Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series)

by Supernatural Seduction (mobi)

  “I do not desire you,” he explained. “I do not desire any woman, but this world does not allow for my needs. It censures them.” He had gone from dictator to victim in mere seconds. “Should others become aware of my activities, it would harm my business. I have no intention of allowing that. I’ve earned my success. So, I have to pretend and you, Sophie, are going to help me. When we are amongst the staff or in company, you will turn those blue eyes of yours towards me and pretend that I’m your favorite pastry. You will hang onto my arm, give me kisses whilst pretending that you think no one is watching and you will bemoan my travels to all gentlewomen that will listen, claiming you miss me in your bed. But, I will never lay with you.” The bitterness in his voice startled her. It was laced with hatred. Despite her innocence, Sophie realized that she was a symbol for the society that would not accept his sexuality. Dread began to grow stronger in the pit of her stomach.

  “That is the price you will have to pay for my name and this home,” he continued his monologue. “I’m sure, given the circumstances you’re used to in the convent that that won’t be a problem. It is, after all, a step up for you.”

  Given her circumstances, she had little choice, but to agree. In the eyes of the church and law, she was wed. As Catholics, they could not obtain a divorce, and given his reasons for wanting to wed her, a lack of consummation was not something he’d readily admit to. So, an annulment was impossible, also. Kissing her maman’s wishes for her goodbye, she nodded.

  “You have my word,” she raised her chin determinately and met his gaze.

  Pierre nodded stiffly. “Good. I’ll remind you again that if you break your promise, you will be sorry. Now let us arrange the marriage bed.”

  Following his directive, she messed up the bedding and dented the pillows. Sighing with relief that the ordeal was nearly over, she stood and waited for him to leave.

  “Take it off,” he barked from a chair in the corner of the room.

  She was stunned. He had made it clear that he did not want to consummate the marriage, so surely he couldn’t mean her nightgown.

  “Your garment,” he clarified, clearly irritated by her lack of response. “Take it off and bring it here. Oh, and bring your undergarments too,” he stated almost as if it were a common occurrence.

  Feeling anger rise above the shame consuming her, Sophie glared at him and hesitated. That was enough for him to come barging towards her. He yanked her forward and ripped the nightgown off her. Breathing hard, his eyes angry, he barked, “Take that off, too!” and pointed towards her undergarments. “Or do you want me to do the honors?” he asked, venomously.

  Shaking her head in fear, she did as he requested. “Good,” he nodded. “Drop it on the floor and get into the bed.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes as she felt the cold of the sheets on her back. Pierre slapped her on her breast, an area she knew others would not see. “Do not cry now or when I leave,” he threatened through clenched teeth. “I will not have people think that I cannot please my wife in bed.” He grabbed her breast again and squeezed it hard. Swallowing the cry that wanted to escape her, she frantically wiped the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I won’t cry,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt me again. I won’t cry. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  Pierre eyed her with such hatred she recoiled from him. Once again, the idea that he saw her as a symbol of what he hated about society came to mind. Gulping, Sophie watched him fish in his jacket pocket.

  He removed a small container of blood. “Pig’s blood,” he stated. “I’ve heard that it is much like humans. Now spread your legs for me, Sophie. Wide.”

  After she’d done that, he used his fingers and smeared her most private parts with the blood. She wanted to scream with humiliation when she felt his fingers on her vagina and thighs. Then he dripped the remaining blood on the sheets below her vagina, the piece de resistance to his insane scheme. Finally, he then stood back and examined the picture he was trying to create.

  “I have to touch you now, Sophie, to make it look real.” He bent down and covered the other breast with his mouth, suckling hard, mechanically and then bit her, hard enough to mark her. Sophie let out an involuntary cry.

  Pierre looked up at her sharply, about to reprimand her, and then shook his head, seemingly changing his mind. “That’s good. Cry out again,” he ordered.

  Sophie was petrified and unsure of what to do. So, Pierre dipped his head again and bit her other breast. Sophie let out another cry. “Yes, that’s it,” Pierre nodded approvingly. “Do that a few more times.”

  Afraid of further abuse, Sophie complied while he continued to routinely grope and mark her. Tears threatened to fall, but she ensured that she reined them in. He ended his torturous groping by bringing his mouth down hard on her and sucking at her lips while his fingers found their way to her hair and mussed it. He stood back and stared at her, the way an artist would review a painting he was about to complete.

  “Good,” he stated. Sophie cursed the word – he seemed so fond of it ,yet there was nothing good about this situation to her.

  “We are newly-weds. We would be expected to share a bed, at least for this, quite often. I’ll come to you every night for the next month and thereafter a few times a week. Eventually, I’ll have to endure touching you only monthly. If people question my lack of heirs, I’ll say that you’re barren. So, do not think to beget yourself a lover. I will kill you, him, and any child from such a union. Are we clear?” Sophie nodded, unable to do much more. “Just one more thing,” he said to her.

  Clenching her teeth and shutting her eyes, she prepared to be assaulted again. Instead of coming towards the bed, he moved towards the balcony and opened the door. Peeking through her lashes, she saw the outline of a man. He must have been waiting on the balcony and stepped into the room at Pierre’s invitation.

  Nervously looking around him, he noticed Sophie and sent silent looks of condolences. Pierre caught the look and laughed, “Don’t worry, Jean, she’s being well compensated for her trouble. As are you!” Jean nodded, the act somehow not translating to the rest of his body language as his fists were clenched and jaw hardened. “Come,” Pierre approached Sophie and gestured that Jean join him. “Tell me what you think?”

  Jean looked at Sophie, his sympathy coming off him in waves and threatening to bring tears to her eyes again. Before Jean could answer, Pierre leaned in and kissed him then whispered, “Not too loud. We don’t want the servants to hear you.”

  “Looks fine,” Jean whispered back, “complete.”

  “Ah, but it is not,” Pierre leered at him, still whispering, “There’s still the little detail of my seed. And that’s where you come in. Of course, the easiest solution would be for you to lie with her, but I cannot risk her begetting your bastard.”

  Eyes wide, Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. She already felt violated and nausea threatened to spill forth from her along with the sobs she’d been holding back, but to actually be raped by this strange, though sympathetic man would have been too much. Sophie had seen much, been subjected to more and yet the rape, she knew, would have been the act that would have finished her. These thoughts flitted through her mind and she allowed them, as it was infinitely better than the sight before her. Pierre stood mere inches away from her. His pants were bundled around his ankles and Jean was sucking his erect rod. It was the first time Sophie had seen a man’s parts. Pierre’s grunts filled the room and he began to jerk, pulling Jean’s head down on his rod. Suddenly, he shoved the other man away from him and held his rod over her private parts so that the seed spilled between her legs and onto the sheet. He took some of the spilled seed in two of his fingers and roughly smeared it over her privates then shoved those fingers into her. Sophie cried out, much to her humiliation, pain, and to his approval.

  “That looks about right,” Pierre nodded at the picture he had created. She knew then that she’d been infinitely better off being crushed to death besides he
r maman.

  Finally alone in her new home, her new room, which had proven to be anything but a sanctuary, Sophie rolled onto her side and allowed the sobs she’d been holding back to cascade forth. She’d take his punishment, because nothing could be worse than this. Even then, fear gripped her and she was careful not to sob too loudly, shoving her fist into her mouth, her face into the pillow. Her heart bled then for not being able to keep her promise to her mother and her soul buried itself within her, along with any hope, any emotion, in an effort to survive.

  Sophie woke with a start. She was covered in sweat and shaking. Since Pierre’s death, she had not thought of that night nor dreamt of it. Denial of the abuse she’d suffered had served her well and given her solace. Until now.

  Sophie recoiled when a man barged into her room. The memories evoked by the dream were still too fresh. Then he walked toward her and the moonlight streaming through the windows reflected on his face. And like that, relief filled her. This was not Pierre it was Sylvain. She did not see the hatred and loathing Pierre had approached her with. Sylvain’s face showed care and concern, which was confirmed by the emotions coming off of him in waves. She smiled at that. He was obviously so concerned for her that he had forgotten to shield against her. Before they made love, and they would make love; of that she was sure, she would need to obtain his promise to not shield from her anymore.

  Sylvain sat on the bed and pulled her to his side. “Another nightmare?” he asked gently.

  It was that gentleness that undid her. All the tears she had repressed, the hurt and humiliation, pushed through to the surface. Unable to speak, Sophie buried her face in his chest and cried. He said nothing. He let her cry while gently rubbing her back. It was exactly what she'd needed.

  Sylvain watched Sophie sleep against his chest. She had spent what seemed like hours sobbing against him, too distraught to speak. So, he’d let her while he held on. She felt right there, looked right too. The tight knot that had formed in his belly began to unfurl and with it, memories he thought he had buried. He would not have anything happen to her. She was his friend, and now, their relationship was taking a new, appealing direction. But, if he had to, he would be the strong one, even if it meant hurting them both.

  xxx

  Sophie woke up to light streaming into the room and the smell of coffee.

  “You’re awake,” Sylvain stood up from the chair he’d occupied in the corner of the room and walked towards her. Yep, thought Sophie. No fear of this man.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

  “I’m okay,” replied Sophie. “Better. Thank you for being there,” she smiled slightly.

  Sylvain shrugged. “Any time, ma chérie.” He went to a serving tray on the occasional table next to the chair and poured some of the dark brew into a cup. “Here,” he offered it to her. “It’s a drink made from coffee beans and valerian root.”

  “For mild stress-induced headaches and stress alleviation,” Sophie completed the explanation.

  Sylvain nodded, “Of course you’d know that. You teach botany to the girls.”

  Smiling more genuinely now, Sophie inclined her head. “That I do. I also smell burning nutmeg and nettle. So, you think I need healing, peace, and tranquility?”

  “Sure,” he stated, sitting down next to her while she sipped the hot brew. “Anyone would after the night you had.” When she said nothing, he ventured, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Sophie sipped the last of the drink, and then regarded him. “I doubt humans know that the stimulant they’re so fond of in mornings or during crunch time is actually a stress reliever.”

  He sensed she was avoiding the question, then decided to give her the time she wanted. “Yes, coffee has many good qualities to it. And humans probably don’t realize what they’re doing. They’ve got blind luck most of the time as they go through the motions during their short lifetimes. As fae, it bugged us and still does at times. Mostly, we’re resigned to their inertia now. The long lives we live have a tendency to do that.”

  “Your magick is completely different to ours, yet we use the same resources,” Sophie observed.

  “You’re trying to understand why?” Sylvain probed.

  “Yes,” Sophie nodded. “For you to use earthly herbs and spices seems almost humbling given the power I’ve seen the fae possess.”

  “Fae look after the elements. We may have different magick, but we are all of the Goddess. Some of the similarities lie in the resources we use. I might not have to cast a circle to enhance my magick, but I do use what the elements offer.”

  “I had no idea,” Sophie marveled. “And here I thought you clicked your fingers and things happened.”

  “You hold our magick in higher esteem than we deserve,” he chuckled. He wanted to be on equal footing with her and admitting that he actually did just click his fingers, metaphorically speaking, would be self-defeating. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “But, it is flattering, so don’t change your mind.”

  Sophie grabbed a pillow and attempted to smack him on the side of the head. He caught the pillow and placed it across her chest, using it to keep her twitching hands at her sides.

  Although her eyes were puffy from her bout of crying and nose had a red twinge to it, she looked adorable in the morning - all mussed and sleepy. Being a guy, sleep automatically translated to a whole lot of very appealing gutter thoughts. Unable to resist the feel of her soft, pouty lips, Sylvain leaned in for another kiss.

  “I could get used to this,” Sylvain said, eyes twinkling. “In fact, maybe I’ll click my fingers and keep you tied like this to the bed. Then I’ll click my fingers and make you do my bidding.”

  He was teasing her. He had meant for her to laugh or try to hit him. Instead, her eyes turned red for a few seconds, and it wasn’t from passion. He backed away immediately, not understanding what he had said, but following his gut. His gut was right. Sophie sat up and it was the Sophie he knew. “It seems that I’m not the only one that has many masks.”

  “Of course, I have masks,” Sophie shrugged. “I’m a vampire-witch that pretends to be a tutor at a culinary academy that is actually a school of magick. I hide my half-witch side from other vampires, besides my sisters and friends. So, yes, masks, but mine are significantly less than yours.”

  “Fair enough,” Sylvain acquiesced. He regarded her steadily. “Look, I can respect that you don’t want to talk about what happened. But it was hell holding you and being unable to do anything more to help. If you need help, Sophie, you just have to ask. And I’m not saying this because of what’s happening between us or the alliance, but because we’re friends.”

  Sophie leaned back into her pillow, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she looked up at him, he was again looking at her anxiously. She touched his arm reassuringly. “I’m okay. I promise. I don’t want to go into the details. Not yet, and maybe not ever. But I do want you to know that you did more than sit and hold me. I needed the comfort and security you gave me last night.” She drew in another deep breath and looked into his eyes, hoping that he saw the sincerity reflected in hers. “I had a nightmare; one that reminded me of something from my past, which I thought I’d buried. When you came into the room, I was reminded that it no longer mattered, because I had a different, better life now. I’m sorry I broke down, and that it made you feel helpless, but you were far from that. It was the first time I’d cried about it.” She smiled, mocking herself, “From the way I feel this morning and your concern, I’m going to guess that I made up for a few decades worth of tears.”

  “You’re sure?” Sylvain asked. If anyone could respect the need to forget the pass, it was him. Who was he to push her?

  “Yes,” Sophie smiled.

  “Okay,” Sylvain said, leaning in and placing his forehead against hers. “I’m here if you need to talk.” He placed a kiss on her forehead.

  Sophie laid her palm on the side of his face and looked i
nto his ever-twinkling blues. That, she thought, is why things are better now

  Chapter 9

  “You’re doing well with separating your feelings from those around you,” Arianna said proudly. The beautiful fae sorceress and Sophie were having a tête-à-tête on their usual spots on the mat in Arianna’s home.

  “In a few more days, you’ll master what I can teach you and you’ll be able to return to the plantation,” Arianna continued, “Then, I recommend that you and I meet once a week just to practice and to reinforce the basics.”

  “I’d like that,” Sophie agreed eagerly. It was strange to have this powerful woman declare that she was a stronger empath. She didn’t feel as though her training was complete. In the past few days at the hollow, she’d come to both like and respect the fae sorceress and didn’t want their friendship to end. Logically, she knew that her leaving didn’t need to change that. She could still visit. Sophie sighed internally. Who was she kidding? As much as she’d been resistant to coming to the hollow, she was now loath to leave and the reason for it was all due to the dashing fae prince. What had also taken a three-sixty degree turnaround was her initial fear and reticence to train as an empath. Each time she learned a new skill she felt her confidence grow and her thirst to learn, increase. The feeling of accomplishment that had accompanied that thirst was heady.