There was a recklessness to Tabitha's kiss. A wild plea. Desperate fingers gripped my collar and she held tight. Every inch of my mouth was claimed as if she were starved for my taste. And my touch mirrored hers. My hands were too rough on her delicate skin. My lips, ravenous with savage anguish. Wanting more, more, more, always more. We grasped each other as if our world was coming to an end, and if it was we'd go together.

It is...it is...

The quiet of the bedroom was broken only by our labored breaths and whispered names. The rustle of silk against armor. The earlier panic in my bloodstream dissolved with her touch. A soothing balm. Tabitha kissed me until the world was gone and there was nothing but her branded behind my eyelids, sweetly willing. I was submerged in her ocean. Sinking, sinking, sinking into her sensual undertow. Torn away in a riptide of pleasure that spun me deeper into her warm depths, making it possible to let go and to forget. To stop myself from trying to make sense of the darkness, of what had happened before I'd awoken. I didn't want to go back any further than the last splash of oaky smokiness on my tongue, and the rattle of glass on wood before I fell back into oblivion. It was there, reality tearing at the edges of my mind, but it receded like the tide with every glide of her body against mine. There was only now and her.

I need her... I need her...

It was the hot sting of salt on my lips that had me yanking my mouth from hers, blinking into shimmering green. Tears glistened on her eyelashes and trickled down her cheeks.

Unbearable shame poured through my veins and ate at me like acid.

I cradled the side of her face and swept my thumb through the wetness beneath her eyes. A pang of guilt echoed through the bones of my forearm, the one I'd wedged brutally against her windpipe, denying her air.

Gods, what I'd almost done.

I'd startled awake, foggy and still adrift in that place between waking and dreaming. I'd reacted on instinct. A threatened animal attacking. A beast with no mercy.

Leaning upward and breathing Tabitha in, brine sharpening the scent of wild roses. I kissed the tears from her cheeks, licked them up, swallowed them down. My voice was thick and gruff, the spice of whiskey still on my tongue. "I'm sorry..."

Soft hands slid from my jacket collar to wind around the nape of my neck, her fingers knotting in the short cut of hair. "Shush," she murmured, pressing a tremulous smile against my lips to silence me. "I'm fine. Unnatural healing, remember?"

A wild thump of wrongfulness beat my heart. Her voice had been hoarse, her throat still raw. "I hurt—"

Tiny kisses were peppered across my face. "You could never hurt me."

I cupped the back of her head and arched her neck gently to trail my gaze down the delicate column of her throat, anxiously searching once more for purple bruises. Nothing was marring her throat, nothing except the rosy flush of arousal. I exhaled in relief. However, it was risky for Tabitha to be even near my room, let alone inside it. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes widened, her mouth pursed on a silent 'O.' She pushed to sit upright. Chilly air swirled between us as she pulled away from my touch. My hands slipped from her neck to fall to my sides, cushioned by the fleecy comforter.

Tabitha sat straddling my hips like a goddess. Grecian folds of silk gathered gently like sand dunes around my thighs. She pressed her fingertips lightly against my abs and the merest suggestion of her hold was enough to render me a prisoner. I'd willingly stay here forever, caged by her slender legs, her warmth pressed against my cock. I'd let her take whatever she wanted.

Uncertainty entered her big wide eyes. "I-I-I..."

"Tabitha?" I braced an elbow on the waterbed and levered my upper body higher. Messy strands of hair sliced between my fingers as I shoved a hand across my scalp, blinking rapidly and trying to rouse my lust-dazed mind, muzzy with alcohol. All I could smell in the air was whiskey. Gods, how much had I drunk?

Tabitha fell silent and as still as a statue, all but for those dark lashes, fluttering anxiously as she struggled to articulate what was on her mind.

Worry rose up—an iron band squeezing my ribs. What had brought her here in the first place? Had something happened at the wedding reception? When I thought back to her irrational anger on the Banquet Hall's inner balcony, she'd mentioned Sanela. My mouth parted to ask, but the intent was subdued when her gaze slid sideways and bewilderment washed away the uncertainty. A notch formed between her eyebrows.

She slid off my lap and the emptiness slid back in as if her bodily contact had staved off the hollow desperation that had carved a hole inside my chest. Swinging her long legs over the side of the bed, she stood up, her fingers pinching the pleated skirt. It was the crunch of porcelain chips under her high heels that had reality crashing inward.

The room was in disarray. Pale moonlight folded over the cowhide rug shoved up against the skirting board like fresh snow and draped itself like frost over the tasseled lamps and intricate string patterns that had fallen in a rambling heap.

My father.

Gratian.

Irma.

Tabitha drew to a halt near the bare windows, the elegant dress rippling along her figure like liquid metal. Moonbeams of silver melded with her golden hue as she scanned the debris. She half-twisted around, glancing over her shoulder at me with a frown. "What happened here?'

It was a shard of glass that slashed through everything good inside.

It felt like a dream, a cruel nightmare seizing hold, as images flicked quickly through my mind at what had occurred here only a few hours ago. My knuckles ached in memory. Wretchedness, dark and dank and despairing, consumed me.

Oh gods, how am I going to tell her?

"My father paid a visit," I croaked, sitting up, the waterbed rocking beneath my body with the movement.

She glanced to where a lava lamp had tipped over, its blue glow kissing the carpet strewn with shattered ornamental ducks and swans. Her cute nose crinkled as she smiled, trying to make light of the destruction. "I'm guessing it didn't go very well." Her gaze returned to mine, expectant. Waiting for me to explain.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Her shock impaled my heart.

The lovely smile slipped away as a myriad of emotions tumbled across her features. Hurt. Confusion and worry. Crushing doubt. Unease for what it meant for us. If there'd be an us after my departure. We hadn't wanted this day to come, yet here it was. But Tabitha didn't know the full extent of my betrayal.

"Tomorrow?" she echoed

I nodded.

She brightened. A false strength rang through her voice, and it hurt worse than if she'd been honest with her distress. Self-preservation came to the fore as she slipped into the stiff politeness of a servant. "Yes, of course, I mean, you weren't going to stay here at the Deniauds' forever." She busied herself, quickly righting the bedside table with shaky hands, putting the obscene lava lamp with its neon bubbles back in its place on the low table beside the velvet chaise, and retrieved her clutch where it had fallen beside the bed. "I'll make sure all your belongings are packed first thing in the morning."

"I have to..." I gestured uselessly with a hand, unable to finish the sentence. "There are responsibilities I need to attend to as heir. That's why my father came." Guilt thickened in my throat. I couldn't push out the truth even if I wanted to.

The fake brightness winked out. "An heir..." Tabitha repeated weakly. The flat of her hand clasped her middle and her slender figure almost seemed to sway woozily. She turned to face me fully. Her large eyes were deep reflective pools of pain, sharp against the sun-kissed complexion that paled as she spoke. "Because... Your brother..." she let the words drift apart.

Gratian.

My hair fell forward as I bowed my head, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of guilt and grief that pierced my heart. Tabitha didn't say anything further. When I swallowed back the agony, I glanced up to see her fingers squeezing the black clutch tightly, as she stared through the window at the midnight landscape of tall trees ruffled by gusts of wind. "I-I-I n-need a glass of water," she said quietly, not looking my way as she wandered into the bathroom.

The light flicked on and seeped into the gloomy bedroom, and the sound of water splashing into the vanity's basin followed. A chink of glass upon marble.

Time trickled onward as I sat on the bed in the darkness with my sins breathing heavily around me. I needed to tell her.

No, no, no...

I couldn't. Not yet. Fuck, not now. Not tonight. I wanted one more night, just us, with everything right between us, untarnished by my father and what I'd agreed to do.

I roused slowly to the fact that I hadn't heard anything from Tabitha for the longest time, not a single sound of movement. I found myself rolling off the bed, pushing to my feet. The thick pile of carpet cushioned my heavy strides as I crossed the room to enter the opulent bathroom, shying away from the garish light that shone down like an intense spotlight. I was a bleak blot of treachery against the stark white of the room.

Tabitha stood in front of the ornate mirror staring at her pallid reflection, a haunted expression on her stricken features. One hand was fisted by her side, the other was wrapped around a glass of water, half-full and beaded down the side she'd drank from. A second glass of water sat on the white vanity beside her sequined clutch, its clasps undone and partly open.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I whispered, coming to stand behind her tense figure, worried at how far away she was in her head as she stared at her reflection in the mirror as if she didn't recognize herself. My hand hovered over the soft curve of her shoulder, my calloused skin tingling with acute awareness. I wanted to touch her, yet for some reason couldn't. "And every day afterward, I'll find a way to meet you in the forest," I added, wanting to reassure her. I would, but it tasted like ash in my mouth because it would be easy to traverse the forest from the Szarvas estate to the Deniauds.

Tabitha came back from where she'd gone. Her eyes flared wide at my presence behind her. When she met my gaze in the mirror there was something barely hidden in those expressive eyes of hers, some unchecked emotion I couldn't pinpoint that unsettled me. She exchanged her glass for the fresh one, picking it up from the vanity. I eyed it with a distant sort of longing, suddenly realizing how dry my throat was. I stepped away to give her room as she turned around to stand flush in front of me. When she silently offered the water, moisture from the cool glass dampened my fingers. I drained it completely, quenching my thirst while watching her over the rim as she ducked her head and avoided my gaze by fiddling with the belt tied around the silky pleats of her evening gown.

Lowering the glass from my mouth, I ran my thumb over the water slicked on my lip, wondering what I was going to do next, say next, just as Tabitha straightened and asked, "How did your brother die?"

It was a clap of booming thunder.

The empty glass almost slipped from my slack grip as wretched shock made it hard to breathe. Of all the questions she could have asked, that was the one I didn't see coming.

A question I wasn't prepared for.

A question I never wanted her to ask.

One I didn't know how to answer. Gods, so much was twisted up in that simple, tragic question. I didn't want to talk about Gratian, my culpability in his death, because it would bare open the ugliness of my soul. I didn't want her looking at me with condemnation in her gaze. Desperation clouded my voice. "I can't."

She took a deep breath. "A truth for a truth," she offered, tilting up her chin, the gesture regal, yet a reluctant challenge. I stiffened at the ominous tone in her voice. "You tell me how your brother died, and I'll tell you why I'm here."

I blinked, retreating an unconscious step back from her.

Why did she come?

It was risky for her, a servant, to be in my bedroom. If it wasn't to see me, what else had drawn her to my side?

Lustrous light danced over the flaxen locks she'd twisted into a crown as she took a small step closer. "I know he died in a hunting accident. That's what everyone believes." Her wan features pinched and her bottom lip quivered. "But that's not quite true is it?"

I stumbled back as if her words were weapons, blades that sliced too fast, too deep, severing through nerve endings. The soles of my boots squeaked on polished marble as I spun around and fled the too-bright bathroom in long strides, needing to be cloaked in the shadows of the bedroom.

I came to an unsteady halt beside a narrow window near the chaise and braced my hands against the papered wall, my head hanging low. I needed a moment to think. To breathe. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the zipper to my jacket, tugging it down the track to ease the collar's tight constriction around my throat.

Could I trade a hideous truth to learn what was so important that she'd risk coming here tonight?

A selfish ache buckled in my bloodstream, whispering to me not to tell her the truth. Not all of it. It was her innocence, her kind heart, that had pulled me out of the darkness I'd drifted within the past six months. A salvation you don't deserve—a sinister part of me murmured.

The steady rhythm of her footsteps crossed marble to be softened by carpet as she drew closer to where I stood—my hands pressed against the wall in a perverse form of prayer.

Behind me, Tabitha started talking, maybe to fill the void, maybe to run through her thoughts aloud. I didn't know why she was pushing, why she wanted to know. She wouldn't be able to bear looking at me if she knew what I'd done. "You'd broken up with Irma around the same time—"

"I don't want to talk about her, not tonight, not like this," I begged, my voice cracking.

I flinched when her hand landed on my tense shoulder, but she didn't yank her hand away. Her fingers tightened and tugged gently, a silent request for me to face her. I hesitated for a moment before finally pushing off the wall to twist around. I stared down at the fragile resolve in her expression, the anxiety deepening the shade of her eyes to forest green.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly, stepping closer. "I could sense your grief the night we first kissed. Your guilt too." She pushed the errant threads of hair away from my forehead, the back of her fingers trailing down the side of my face to stroke gently along my jawline, clean-shaven now but for the five o'clock shadow. "You were hiding yourself." Then she gnawed on her lip, her eyebrows slanting downward as she shook her head as if to say, that wasn't quite right. "You were hiding from yourself."

She could see through me as if I were thin parchment, right through to the shadows inside, much as she'd done before she'd kissed me in the kitchen cool room and recognized what festered inside my soul, what haunted me.

The words were more air than voice when I asked. "A truth for a truth?"

She nodded, her hand falling to my chest where my heart thudded erratically beneath her palm. I jerked my chin down in agreement. There was tension emanating from her, much as it affected me too, both of us bracing for the impact of what I was going to impart. She angled her head to the side, gazing up beneath long eyelashes. "I want to know. Tell me what happened that night."