Page 37 of Forsaking All Others

We both look up as the Iranian returns, a petulant turn to her lips. Her time with the bachelor was the quickest so far, but she does sport two neat little puncture marks on her neck and proceeds to display them proudly for those who rush to her.

Dinkinesh and I wait to see who’s going to try their luck next, but no one gets the chance as the Viscount walks into the room, his eyes sweeping across all the contestants and coming to rest upon mine.

‘Oh fuck. No, leave me last. Let me live a little longer.’

“Ladies,” he drawls, looking away from me and towards the rest of the contestants, “I fear I may not have time to meet with all of you tonight after all, so I’ve drawn names out of a hat. It seems to be the fairest way.”

There are groans from some, expectant gasps from others.

“Catriona,” he says, bringing a piece of paper out of his pocket and waving it quickly before putting it back. “May I have the pleasure?”

I grit my teeth. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was lying and my name was not on that piece of paper.

‘I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to go anywhere near him in case he bites again and, knowing how it feels, neither of us has the willpower to stop it this time. No, that won’t happen. I’m stronger than that.’

I dutifully rise and take his proffered arm, allowing him to lead me outside.

“Perhaps we can take a stroll around the garden,” he murmurs.

The director steps forward and opens his mouth, but the low growl emanating from the bachelor stops him in his tracks.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my skin goosebumps.

“Cut!”

I swing wild eyes to the director over my shoulder as the filming stops and the Viscount leads me towards the dark garden, away from all scrutiny.

As we reach a hedge-lined walkway away from the lights, I stop and draw my hand out of the loop of his arm. I want to pre-empt whatever’s about to happen by convincing him that it’s better to leave me in the game. Maybe I’ll apologise for being so brutally honest, maybe beg as a last resort…but I don’t get the chance as he shakes his head and steps back from me.

Sliding his hand into his jacket pocket, he draws out a long, black, velvet ribbon.

“Would you mind wearing this for me?”

I nod, confused, as he points to my neck.

Taking the ribbon in trembling fingers, I studiously avoid his gaze as I tie it around my throat like a choker, covering his bite marks.

When I look back up at him he crosses his arms and locks eyes with me.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, I guess. Thank you.”

“Good.”

He nods and continues looking deep into my eyes. His own holding the promise that they’ll know if I’m lying.

“Who’s chasing you?”

I gulp.

‘Shit, so he knows. This is why he wanted to be out of prying eyes. Oh, God. He’s definitely going to kill me. But why the ribbon? Is it some kind of sick ritual?’

“Bad people,” I whisper. “Very bad people.”

He leans towards me, and I flinch.

Shaking his head he turns from me and walks further down the path.