Passion by Gayle Eden

the way she had been from the day she had stepped
into Stratton’s world. “You’ve no idea what it’s like to have to
touch and arouse such a demon. To listen to him chant out what goes
through his sadistic mind. That chamber…is a dank and sinister box
that reeks of—” She shuddered and rubbed her arms. “When he’s nude,
begging me to beat him a little harder, it’s all I can do to stay
in character, and not kill him.”
    Several silent moments passed when she knew
Raith’s black gaze was fixed on her. She murmured after a time, “I
knew he robbed my mother, abused her in some way, now I know why
she could endure what became of her on the streets.”
    “It will soon be over.”
    “Yes.”
    Tersely, Raith supplied, “The papers will
start circulating on the streets tomorrow. His warehouses should be
emptied by week’s end.”
    She turned from the window and walked to get
her cloak. “I should go. Perhaps I’ll get a few hours rest whilst
he’s under the effects of the drug.”
    Passing by him, she was detained when he
caught her by the wrist.
    Looking up, Gabriella saw he was studying the
bruises there. When he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, his
thumb washed over the marks, whether deliberate or unconsciously,
she did not know.
    “Not much longer, Gabriella.”
    Her hellish week, her fatigue, whatever it
was, made her all the more sensitive to his closeness. His scent
was so welcome, familiar, and so refreshing to her nose. His voice,
his touch, however light, something she had missed. Though his
expression was normally bitter, she thought she saw something
different in his eyes—some struggle, some moment like she oft had,
of wondering if, when this was all over, would there be anything of
their real selves to build anything with. On the other hand,
perhaps he was finally realizing that tool or not, avenger or not,
she was human.
    Uncaring if it was all in her mind or no, she
husked, “I’m regretful about what I said, Raith. I’m achingly sorry
about your Suzette.”
    His eyes turned a darker pitch. The sinew
seemed to shrink on the fierce bones of his face. Yet he merely
nodded abrupt before he reminded her, “When the time comes, you
must flee as soon as I am inside the house.”
    “I know what to do.”
    His hand dropped from her wrist. He
straightened and took the cloak, holding it for her to slip
into.
    Facing him, whilst he pulled the hood over
her hair, Gabriella gazed upwards. “You’ll keep your promise, won’t
you? About my mother, if anything goes wrong.”
    “It won’t—go wrong.” He took her by the
shoulders, his hold more forceful than his voice. “So long as you
do exactly as we planned.”
    Gabriella nodded. Her gaze skimmed his face.
She dared to raise her fingertips to touch his sinewy cheek. “Be
careful…I…Just please…take care, Raith.”
    “It matters not what happens to me, in that
final meeting, so long as he is dead a second before I breathe my
last.”
    “It matters….” Her lips trembled but she
could not finish. Since she felt her emotions surfacing, Gabriella
turned swiftly and strode, almost ran, outside before she made a
fool of herself.
    Back in the hack, she felt her eyes sting and
had to drive the heel of her hands against them to suppress tears.
It was fatigue. The strain.
    Yet, even as she slipped back inside and
stripped, crawling into the bed she loathed, in the house of the
man she loathed—she grew a little more queasy, a little panicked in
the deepest pit of her stomach—at the reminder that ending their
pact over Stratton, would also be the end of their relationship
too. She may never see Raith again.
    In her worse thoughts, Gabriella feared Raith
would destroy himself deliberately. He lived only for vengeance,
and lived with the ghost of Suzette—sought it, breathed it, needed
it. She knew him well enough to discern it kept him alive when all
the rest of him died too.
    Finally letting slumber carry her out of the
strains of