Page 101 of Eternal Obsession

And into the luxury bathroom. We stood beneath the heat of the shower, moving around each other with an ease that felt sacred, two people who had always belonged, utterly captivated.

The last hour of darkness faded. I caressed Ingrid, kissing her tenderly, attempting to rebalance my previous domination of her.

Ingrid roused. “What time is it?”

“Go back to sleep. It’s early.” I kissed her shoulder.

Ingrid sighed and snuggled into me. “I’m so glad I got that postcard,” she said. “I never did find out who sent it, but it led me to you, so⁠—”

“What postcard?”

“The postcard of St. Catherine of Alexandria. Someone sent it to me anonymously.”

“When?” My heart raced.

“The day I met you at the gallery. All it had was my name and a time on it.” She yawned.

“It was probably sent by the gallery. They do that sometimes to tweak your interest,” I lied.

As I lay next to Ingrid, both of us spooned in my four-poster bed, I knew this was the last time I would ever see her. This relationship, whatever it was or whatever it had become, could not continue. Though fate had brought us together and I had relished the brief time I had spent with her, I had to let her go.

I lulled Ingrid back to sleep and eased myself away from her side, careful not to awaken her. Once again, I returned to the lower chambers with a knot in my stomach. Orpheus would come back for her.

I had to get to him first.

Chapter Forty-One

ORPHEUS

Rays of morning light gradually moved across Jadeon’s bedroom and fell upon Ingrid’s face. She recalled her time with him. He had revealed to her secret pleasures that still left her breathless. She snuggled under the covers, smelling his masculine scent on the bed linen. Reaching over for him, her heart sank when she realized Jadeon was no longer lying beside her.

Using the gift of the mind, I followed my ingenue with the quiet finesse of something unseen. Close enough to watch, yet just beyond her reach. From the darkness, I tracked her every movement, slipping unseen through the folds of her mind. I listened to her thoughts as if they were whispered secrets meant only for me. Intrusive? Undoubtedly. But exquisitely satisfying.

She liked him . . .

A wispy trace of sensual pleasure lingered, sweeping over her like a summer breeze. The feeling that she might have met someone truly special. Yet, the more questions he answered, the more arose in their place.

She sat up and looked for him.

She could not deny that it was . . . such a nocturnal life. Surely art could be discussed, bought, and sold during the day. Indeed, the daylight would be more natural and appropriate for such things, but he was not here.

Unsettling her.

One-night stands aren’t so bad, she told herself, then squeezed her eyes shut in doubt, because she never did this, any of it, date or otherwise, and she’d been seduced by the glamour of it all.

The haunting memory of that stranger—me—in the dungeon flickered through her thoughts like a fading dream. “Orpheus?”

“Surrender to me,” I had whispered it.

Her dizziness faded as she drew in sharp, steadying breaths to calm herself. Memory hazy, as if I had somehow cast a spell over her.

A sound alien to this place distracted her. She recognized the ringtone.

She jumped out of bed and rummaged through her handbag. Ingrid peered at the number on her phone.

Work had contacted her. Only, there was no reception to call back. Glancing around the room, she soon noticed the antique phone on a side table next to the bed and wondered if it actually worked.

Thank goodness it did.