Page 101 of Nightshade

“That was good. Now step down. Come to me, Lustina.”

Swallowing a gulp, she lowered a shaky leg to the next rung of the trellis. Then the next.

“Keep coming. Do not stop.”

“I do not feel well, My Lord.”

“You are almost to the bottom.”

Step after harrowing step, she made her way down the trellis, until she felt his hands steady her waist and the relief of solid ground against the soles of her bare feet, where Jericho took her hand. Together, they ran through the darkness, into the nearby woods.

Once cloaked beneath the canopy of trees, he slowed his paces, only a silver gossamer of moonlight illuminating their path, as he led her deeper into the forest. “Tell me something,” he said over his shoulder. “Do you ever hear voices? Or have strange visions?”

If by visions, he meant dreams, she’d surely had her share of those. “Sometimes I hear my mother’s voice.”

“I do not mean a mother’s voice. A mother’s voice is comforting.”

“Then, what do you mean, My Lord?”

As if troubled by the question, he released her, still guiding her into the woods. “These experiments Bishop Venable conducts. I have told you what they do, but I have not told you why.”

“So, tell me.”

He finally came to a stop, his back still facing her, as if he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. “They believe something is wrong with me. That I carry an evil inside of me.” His stillness turned to pacing, and he rubbed the back of his neck in a way that sent a nagging sense of uneasiness into her bones. “If I were you, they would have burned me at the stake, like your mother.” Halting mid-step, he shook his head, his behavior erratic and worrisome, but she remained quiet, observant. “My apologies. Forgive me for saying that. I meant only to say that, because I carry the prominence of title and name, they carry out their tortures in a far more clandestine way. Under the guise of exorcism.”

“Exorcism? What for? There is nothing wrong with you,” Lustina assured him.

“There is.” The grave expression on his face sent tendrils of dread curling through her. “They are not wrong in their beliefs. I have known my whole life. But it was on my mother’s deathbed that she finally revealed the truth of it to me.”

“What truth?”

His brows flickered, as though he were trapped somewhere between excitement and panic, and Lustina couldn’t grasp which had a stronger hold on him. “What I really am.”

Heart pounding, she dared to ask the question that squeezed at her ribs. “What?”

Standing thoughtful for a moment, he shook his head and paced again. He stroked his hands through his hair, back and forth, in a way that seemed nervous and unsettled. “I’ve always felt … different. Peculiar alongside other children. I’ve always been told there was a darkness inside of me, and yet, I loved my mother, so how could that be?” The perplexed expression on his face tightened as he resumed his pacing. “It was as if two entities battled inside of me. Constantly clashing in a bid for dominance. But the world did not see me that way. They did not see the potential for good. Only my mother had any faith it was there.” The shine of tears in his eyes pulled at Lustina’s heart, and she wanted more than anything to wrap her arms around him. “And you.”

Cheeks burning, she lowered her gaze from his. “Of course, My Lord. But I believe we all have both good and darkness inside of us. Why would Bishop Venable punish you for that? When even the holiest man in all of Praecepsia carries darkness, himself.”

Lip peeled back in disgust, he looked away. “Because I can see things that should not be seen. Hear things that cannot be heard by anyone else.”

“Like the birds. But I can hear them, also.”

“Because you carry something they recognize. A piece of my soul.” He stepped toward her and reached out to cup her face in his palm. “We were fated to be together. It is your light to which I am drawn, Lustina. It feeds the dark thoughts in my head.” Palm shifting to her throat, he didn’t have to squeeze to lay claim. His grip was gentle but possessive at the same time. “My mother feared that one side of me would dominate the other. That I would become as my father, instead of her, and sometimes I fear you make it so. You bring out cravings in me. Feelings I cannot control.”

“I do not mean to, My Lord.”

“Of course not. It is not in your nature to wittingly invoke the beast inside of a man. You do so without knowing.” He ran his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip, gaze riveted on the act. “Your scent. Your touch. Your voice. It calls to me like a siren, luring me toward the mysterious abyss. And still, I’ve an insatiable appetite for it. When I think of someone hurting you, or touching you, those thoughts my mother feared claw inside of me.” His fingers curled around her nape as his lips peeled back into a snarl. “I cannot and will not bear the thought of another man laying claim to you. Ever. Earlier, you said that you would never belong to me. But you do. And I belong to you.”

As much as what he said thrilled her, his unremitting determination frightened her just as much. No one had ever wanted her that way. No one had ever cared about young Lustina, the feral child who’d lived in the woods with her witch mother. Certainly no one as important as the baron. “You cannot possess what you love, my Lord. It does not work that way. You have to ask for it, and I have to give it freely.”

“Then, I am asking you now. What will you say?”

In the quiet that followed, Lustina stared into his eyes, his warm, pleading eyes that promised her love and security--things her mother never had. A voice inside of her chided her stubborn hesitation, told her to trust her heart and to forgive the world for the burdens it’d always placed on her shoulders. The voice spoke calmly and kindly, and Lustina knew, without a doubt, it belonged to her mother. “I say I am yours.”

“Eternally.”

“Eternally,” she agreed.