HER SWEETEST DOWNFALL (Paranormal Romance / Fantasy Novella) (Forever Girl Series - a Journal) Read Free Page A

then, not as she should, but rather an attraction to this strange man from whom she knew she needed to escape.
    “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.” Ethan averted his eye as he finished unbuttoning her gown halfway down to her navel. He grabbed the wool blanket and draped it around Ophelia’s midsection, allowing her to ease the gown from her shoulders and slip out of her chemise and stays without exposing her breasts. “Perhaps a drink would help?”
    Ophelia smiled weakly. “Please.”
    Ethan poured her a glass of wine, which she drank quickly and set aside. She couldn’t seem to escape his stare, the way he looked at her as though he wanted to take her in all at once, to absorb everything from the hair framing her face to her very soul.
    She stared down at her lap, trying to focus on the moth-eaten holes along the edges of the woolen blanket.
    “Your mother”—Ethan dipped the end of the rag in the red fluid of the bowl—“she was taken the same as I’ve taken you, but not for the same reason or by the same people.”
    “She’s alive?”
    He pressed the rag against the mark, and Ophelia winced, but soon the fluid cooled the sting. “I’m sorry. She died not long after.”
    Tears bit at Ophelia’s eyes, and her short-lived hope wilted in her chest. For a moment, she thought this man might be able to help her find her mother. Instead he was lying to her, trying to get her to give up, to throw her off track. Her mother couldn’t be dead.
    “I won’t hear any more of this,” she spat, slanting her eyes toward him. “None! You are a liar, and a sick, vile man to lie of such a thing!”
    Ethan stared back but said nothing, and Ophelia’s chest ached with an unnatural weight. Would her mother be gone this long without sending word? Ophelia shook her head. She couldn’t entertain these thoughts. Her mother could very well be prisoner somewhere, stuck wherever she was as Ophelia was stuck now. But dead? If Ophelia believed that, there would be nothing worth living for.
    Ophelia rose to her feet and glared at him. “Ye are a horrible, vile man.”
    Ethan stood, and Ophelia stepped back. He approached, touching her shoulder as she pressed her hand to the serpent’s mark. 
    “Ophelia,” he said gently. “I know this grieves you—”
    With her free hand, Ophelia pounded his chest once, pushing him away. “Ye don’t know anything about me! Or my family!”
    He advanced again, this time pulling her to his body before she could hit him. She dissolved into tears, crying hard against his chest as he held her there. He smoothed a hand over her hair. 
    “I’m sorry, Ophelia.”
    Lord, she knew he was speaking the truth. She knew in her heart, as much as she wished to deny it, and she’d known for a long time. Ophelia was no fool. Women who went missing for long periods of time, such as her mother, never returned. And perhaps the same fate would befall Ophelia if she didn’t push her emotions aside and focus on her own predicament.
    “And why ‘ave ye taken me?” she whispered, trembling now, stepping back again.
    “This world is filled with evils that stretch beyond the darkness of humanity. You and I”—he rubbed the stubble on his jaw and breathed deeply—“we’ve been selected for a reason. And we are not alone, all of us marked with the serpent.”
    Ophelia pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. This man was unstable. “I need to leave, now, Ethan. I appreciate the help with . . . ” the serpent’s mark . She raised her gaze to meet his. “Let me see your mark again.”
    Ethan pulled at the collar of his shirt, revealing the mark on his own neck. 
    She studied it more carefully this time. Yes, indeed it was identical to her own. She bit her lip. No, this couldn’t be right. She shook her head, gaze steady on Ethan, a sudden boldness swelling in her core. “Ye did this to me! Tell me ‘ow ye broke into Lady Karina’s estate—into my chambers!”
    “Ophelia,