Balthazar smiled and licked his lips. “Oh, this will be fun, then.” He crossed toward me and wrenched my knife from my grip. Then, he hauled back his arm and slashed Roman’s belly.
Roman cried out a horrible pain, much like a wild animal. He screamed and struggled in his restraints.
My limbs began to shake as I watched my lover bleed. I rushed toward him and pressed my palm to his abdomen, trying to stop the gushing stream of his life essence. He could bleed to death. He could fuckingbleedto death right here, and there wasnothingI could do. I was in the 19thcentury. There was no overt sense of sanitization. In wagon trains, people lumbered across the land, unwashed, unkempt, succumbing to famine, disease, and grisly, horrible deaths.
I recalled the memory of watching Tristan as we sat across my father’s kitchen table. Papa was bound in the living room.
Tristan drank whiskey until he was wasted, forcing me to do the same. Then, he shot my father—fucking killed him.
I knew then that he was an ugly, awful man. I’d been living a lie with him the entire time we were together.
And then I met Roman, and I knew what true love really was. I knew it with every cell in my body. I’d felt free to be myself without reservation with Roman, and he adored me.
When I was with Tristan, I’d worked my ass off all day, just like him, teaching kids and adults how to defend themselves. I might be covered in bruises from the misplaced kicks of a seven-year-old, but did I whimper and whine? No. I just did what was asked of me when I came home, and Tristan whined about how tired he was from the emergency room.
With Roman, I got to breathe. I got to live. I got to beme.And he loved me, from the tips of my eyelashes to my toenails. There wasn’t a thing about the other we didn’t love.
And now he bled into my hand. Gashes peppered his skin, all put there bymewhen that fucking demon entranced me.
I fell to my knees at Roman’s feet and clutched his legs. “Stop hurting him,” I demanded Balthazar. “Please. I don’t know how or where to look, but Iwillfind the journal. Just please don’t kill him. I will do what you ask.”
“You might have lost your chance,” Balthazar said in a simpering tone.
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” I wailed. “Look at me. You’ve broken me. Isn’t this what you wanted? Just let me go and find the blasted journal. But keep Roman alive.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know where to search?” Balthazar crouched beside me, so close I could feel his breath whisper across my skin.
“I don’t. But Iwillfind it. Imustfind it.” I lifted my gaze to study the beautiful man hanging before me.
“How quickly you’ve changed your tune,” Balthazar said. “I should have tortured him long before, so you would yield to me, too.”
“Quit gloating. I’ll do it.” I released Roman’s legs and rose.
Balthazar did the same.
We stood face to face, staring at one another. Onlyhisglare was victorious—mine was defeated.
“If I find the journal, I’ll read it,” I said, cocking my head to the side, studying him for signs of a reaction.
“I won’t care,” he said, his gaze haughty. “You won’t understand it.”
“What? Is it written in a secret code?” I said, staring at him with cold, dead eyes. I’d retreated deep inside myself—I couldn’t let him get to me any longer. I had to protect myself from the foul creature before me.
“Ha!” He barked out a laugh. “It’s written in the language of love which we shared. It will bemeaninglessto you.”
I narrowed my eyes and considered him.Why does he want this journal so much? I remembered Grey Feather saying my mother searched for the sun and moon dagger. Balthazar’s probably looking for it, too. Or maybe I just found his deepest secret. Perhaps I can find a way to exploit him once it’s in my hands. Possibly a weakness about him revealed in the journal could prove to be his undoing.I frowned.But then why wouldn’t he find it himself?
A wave of confusion washed over me. But then, so did a strategy.
“If I go find this journal, you’ve got to let Roman down from the ceiling. He’s in bad shape, and if you leave him up there, he’ll die, and I will have wasted a trip.” I planted my hands on my hips. “If he’s not alive when I return, I’ll destroy the journal. I’ll rip it to shreds with my bare teeth.”
“You have no right to negotiate with me. If you dare harm the journal, I will give you a slow, painful death and cut off your limbs one by one. I will keep Roman alive until the journal is in my possession.” Balthazar sneered.
“Release him now so I can see it. Carry him into a better place. He can’t just lay here and bleed to death. Your pets below ground will smell the blood and the decay and feast upon him.” I crossed my arms over my chest. It hurt to even lift them.
“This isn’t a hotel,” he stated, matching my stance.
“I’m well aware of that. It’s a hell hole.” I glanced at the dolls still lining the wall in their buggies, staring at me. A shiver shook my spine.
