Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (14 page)

Shaking her head in fear, she did as he
requested. “Good,” he nodded. “Drop it on the floor and get into
the bed.”

Tears sprung to her eyes as she felt the
cold of the sheets on her back. Pierre slapped her on her breast,
an area she knew others would not see. “Do not cry now or when I
leave,” he threatened through clenched teeth. “I will not have
people think that I cannot please my wife in bed.” He grabbed her
breast again and squeezed it hard. Swallowing the cry that wanted
to escape her, she frantically wiped the tears threatening to spill
onto her cheeks. “I won’t cry,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt
me again. I won’t cry. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Pierre eyed her with such hatred she
recoiled from him. Once again, the idea that he saw her as a symbol
of what he hated about society came to mind. Gulping, Sophie
watched him fish in his jacket pocket.

He removed a small container of blood.
“Pig’s blood,” he stated. “I’ve heard that it is much like humans.
Now spread your legs for me, Sophie. Wide.”

After she’d done that, he used his fingers
and smeared her most private parts with the blood. She wanted to
scream with humiliation when she felt his fingers on her vagina and
thighs. Then he dripped the remaining blood on the sheets below her
vagina, the piece de resistance to his insane scheme. Finally, he
then stood back and examined the picture he was trying to
create.

“
I have to touch you now, Sophie, to make
it look real.” He bent down and covered the other breast with his
mouth, suckling hard, mechanically and then bit her, hard enough to
mark her. Sophie let out an involuntary cry.

Pierre looked up at her sharply, about to
reprimand her, and then shook his head, seemingly changing his
mind. “That’s good. Cry out again,” he ordered.

Sophie was petrified and unsure of what to
do. So, Pierre dipped his head again and bit her other breast.
Sophie let out another cry. “Yes, that’s it,” Pierre nodded
approvingly. “Do that a few more times.”

Afraid of further abuse, Sophie complied
while he continued to routinely grope and mark her. Tears
threatened to fall, but she ensured that she reined them in. He
ended his torturous groping by bringing his mouth down hard on her
and sucking at her lips while his fingers found their way to her
hair and mussed it. He stood back and stared at her, the way an
artist would review a painting he was about to complete.

“
Good,” he stated. Sophie cursed the word
– he seemed so fond of it ,yet there was nothing good about this
situation to her.

“
We are newly-weds. We would be expected
to share a bed, at least for this, quite often. I’ll come to you
every night for the next month and thereafter a few times a week.
Eventually, I’ll have to endure touching you only monthly. If
people question my lack of heirs, I’ll say that you’re barren. So,
do not think to beget yourself a lover. I will kill you, him, and
any child from such a union. Are we clear?” Sophie nodded, unable
to do much more. “Just one more thing,” he said to her.

Clenching her teeth and shutting her eyes,
she prepared to be assaulted again. Instead of coming towards the
bed, he moved towards the balcony and opened the door. Peeking
through her lashes, she saw the outline of a man. He must have been
waiting on the balcony and stepped into the room at Pierre’s
invitation.

Nervously looking around him, he noticed
Sophie and sent silent looks of condolences. Pierre caught the look
and laughed, “Don’t worry, Jean, she’s being well compensated for
her trouble. As are you!” Jean nodded, the act somehow not
translating to the rest of his body language as his fists were
clenched and jaw hardened. “Come,” Pierre approached Sophie and
gestured that Jean join him. “Tell me what you think?”

Jean looked at Sophie, his sympathy coming
off him in waves and threatening to bring tears to her eyes again.
Before Jean could answer, Pierre leaned in and kissed him then
whispered, “Not too loud. We don’t want the servants to hear
you.”

“
Looks fine,” Jean whispered back,
“complete.”

“
Ah, but it is not,” Pierre leered at him,
still whispering, “There’s still the little detail of my seed. And
that’s where you come in. Of course, the easiest solution would be
for you to lie with her, but I cannot risk her begetting your
bastard.”

Eyes wide, Sophie breathed a sigh of relief.
She already felt violated and nausea threatened to spill forth from
her along with the sobs she’d been holding back, but to actually be
raped by this strange, though sympathetic man would have been too
much. Sophie had seen much, been subjected to more and yet the
rape, she knew, would have been the act that would have finished
her. These thoughts flitted through her mind and she allowed them,
as it was infinitely better than the sight before her. Pierre stood
mere inches away from her. His pants were bundled around his ankles
and Jean was sucking his erect rod. It was the first time Sophie
had seen a man’s parts. Pierre’s grunts filled the room and he
began to jerk, pulling Jean’s head down on his rod. Suddenly, he
shoved the other man away from him and held his rod over her
private parts so that the seed spilled between her legs and onto
the sheet. He took some of the spilled seed in two of his fingers
and roughly smeared it over her privates then shoved those fingers
into her. Sophie cried out, much to her humiliation, pain, and to
his approval.

“
That looks about right,” Pierre nodded at
the picture he had created. She knew then that she’d been
infinitely better off being crushed to death besides her
maman.

Finally alone in her new home, her new room,
which had proven to be anything but a sanctuary, Sophie rolled onto
her side and allowed the sobs she’d been holding back to cascade
forth. She’d take his punishment, because nothing could be worse
than this. Even then, fear gripped her and she was careful not to
sob too loudly, shoving her fist into her mouth, her face into the
pillow. Her heart bled then for not being able to keep her promise
to her mother and her soul buried itself within her, along with any
hope, any emotion, in an effort to survive.

Sophie woke with a start. She was covered in
sweat and shaking. Since Pierre’s death, she had not thought of
that night nor dreamt of it. Denial of the abuse she’d suffered had
served her well and given her solace. Until now.

Sophie recoiled when a man barged into her
room. The memories evoked by the dream were still too fresh. Then
he walked toward her and the moonlight streaming through the
windows reflected on his face. And like that, relief filled her.
This was not Pierre it was Sylvain. She did not see the hatred and
loathing Pierre had approached her with. Sylvain’s face showed care
and concern, which was confirmed by the emotions coming off of him
in waves. She smiled at that. He was obviously so concerned for her
that he had forgotten to shield against her. Before they made love,
and they would make love; of that she was sure, she would need to
obtain his promise to not shield from her anymore.

Sylvain sat on the bed and pulled her to his
side. “Another nightmare?” he asked gently.

It was that gentleness that undid her. All
the tears she had repressed, the hurt and humiliation, pushed
through to the surface. Unable to speak, Sophie buried her face in
his chest and cried. He said nothing. He let her cry while gently
rubbing her back. It was exactly what she'd needed.

Sylvain watched Sophie sleep against his
chest. She had spent what seemed like hours sobbing against him,
too distraught to speak. So, he’d let her while he held on. She
felt right there, looked right too. The tight knot that had formed
in his belly began to unfurl and with it, memories he thought he
had buried. He would not have anything happen to her. She was his
friend, and now, their relationship was taking a new, appealing
direction. But, if he had to, he would be the strong one, even if
it meant hurting them both.

xxx

Sophie woke up to light streaming into the
room and the smell of coffee.

“You’re awake,” Sylvain stood up from the
chair he’d occupied in the corner of the room and walked towards
her. Yep, thought Sophie. No fear of this man.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concern
etched on his face.

“I’m okay,” replied Sophie. “Better. Thank
you for being there,” she smiled slightly.

Sylvain shrugged. “Any time,
ma
chérie
.” He went to a serving tray on the occasional table next
to the chair and poured some of the dark brew into a cup. “Here,”
he offered it to her. “It’s a drink made from coffee beans and
valerian root.”

“For mild stress-induced headaches and stress
alleviation,” Sophie completed the explanation.

Sylvain nodded, “Of course you’d know that.
You teach botany to the girls.”

Smiling more genuinely now, Sophie inclined
her head. “That I do. I also smell burning nutmeg and nettle. So,
you think I need healing, peace, and tranquility?”

“Sure,” he stated, sitting down next to her
while she sipped the hot brew. “Anyone would after the night you
had.” When she said nothing, he ventured, “Do you want to talk
about it?”

Sophie sipped the last of the drink, and then
regarded him. “I doubt humans know that the stimulant they’re so
fond of in mornings or during crunch time is actually a stress
reliever.”

He sensed she was avoiding the question, then
decided to give her the time she wanted. “Yes, coffee has many good
qualities to it. And humans probably don’t realize what they’re
doing. They’ve got blind luck most of the time as they go through
the motions during their short lifetimes. As fae, it bugged us and
still does at times. Mostly, we’re resigned to their inertia now.
The long lives we live have a tendency to do that.”

“Your magick is completely different to ours,
yet we use the same resources,” Sophie observed.

“You’re trying to understand why?” Sylvain
probed.

“Yes,” Sophie nodded. “For you to use earthly
herbs and spices seems almost humbling given the power I’ve seen
the fae possess.”

“Fae look after the elements. We may have
different magick, but we are all of the Goddess. Some of the
similarities lie in the resources we use. I might not have to cast
a circle to enhance my magick, but I do use what the elements
offer.”

“I had no idea,” Sophie marveled. “And here I
thought you clicked your fingers and things happened.”

“You hold our magick in higher esteem than we
deserve,” he chuckled. He wanted to be on equal footing with her
and admitting that he actually did just click his fingers,
metaphorically speaking, would be self-defeating. He leaned in and
placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “But, it is flattering, so don’t
change your mind.”

Sophie grabbed a pillow and attempted to
smack him on the side of the head. He caught the pillow and placed
it across her chest, using it to keep her twitching hands at her
sides.

Although her eyes were puffy from her bout of
crying and nose had a red twinge to it, she looked adorable in the
morning - all mussed and sleepy. Being a guy, sleep automatically
translated to a whole lot of very appealing gutter thoughts. Unable
to resist the feel of her soft, pouty lips, Sylvain leaned in for
another kiss.

“I could get used to this,” Sylvain said,
eyes twinkling. “In fact, maybe I’ll click my fingers and keep you
tied like this to the bed. Then I’ll click my fingers and make you
do my bidding.”

He was teasing her. He had meant for her to
laugh or try to hit him. Instead, her eyes turned red for a few
seconds, and it wasn’t from passion. He backed away immediately,
not understanding what he had said, but following his gut. His gut
was right. Sophie sat up and it was the Sophie he knew. “It seems
that I’m not the only one that has many masks.”

“Of course, I have masks,” Sophie shrugged.
“I’m a vampire-witch that pretends to be a tutor at a culinary
academy that is actually a school of magick. I hide my half-witch
side from other vampires, besides my sisters and friends. So, yes,
masks, but mine are significantly less than yours.”

“Fair enough,” Sylvain acquiesced. He
regarded her steadily. “Look, I can respect that you don’t want to
talk about what happened. But it was hell holding you and being
unable to do anything more to help. If you need help, Sophie, you
just have to ask. And I’m not saying this because of what’s
happening between us or the alliance, but because we’re
friends.”

Sophie leaned back into her pillow, closed
her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she looked up at him, he was
again looking at her anxiously. She touched his arm reassuringly.
“I’m okay. I promise. I don’t want to go into the details. Not yet,
and maybe not ever. But I do want you to know that you did more
than sit and hold me. I needed the comfort and security you gave me
last night.” She drew in another deep breath and looked into his
eyes, hoping that he saw the sincerity reflected in hers. “I had a
nightmare; one that reminded me of something from my past, which I
thought I’d buried. When you came into the room, I was reminded
that it no longer mattered, because I had a different, better life
now. I’m sorry I broke down, and that it made you feel helpless,
but you were far from that. It was the first time I’d cried about
it.” She smiled, mocking herself, “From the way I feel this morning
and your concern, I’m going to guess that I made up for a few
decades worth of tears.”

“You’re sure?” Sylvain asked. If anyone could
respect the need to forget the pass, it was him. Who was he to push
her?

“Yes,” Sophie smiled.

“Okay,” Sylvain said, leaning in and placing
his forehead against hers. “I’m here if you need to talk.” He
placed a kiss on her forehead.