Jeweled (13 page)

 

 

A little while later, Evangeline trudged her way back through the treacherous streets to the boardinghouse.

“Where have you been?” Anatol fairly accosted her as soon as she crossed the threshold. “It’s been hours!”

Unwinding her makeshift scarf, she felt how chilly it was in the room and wound it back around. She handed over the sack of sandwiches wrapped in material. “This is from Lilya.”

“Lilya? You went to the Temple of Dreams?” He looked suspicious. “Why?”

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you to go to work over there, Anatol?” She shook her head. “Oddly enough, even though that life might give me some semblance of what I used to have, I won’t. I went there for another reason.” She told him about Marta and taking the child to the temple.

He opened one of the sandwiches as she talked and bit into it. Closing his eyes, he groaned as if in ecstasy. It was a strangely sexual sound and she noticed it in every part of her body. He polished it off in record time and started in on a second after offering her the sandwich, which she declined.

Once he’d finished, he set the remnants of the material aside and stared at her so intently that she winced. “You used your magick, didn’t you? On the little girl?”

Sweet Joshui, how could he know that? How did he see the truth of things so annoyingly clearly? Or maybe he was just presuming. “Yes, I had to. She didn’t trust me in a situation where she should, a situation in which she
needed
to trust me. I had to manufacture her emotional response to me for her own good.”

He nodded. “You’re just lucky that no one noticed.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Using magick is second nature to us. Of course you will. Just be careful.” He paused and gave her a suspicious look. “Now explain that bit about not going to work at the Temple of Dreams, would you?”

She swallowed hard, sorry she’d said anything at all about it.

Wandering over to the window, she gazed down onto the street. It was close to twilight and all the factory workers were returning home from their shift. Steam and smoke belched from the tower of the metal working factory behind Belai, spoiling the cold winter blue sky. She’d be lucky to find a job there. At the thought, she closed her eyes.
Oh, sweet Joshui
.

“You saved me, Anatol.” She opened her eyes. “If it wasn’t for you finding me in the palace and getting me out, my head would have rolled with all the others. I don’t intend to abandon you anytime soon.”

She could feel his body heat behind her. He leaned on the windowsill, a hand on either side of her, pinning her there. Her body tightened, although being trapped there by Anatol wasn’t exactly an unpleasant thing. His heat warmed her and he smelled good—like the soap he used to bathe with that morning.

“Are you sure there’s not something more to it?” he murmured.

“Don’t get too confident, Anatol.” Scowling, she pushed away from him. “I’m just saying I feel loyal to you, nothing more.”

His eyelids had lowered a little and his pupils had darkened. Men were always the same. They always thought with their dicks. “Maybe one day you’ll feel more. I
want
you to feel more for me, Evangeline.”

She blinked. Though few men thought of any emotion that went past lust, especially not love, fewer talked of such things openly. “Don’t waste your time on me, Anatol. I’m too damaged. Even if you could heal me, I wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She snorted and turned away. “Then you’re a fool.”

He gripped her upper arm and whirled her to face him. “Don’t say that. Remember that I can see into the true heart of you. I have since the moment I took notice of you over a decade ago.” He cupped her chin gently in his strong fingers, forcing her to look at him. “I know you better than you know yourself. I know the value that is in you. Don’t discount yourself that way within my earshot, all right?”

He actually sounded angry. “That’s a pretty arrogant thing to say.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth. I’ll never give up on you.”

“Because you love me,” she whispered.

He released her chin and her upper arm. “Yes, Evangeline.” He stared into her eyes. “Because I love you.”

She blinked again, not knowing how to react to that. Not even knowing if she could continue to look him in the eye. She turned away, but he caught her by the arm. This time when he turned her to face him, his hot mouth came down on hers, his lips firm and demanding. She stiffened in his arms, surprised. His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him as his tongue eased into her mouth and brushed up against hers.

She relaxed against him in spite of herself, her body molding to his. He moved her back toward the bed a few inches, then stopped. His mouth parted from hers and he looked down at her as if fighting with himself. Then he swore under her breath and turned away from her.

“Anatol?” she asked as he walked away from her.“What’s wrong?”

He grabbed his coat and went toward the door. Pausing in the threshold, he half turned toward her. “When we make love for the first time, I want it to be
making love
, Evangeline. For both of us.”

Then he was gone.

 

 

That night the weather was bad. The next day the roads and streets were packed with heavy snow, but the city’s inhabitants made ruts to walk in the drifts in order to keep the city running. Needing to get away from Anatol and the way he stared at her so intently, the words he had to say to her—
the things he expected of her
—and to get away from the sight of his strong hands, which made ripples of want go through her whenever he touched anything in the room, Evangeline took the few coins they possessed and offered to go out to buy some supplies.

When she’d asked Anatol where the money had come from, he’d looked away from her and mumbled something about helping in the stables for pay. But she couldn’t remember him ever smelling of horse. Of course, he always bathed before he came to bed.

The thought of the bed had been what had finally driven her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the street, where the frigid-ness of the air stole her breath.

The first thing she’d done, heedless of the snow chilling her feet and legs, was walk past the steps of Belai. It was empty, the executions suspended due to the weather. Fingers curling around the cold bars in front, she breathed in clean air and closed her eyes, imagining that the snow covering the bloodstains, making everything look so fresh and clean, had also turned back time. Ignoring the sight of the guillotine that not even the pretty white snow could banish, she imagined all was as it had been before the revolt.

But of course, once she opened her eyes the illusion was shattered. Emotion tightened her throat and her face twisted as she tried to thrust it away like a bit of rotten fruit. The more she fought, the more it sank its claws into her. There was no getting rid of the grief and sorrow that seemed ever-present. It was only momentarily eclipsed by the confusion and lust that Anatol made her feel.

Turning away from the palace gates, she headed slowly and clumsily back into the city center, needing to find food for herself and Anatol before she returned to the room. After buying half a loaf of two-day-old bread—they were going to be eating a lot of bread in the coming days—she headed back to the boardinghouse. She’d wrapped her feet and legs as best she could with what was available, but cold had long since bitten into her flesh. Her nose was frozen and her thighs had gone numb.

Noticing that the alleys were clearer of snow because they were sheltered by the buildings, she headed down one to take a shortcut. She was so preoccupied by the cold that she didn’t notice the flicker of emotion in the alley that would’ve alerted her to another presence.

Not a good presence. Not positive emotion.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and she turned her head to see a dark form unfold itself from the ground and stand like some great black monster. She came to a stop in the middle of the alley, thinking about retreating back the way she’d come. It was probably too late for that.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The man’s dirty, bearded face spilt into a grotesque smile.

She glared at him, more angered than afraid, and tried to hasten past him.

He caught her by the upper arm before she got far. The bread fell from her hands and lodged in a small snowdrift. She wrenched away from him. “Leave me alone.”

He pushed her up against the wall of the building behind her, his forearm pinning her throat. “Do you hear that?” He said nothing for a moment to emphasize the silence. “That’s the sound of no one to help you. Seems you took the wrong alley, girl.”

This man was not like the three louts in the alley who’d thought she was a whore. Her magick tasted him on a deeper level. This man was a different animal than she’d ever encountered.

Evil
. Evil through and through. There was something wrong with him. He didn’t see her as a person, he saw her as a
thing
. And he wanted to make that thing hurt.

He pulled at her clothing with his free hands, exposing too much skin to the cold air. Now she was afraid. She kicked out with all her strength, catching the man in the stomach. He flew backward, holding his gut, and she stood up, ready to fight him, though he was easily twice her size.

Realization slammed into her. Blessed Joshui, there was no way she could defeat this man. Her throat closed and her hands trembled.
Panic
.

Barely aware she was doing it, she reached out a thread of her power and felt his emotions. Thick, heavy—cloying—they wrapped a cloak of hate around her until her body seemed poisoned with it. The man would kill her, but first he’d rape her. She was nothing to him—an object to make scream and cry. Hurting her would make him happy for a little while. She’d wandered into a nightmare complete with a real monster.

The man stood up, swung a hand free to show her that he wasn’t injured, and smiled.

For the first time since her ordeal had started, Evangeline was absolutely and perfectly terrified. She cemented her numb feet on the icy cobblestone and prepared to fight. She wouldn’t go down without taking her pound of flesh from this beast.

Then a flicker of another emotional stream came to her from near the mouth of the alley. The person was troubled, worried, a bit regretful. Overall, however, this person was calm. She leapt on the opportunity, snatching the emotion from the monster in front of her and the unsuspecting individual walking down the street and exchanging it. She didn’t just take a little, she gouged into them both and traded every drop she could plunder.

It was her only hope and she was taking a huge risk. She’d just transferred all that anger and hatred into another vessel. The person could be just as bad—she couldn’t imagine anyone being worse—than the man in front of her. She might have just exchanged one problem for two.

The monster shook his head and took a step backward, touching his temple. He looked up at her with confusion on his face.

She bolted for the street, leaving her bread behind. Fabric-wrapped feet slipping on the ice, she reached the mouth of the alley, where she was immediately blocked by the person she’d transferred the anger and hatred into.

Staggering backward, she started to slip. A strong hand snaked out and grabbed her by the upper arm, steadying her. The man was big, his dark brows drawn together with the rage she’d placed in him. He was a just a little older than her. Dark brown eyes. Full mouth. This was the kind of man she’d avoid in an alley and she’d practically called him to her.
Bad choice, Evangeline.

His gaze flicked behind her, caught on the monster. His frown deepened, the air of violence already clinging to him became thicker. He’d taken one look at her, then at the monster, and seemingly understood the situation.

Moving her to the side, he stalked past her and grabbed the monster by the shoulders. She should have run. She should have turned tail, forgotten the food she’d left behind, and run back to the boardinghouse. But her feet wouldn’t move. Instead she watched with fascination as the two men fought.

The stranger drew back a meaty fist and punched the monster in the face. The monster fell back, swearing, and then leapt on the other man. The two toppled to the snow, punching and kicking. She inched to the mouth of the alley, ready to run if the monster was victorious. Even though she knew she should escape while she had the chance, she felt responsible for the man who’d jumped into this situation. She’d never meant for him to ride to her rescue and put his own safety in harm’s way. If the monster killed him, his blood would be on her hands.

She needn’t have feared. The stranger quickly got the upper hand in the fight and she watched with horror as he bashed the monster’s head against the wall over and over with a bone-chilling brutality. The monster crumpled to the snow, blood leaking from his head.