The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)
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“Who has been here?” De Floyran asked, when he returned to the room some time later.
Catherine looked at him and widened her eyes in bewilderment, “I don’t know what you mean. I am a prisoner. Do you not control the lock on my door?”
“Don’t play games with me Catherine. It is a human trait to try and fool others and given what we are, I would have thought that you’d know better. If I were a human you may be able to bluff me but I am not and I can smell someone’s presence. I ask you again, who was here?” His green eyes darkened.
Catherine remembered that Galeren had told her about lingering scents that could be picked up by a wolf’s nose long after an event and she cursed her carelessness. But even if she had warned Beaumanoir the moment he stepped into the room, De Floyran would have smelt him, even outside the door. However, she still would not betray his name, even if De Floyran already knew who had visited her. She shook her head at him and he smiled.
“Loyalty,” he said, “another folly.”
“But very much a wolf trait.” Catherine countered haughtily.
“You are a clever thing. Enough games though, what did your old lover want?” De Floyran asked and Catherine was surprised at his knowledge of their former relationship.
De Floyran smiled slowly, “oh yes, he told me of your history. What a pathetic wretch you fell for. Still, ’tis in the past. What I want to know is why he was here and what was said?”
Catherine knew that he could not smell that kind of knowledge and so she said:
“He wanted answers, and to see me. It was much for him to witness, what occurred last night. The last time he saw me, I was being taken to a convent and the next I am being thrown into a pit with my wolf lover. Robard has always had a curious nature, but I did not wish to entertain it. I care not for his bewilderment or sentiment. He had a frosty reception and did not stay long.” She hoped De Floyran accepted her half-truth, for it was mostly the truth except for the letter she had requested to be sent to the Templars at Bruer.
De Floyran looked at her intently for a few moments and then, seemingly satisfied, he nodded his head and put his hands on his hips.
“Hurt you, did he?”
“What would you care? Are you not about to administer some form of hurt?”
He smiled, “I am sure Beaumanoir and I operate very differently. He hurt you out of weakness, whereas . . .” he paused and then said, “I would save you out of it.”
She shook her head at him. “You are fond of playing with people.” She said scathingly.
“Yes, but you have made me display a trait that I despise. It is true!” he laughed when he saw her scowl.
“Are you relieved to be back in more comfortable surroundings?” He folded his arms and took the opportunity to admire her.
“I would rather be in the pit with Galeren than in the grandest palace with you.” She returned with genuine sentiment.
De Floyran snorted. “A predictable answer, but I can hardly blame you.”
“How is your finger?” she asked, allowing a conceited smile to form on her face as she looked at the bandaged appendage. She knew it was a small victory to be smug about, but still she saw that the question had piqued De Floyran.
“You should be more concerned with Galeren’s fingers than mine.” He returned the conceited smile.
“You have what you want!” Catherine shouted. “So get on with your revenge. Rape me, kill me, give me to a thousand soldiers! I don’t care, just get on with it!”
De Floyran raised his eyebrows at her angry outburst. “Catherine, I don’t want to rape or kill you. I did, once, but much has happened since our little meeting on the Temple Bruer estate.”
He suddenly moved swiftly towards her. Startled by his sudden advance, Catherine quickly retreated backwards to get away from him, until there was nowhere to go except through the wall. Her heart raced and her senses swam. She could try to be brave but she was afraid, even more than when she had first encountered him, ripping out the tanner’s throat, advancing on her, knocking her to the ground and marking her with his black blood.
She knew things about him now, things that she hadn’t known then. He was just toying with her; he was a sadist who enjoyed the torment he caused. He loomed over her now and took her face in his uninjured hand, pinning her against the wall. His touch was neither forceful nor violent but gentle in its manner and it made her tremble all the more.
“Do you think me void of feeling?” he asked, his tone tender but unnatural.
“Yes,” she said, unable to prevent the quiver from entering her voice. The sense that he was going to do something terrible filled her with fear.
“Mayhap you can change me?” he continued into her ear as if he were her lover whispering sweet incantations. Catherine shuddered involuntarily as she felt the heat of his breath upon her skin. He looked at her quizzically, as if shocked at her reaction to him. He pulled back and rested his hands upon her shoulders and sighed.
“It is a cruel thing and almost out of my hands,” he said through hooded eyes, but then lifted them to meet hers and added as an afterthought, “but I have influence with De Nogaret and after the King and Pope leave tomorrow, well who is to know?”
“What are you talking about?” Catherine asked warily.
“Galeren’s fate. The King has honoured my request to have final say on it.” He smiled wolfishly. “I spoke earlier of a possible compromise. It is up to you though, Catherine.”
Catherine shook her head perplexed, knowing that whatever he offered would be twisted to his design and malice.
“I have been forced to eke out a meagre existence as a hired sword since my expulsion from the Order and attempted murder by Galeren. Times are about to change for me. I am about to become a wealthy landowner with my own garrison, income and various chattels. It may be time for me to change. A wife with whom to produce an heir would complete the metamorphosis.” He smiled as he saw Catherine’s eyes widen in horror as she took on his meaning.
“Why you look at me with such dismay is but a mystery, when you’re already mine.” He said matter-of-factly, “I marked you, you belong to me and Galeren knows it well. You feel me in your cursed blood, my power courses through your veins, not his! You are of my making.” He grabbed her arm as she made to escape him and pulled her back.
“Catherine!” he looked at her and his eyes shone in their intensity. “You feel it! You are bound to me, and in time you will desire me.”
“Never!” she screamed into his face. “You may have cursed my blood but I feel no bond to you. I am bound to Galeren, ’tis a natural and more powerful bond. You will never destroy that. Galeren and I would rather die, and you know it!”
He laughed, trying to quell his frustration. There was a bond between them and damn her she would yield to it. He pulled her closer and his teeth were bared as he spoke. “Brave words Catherine, so brave. But I will not let that be your fate. You will not die. You will live beside me, through force if necessary but not before you’ve witnessed every moment of your beloved’s suffering.”
He smiled cruelly as he said, “I can’t imagine your distress as you are made to watch his torture. You are strong, but are you strong enough to hear every crack of bone, every tear of skin? Can you watch his attempts to thwart his cries of agony? Can you suffer to smell his searing flesh, as he slowly roasts at the stake? You will witness every moment of it!”
“You are truly a devil!” she screamed and spat at him.
He wiped his face unperturbed and pushed her back against the wall. “Not really, Catherine,” he said, “I am giving you a choice.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “How do you choose to be with me? Through force, after witnessing Galeren’s suffering and death? Or willingly, in exchange for his freedom and life?”
Her eyes widened once more as she took in his words.
“That’s right,” he said. “I will let Galeren walk out of Montlhéry alive and you can watch
him leave. You have my word.”
She looked at him in disbelief but knew that this was the hope that she had foreseen; a chance. There would be much travail but Galeren would live and so would she. She knew what she had decided before De Floyran had the chance to draw breath.
“Willingly,” she said without hesitation.
Chapter Twenty One