morning,” I smiled.
He pressed the edge of the tray all the way to the invisible barrier between us, and I took it from him. “Thank you.”
The noise of the vacuum continued from downstairs, confirming what I already knew. The housekeeper was here.
“Um, I’ll eat alone this time. If you don’t mind.” With an apologetic smile, I quickly closed the door between us. I needed to keep my emotions entirely to myself this morning.
If the housekeeper was here, it meant the boat was here, too.
Grabbing toast off the tray, I rushed from one window to another, trying to see beyond the walls of the castle and around the bend of the shore. There was nothing but rocks and waves on this side, though.
Running to the bathroom, I opened the window without its grate and leaned out of it as far as I dared without falling out. Being a part of a turret, the bathroom offered a wider view. Far in the distance, I caught a glimpse of a small, white boat, moored to the dock of a bay off the island shore.
The boat was here. What I needed to do now was to get to it before it left.
Reasoning that the boat should be there most of the day waiting for the housekeeper to finish cleaning the place, I quickly ate my breakfast then set out getting ready.
The Last Unforgiven - Freed (Demons, #5) Page 8