Dryas gets a phone call while I’m finishing breakfast. He ignores it the first time, but when the second call comes, he takes it. Fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, he looks at me dryly.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you. Otherwise, make yourself at home here.”

And then he disappears, answering the phone in a language I don’t understand. Another layer added to the puzzle that is Dryas.

Looking down at the used plates and forks on the counter, I bite my lip. He said to make myself at home…

If I were back at the convent, I would do the dishes without question. Getting to my feet, I stack our plates and carry them over to the sink. I screw up my face, looking around the granite countertop for an apron. The dishes must be done, but I don’t dare get dishwater on this dress.

After a cursory examination of the nearby drawers, I pull out one and find knives. A lot of knives. Reaching in, I touch the handle of a stainless-steel meat cleaver.

Does Dryas think that I’m too chicken to confront him with one of these weapons, left lying out in the open?

Then again, he has Amabel. She’s somewhere close, but not close enough that I can communicate with her. That’s probably his reasoning for leaving me in a room with a bunch of knives.

He knows that I wouldn’t do anything to endanger my sister’s life.

I close the drawer, jumping when I realize that Dryas is only a few feet behind me.

He arches a brow. “Looking for something?”

I blush as if I wasn’t just considering the feasibility of driving a knife into his heart. I lift my head. “An apron. I don’t want to get this dress dirty doing the dishes.”

He lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “You don’t do dishes here, Rue. That is not your purpose in this house. You’re here to look beautiful and do whatever I ask.”

“Oh.” Blushing again, I put my hands down, conscious of how rough they are from doing chores at the convent. Endless piles of dishes, floors that always needed scrubbing, linens to be boiled and hung out to dry. “Okay.”

He cocks his head. “Come out to the verandah with me.”

I hang my head, my face still flaming. He leads the way into the next room, flinging open the French doors that lead outside. My jaw drops as I see that there is nothing between us and the sea, nothing except several hundred feet anyway. The veranda is large, the furniture all wrought iron, the curtains pure white and billowing.

I wander over to the edge, looking down at where the castle has been built up from the sea. It seems to be constructed of solid brown stone here, perhaps even chiseled away at the base, whittled to create the foundation of the fortress. The stone runs straight down into the sea, which shines like a jewel.

Looking out, I see that there are a few small buildings carved into the steep hillsides nearby. Other than those, no one else has quite the same view that we do. The sea is calm just now, clear and warm.

But I get a little chill, imagining this view when the weather is not so nice. It must be incredible to stand just here, to watch the storms roll in off the sea.

“Well?”

The question makes me jump. It has been so long since I saw the sea, since childhood, that I actually forgot that I’m not alone. Of course, now that I look back at Dryas, I’m instantly aware of him. The sheer physicality of him, his presence crackling and sparking like a ball of plasma might.

How could I forget?

“It’s amazing,” I say, looking back out at the ocean. Not just because the sea in itself is magnificent. But also, it’s easier to look at the water than to look into his eyes for too long.

Dryas walks over to the edge, taking a seat there. He looks down into the rolling waves, where they crash against the stone below.

His energy reminds me a little of that. He seems restless, relentless.

I wonder, is that the particular brand of madness that he’s got? Or is it a more general feeling?

I flick my gaze over to the sea, thinking of all the people that I’ve known. How many have had that same degree of insanity, where you can see it in their eyes?

How many have been off their rockers but still managed to be so… engaging? Or interesting, at least.

“I’ve heard word about Father Derrik,” he says. My eyes snap up to his face again. He’s expressionless. “Just now, in that phone call. Would you like to hear what I was told?”

I tense, sucking my bottom lip in between my teeth. “I… I’m not sure.”

He pins me with that jungle cat gaze, looking interested. “No? Hmm.” He pauses, hugging himself, bringing one hand up to rub across his mouth. “Tell me of your relationship with Derrik.”

My blush is so red, I can feel the heat in my face. “I don’t know if I can.”

His eyebrows lower. “What do you mean?”

Smoothing my dress down across my hips, I clear my throat. “I mean, I don’t know how much I can tell you without explaining the tenets of our church. Unless you are already familiar?”

His mouth turns down at the corners. He shifts his stance. “I know of the Catholic church.”

I nod. “Yes. Well… Father Derrik was mon confesseur. My confessor. He asked me questions about my sins. I told him everything. He told me how to absolve them.”

Dryas cants his head to the side. “There is more. There must be.”

I drop my eyes and blush, wrapping one arm around myself. “That’s all I know of.”

A lie, plain enough. There is much more between Father Derrik and me, but Dryas doesn’t need to know that. Not if I want him to stay interested in me.

I need to protect Amabel. Keep us both safe from what is certain to be F’s rage about my flight from the wedding he arranged.

Just thinking about his anger makes my stomach turn to lead.

Dryas stands, walking over to me. He stops just a few inches from me. He is huge, just this side of monstrously so. I look up at him, trying to keep the worry from my face. He reaches up and caresses my face, brushing a strand of hair back.

I start to quiver, just standing there, staring up into his eyes. His chartreuse eyes dart back and forth, reading something in mine, although I don’t know what.

“I don’t know why you’re so valuable to him,” he says, his brow creasing. “But Father Derrik loves you, as much as he can love another person.”

He startles me by putting his other hand around my back, pulling me closer to him by my waist. I lean my head back, my damp hair cascading down. Dryas leans in close so that I can feel his breath fan across my mouth. He hooks a strand of hair behind my ear, then whispers to me.

“I am going to love you, Rue. I’m going to take your innocence. I’m going to be your first. And you, in turn, will beg me sweetly. You’ll long for my touch, for my kiss…”

His hand on my back moves lower, pressing our bodies together. I stiffen as I feel the unmistakable outline of his hardness. Tears immediately spring to my eyes at the sensation of his… excitement.

His lips brush my ear, his teeth touching the cartilage. Not biting, but just so close. “You will scream my name and beg for my cock. You will fall from grace. Not only that, you’ll luxuriate in living with me, in the shadows.”

Then he kisses my neck, his firm lips finding my pulse point. He sucks at the skin, forcing his body against mine. He is so rough, surely, he will leave a mark.

And I’m frozen, unable to move.

Thinking, not again. I can’t take it if another man does what Father Derrik does to me. I confessed because it’s what Father Derrik said that God wanted from me…

But where is God now?

Nowhere to be found, especially not within Dryas.

Dryas lets me go all of a sudden. I’m forced to catch myself as I stumble a bit, before finding my balance. I look at Dryas, my expression hardening.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

He grins. “What? I shouldn’t make you fall in love with me? I’m sorry, but you don’t have any say in the matter.”

My ire rises. “You can’t just go around doing whatever you want! There are rules to everything, especially how you and I… interact.”

His eyebrows arch. “You don’t know anything about me, Rue. You don’t realize that I operate outside the bounds of whatever rules your old life imposed on you.”

I grit my teeth, surprised at my vehemence. “What kind of magical person could you possibly be? Hmm? Really, go ahead. surprise me.”

Dryas turns away for a moment, hiding his expression. When he turns back, the mania is there. “I’m a killer. A murderer. I’ve taken lives, the most precious thing for so many people. I’ve done the most sinful thing of all. What god can tell me how to live? How can anyone’s rules apply to me now?”

I narrow my eyes, not quite believing him. It’s not that he looks innocent. With his beautiful eyes and darkly handsome looks, his features practically scream of sin. But he seems to think that God’s rules don’t matter, that he cannot repent and be saved.

“There is no one that cannot be saved, as long as they are truly repentant.”

He laughs. “Is that what you’ve been told? That is just so unbelievably naive. Then again, you’ve been locked up with those nuns for some time. You probably believe all the bullshit they’ve been feeding you.”

I can’t help but feel offended. “It’s not… bullshit.” I spit out the curse word with distaste.

He pulls a face, changing the subject. “How long were you at the convent?”

I duck my head. “Almost eight years.”

His yellow-green gaze weighs heavily on me. I blush again, remembering the feel of his lips against my neck. I curse him, curse the see-through robe I’m wearing, curse the ever-present feeling of being exposed.

He looks thoughtful. “I didn’t know what to expect from you, Rue. But I like the look of you. I like the way you smell. I like the way you taste. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with you when I first laid eyes on you, but I know now.”

I cross my arms over my chest tightly, hugging myself. “You do?”

He prowls toward me again, his big frame making me reflexively back up a few inches. “Yes. I won’t be satisfied with just having your body, or having you crave my touch. I want you to want me so much that you’re willing to part with your religious beliefs in order to be with me.”

My eyes widen, my heart pounding in my chest. “No. What you ask is… it’s just not possible.”

His mouth curves up in a smile. “We’ll see.”

Then he turns and leaves me on the verandah, trembling.