Bisclavret

Chapter 24

The blood drains from my face as I watch the baron slip through the nearby doorway and disappear down the stairs. My fate lies at the bottom of them, and I can only guess what it may hold.

I'm about to commit robbery. The only thing I ever stole was sweets from the kitchen when I was younger. If it's an arms shipment we're intercepting, then the men delivering it will likely be soldiers and have weapons on them. I could be shot again. I could be killed.

"Isabelle," Henri croons as he glides toward me, his full lips dominating his face because of the mask. "Don't be afraid."

I nearly laugh. I'm about to put my safety in the hands of two men I was just told to run screaming from, but what choice do I have?

Henri crowds into me, fingers rising to skim across my cheek. They slide into my hair, his palm cupping my face, and I go still as our gazes meet. De Vergeronne's words ring in my ears, warning me away, but my pulse flutters as the warmth of Henri's touch seeps into me, and something low in my stomach clenches when I drag in a breath full of his scent. I should probably be petrified right now, frozen in terror, but there goes his thumb, stroking across my lips, and instead, my body begins to relax.

His gaze is steady on mine, brown eyes appearing black because the mask is shading them. They look baleful, troubled. "I'll keep you safe," he says, the low words wrapping around me. "I swear no harm will come to you tonight."

The same gut feeling that made me believe the duchess has me believing him, and I don't resist when his hand drops from my face and his fingers thread through mine. Sparks fly up my arm from the contact, a shock followed by a wave of heat that drives the lingering tension from my limbs. It was so easy to be distrustful of him down in my bedroom, to be confused and conflicted, but he takes up so much space that everything else gets shoved to the side when we're together. Is it some by-product of his magic that has me dropping my guard? Or am I simply blinded by lust?

He leans down and presses a fevered kiss against my forehead. "Let go, Belle. Let me help you like that night we ran home."

Home, I think, releasing a shaky breath. I doubt this godforsaken place could ever feel like that to me, but I can't stand the thought of upsetting him when it's so obvious he's trying to comfort me. I quirk a brow at him. "You mean when I nearly collapsed after you withdrew your aid?"

One corner of his lips twitches up. "I still blame that on you."

I shake my head, huffing out a laugh.

His expression turns serious. "I'll be more careful this time. Expend more of myself to make sure you stay within its reach." Its reach meaning his power.

"So you can control it?"

He winces, realizing he just gave another puzzle piece away, and then nods.

I've spent the past hour disconcerted and worried and indecisive. I don't want to be any of those things right now. Distraction on a night like tonight could prove fatal. I need clarity, a clear head, and I know from experience that if I let Henri's energy infect me, everything else will be diminished enough that I can think and, most importantly, act. So I close my eyes and do what he asks, giving myself over to his sorcery. The baron would be so proud, thinking it's submission. It's not; it's more like desperation driving me on.

"Well done," Henri rumbles.

I open my eyes and meet his gaze. I feel better already, calmer, more rational. At least until he tilts my chin up, and I realize that while his power might diminish my fear, it does nothing to reduce my desire for him. His eyes roam over my face, landing on my lips. I sway forward in his grip.