Chagrined, she didn’t look up at him directly until he came to stand next to her. Glancing up at his face, she stilled. The way he was smiling at her was far too familiar.
The presentiment of danger struck her a second too late. He grabbed her by the arms, making her drop the clay pot she was holding. Dragging her to him effortlessly, his mouth came down on hers before she could move.
Isobel twisted her head violently away.
“What are you doing? Stop!” she yelled, trying to push him away.
But he was too strong. He was one of the largest men she’d ever seen, taller and broader than Matteo and at least sixteen stone. His bulk blocked out sight of the door, enveloping her like a blanket of sweaty flesh. Disgusted, she struggled, throwing all of her weight to the side in an effort to break his hold.
“Be quiet,” he hissed before wrapping an arm around her waist. The other began to tug at her bodice. None of her efforts to get loose made the slightest difference. He bent to whisper in her ear. “I know you want me. I saw it in your eyes when the beast was fucking you. You wanted me to watch. Don’t worry, I can satisfy you much better than him. You deserve a real man...”
He pressed her against his body, grinding his pelvis into her. He was already hard, his body heat smothering her.
Isobel gulped air, her heart pounding violently. “No! I don’t want this, and I didn’t want you to watch,” Isobel cried. “If I had said anything Matteo would have killed you. And he’s not a beast! It’s not his fault. Now let go of me!”
Ottavio stared at her angrily and didn’t let go. Instead, he grabbed her hair, nearly pulling it out of the roots as he yanked her toward him.
“Strega puttana, you can’t believe that. It’s a monster, and it should be destroyed. And it will be soon, and then where will you be? The Conte will get rid of you as soon as he’s gone! Nothing save an heir will help you...and we both know that’s not going to happen.”
Isobel went white. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The brute sneered. “I know all about your little potion, the one you drink every morning. You won’t risk giving the monster a babe. And I don’t blame you. But only a babe will save you from Aldo. So don’t be a fool. I’ll put a babe in you and you’ll let me, maledetta strega.”
He yanked on her hair again, pulling her face in close to lick her neck and ear.
“Oh, God,” she whispered tearfully, her heart sinking in her chest.
How did he know all of that? She’d always thought Ottavio was slow because he rarely spoke, but if he’d managed to learn all of those things then she’d severely underestimated him. What if he told Matteo? Or the Count? If she lost his son in the purge, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her.
Too focused on supernatural dangers, she’d overlooked the human ones. But that didn’t mean she was going to submit to Ottavio. There was no way in hell.
“I will not let you blackmail me!” She twisted in his grasp, bring up a hand to rake his face with her nails.
He swore and let go of her, his face purple with anger. She’d only managed to get a few steps away before he rushed forward. He struck out with one meaty fist.
It was a glancing blow, not landing with his full weight, but it was more than enough. The stroke sent her crashing to the ground, her lip bleeding.
Isobel landing on her back, hitting the ground with enough force to knock her breathless.
Ottavio towered over her. “Maiala lercia! Do you think you’re better than me? You’re only here because you’re a witch—but you were a servant just like me,” he shouted.
Isobel cringed, crawling backward.
His beady eyes glinted with malevolence. “I’ll show you, you’re no better,” he growled as if to himself as he tore open his breeches.
She only caught a glimpse of his red angry staff before he was on top of her, crushing her down into the floor of the conservatory. He was tearing at her clothes and forcing open her legs.
It was just like before. A black flood of memory rose up, throwing up images she’d buried in the deepest recesses of her mind. She sobbed aloud, only to be struck in the mouth, his rough large hand covering her nose and mouth as he tried to move between her kicking legs.
Isobel couldn’t breath. Panic tainted her vision black at the edges, so she did the only thing she could think of.
She used her power again. Just like before...but completely different.
There was no other living inside of Ottavio. There was just him—his small mean soul. With a white-hot anger and a considerable amount of fear, she reached out with her ability.
This time it was easier to take hold of it, but she couldn’t just push him away. His soul was anchored too strongly. She tore at it, squeezing with all her strength. When that didn’t loosen his hold she passed raw power through him like a bolt of lighting.