“No,” Matteo whispered, struggling to his feet.
Isobel closed her eyes and cringed in her seat as he ran toward her. But there was only the whipping of air across her face and then nothing. Opening her eyes she craned her neck to look behind her. He was at the door, banging on it with closed fists. He was crying out, the sound animalistic and desperate. His words were clear enough.
In between repeated shouts of ’Not her!’ he was begging his father to kill him.
***
Matteo quieted down after a few minutes, but Isobel couldn’t see him. The door was directly behind her and try as she might, she was unable to twist her neck back far enough. He hadn’t moved, but his hard breathing grated in her ears until it evened out and deepened. She wondered if he had fallen asleep. If he had, maybe she could get free.
The servant who had tied her to the chair had rushed through the business, no doubt in an effort to be done before Matteo woke. She didn’t want to dwell on that. If the servants, both large and strong men, feared him then what chance did she have?
Trying desperately not to think of what he was going to do to her, she tested her bonds. Even if Matteo was awake, she was going to have to risk it. She couldn’t just sit there waiting for the darkness to consume him.
Struggling not to breath too loudly, she started to tug and slide her arms down and back up. Her already scraped arms burned like someone was setting fire to them, but she didn’t stop. She would surely be raw and bleeding by the time she was free. If she got free.
Nearly an hour later, her prediction proved true. The raw skin seemed to burn in contact with the air and a little blood stained the ropes binding her to the chair. Ignoring the pain she prayed the smell of the blood wouldn’t remind Matteo of her presence, she worked her right hand free and loosened the left. Grateful her legs weren’t tied, she held her breath and stood up as quietly as possible before turning around.
He wasn’t asleep. He was sitting on the floor, his back to the door. He stared straight ahead, his face impassive, nearly expressionless. The darkness that stained his aura had grown, almost as if a halo of black smoke surrounded him.
Oh, my God.
Isobel trembled as she instinctively stepped back. A floorboard underneath her creaked loudly and she bit her tongue to keep from swearing aloud. The noise seemed to fill the world, and to her terror Matteo moved his head slightly to look at her. His eyes bored into hers, freezing her to the spot.
Then he smiled—a beautiful and terrible smile.
For one horrifying second, Isobel felt as if she was falling into a dark well as her sanity start to slip away. Catching herself, she jerked abruptly and flew to the other side of the room, as far from Matteo as she could get.
Isobel scrambled into the corner, her arm stinging from something she struck on the way. Turning to face the room, she was dismayed to see the lantern she’d knocked to the ground lying a few feet away.
“No!” she gasped as the light flickered and began to dim.
The glass hadn’t broken, but the oil in the bottom had spilled all over the floor. She didn’t want to be locked in here with Matteo in the dark. Throat tight, she scrambled forward before all of the lamp’s fuel leaked out.
Her hand had just touched the overturned lamp when a larger darker one took hold of it and lifted it off the ground. Moving like lightning, Isobel crawled back and pressed herself against the wall. Matteo, or the thing that was living inside him, lifted the lamp and turned it down to a low flame.
The light dimmed to a faint glow. Unable to look away, she raised her eyes. His head wreathed in shadows, Matteo loomed over her.
A strange grating and rhythmic sound filled the air. It was her lungs fighting to draw air in short labored pants. But her effort failed as soon as he moved.
It was like a snake striking. One second she was curled in a ball against the wall, and the next she had been hauled off her feet and suspended inches off the ground.
The shadows ceased to matter. His face was just inches away, allowing her to see him clearly. Except it wasn’t his face anymore. It was a beautiful shell, one made terrible in its absence of a human soul.
However, it wasn’t an empty shell. Something was there looking back at her through his eyes—a dark and demonic force. A tremor ran through her entire body as she took in the expression in those eyes. There was an intelligence there and...hunger.
Isobel recognized that look. Other men had watched her with something similar in their expression. But those were normal human appetites, much paler and weaker than this. She wasn’t going to die right away.