She’s naked with her hair falling down over her shoulders. She has her arms wrapped around her raised legs that are crossed at the ankles as she holds her knees close to her chest.
She looks frightened. Chantel looks scared.
Pushing the covers aside, Phillipe moves his legs over the edge and gets out of the bed. Mindless of his nudity, he makes his way toward her.
Holding out his hand, he coos to her, “It’s okay, Beauty. I’m here.”
He hears a quick intake of air as goose bumps break out across his exposed flesh. His heart starts to pound as he moves closer to the motionless figure on the ground. She has her face turned up to him, and as he approaches, she doesn’t move. Air continues to float around him. It’s her favorite.
“Chantel?” he whispers again.
This time, there’s slight movement. She’s coming back to me. I haven’t lost her.
The woman before him shifts. She rises to her knees as he sinks to his.
She takes his hand in hers before she replies, “Gemma.”
Holding my breath, I kneel there before the man I just gave myself to completely. He is lost. He’s in some kind of hallucination where he can’t even see me. He is seeing, feeling, and remembering her. As I hold his hand in mine, I realize that he is shaking.
“Gemma?” he questions.
Squeezing his fingers tightly, I rise up on my knees, so I am now face to face with him. Placing my free palm to his cheek, he closes his eyes as he leans his face into my hand.
“Yes, it’s Gemma,” I softly reveal.
There’s silence all around us, except for our breathing.
“I thought…” His voice sounds miles away even though he is kneeling right before me. “I thought she was here. I heard her,” he confesses.
I swallow slowly. I try to decide if what I’m about to admit is better for him or just something that will make me feel less crazy. “She was.”
Haunted green eyes move to mine. The darkness still surrounds us, but he is close enough that I can make out the sadness and dejection in his eyes.
“That’s why I woke up,” I whisper. I run my fingers up through his hair. “She was here only minutes ago.”
Scooting forward on my knees, I release his hand and bring my hands up to cup his face in both my palms now.
“Give her to me, Phillipe,” I entreat softly.
His weary eyes search my features. He raises his hand to my chest where he places it over my heart. The warmth that radiates from him seems to seep through my skin, touching my soul.
“Will you look after her?”
Tears start to fill my eyes as I nod slowly. “Give her to me, and I will take care of her.”
He swallows deeply, his Adam’s apple moving, as he closes his eyes and removes his palm. “Where’s the journal?”
My breath catches as I look around the room. I spot it on the floor where he dropped it earlier. Moving away from him, I reach out to pick it up. As I touch the leather cover, I feel a shock hit my fingers. Deep down inside, as crazy as it seems, I know it is her. I know she’s just as frightened as the both of us. Refusing to be sidelined, I grab the journal and turn around, only to find he’s moved back to the bed.
He’s sitting on the edge of it. He’s naked, save for the sheet he has now pulled over to cover himself. I make my way over to him through the shadows. When I am standing before him, I stop as he looks up at me with eyes full of sorrow.
He admits, “I would have done anything to swap places with her. I begged him, you know.”
Gritting my teeth, I try not to let my tears get the better of me. My fingers tighten on the journal as he reaches out to take it from me.
“On the day she left, I made deal after deal with him to take me instead.”
I release the journal as I keep my eyes on his.
“He didn’t listen.”
Marked ~
“How could you have left me tonight, Phillipe?” I yelled as we made our way into the studio.
“Excuse me? I think if anyone left anyone, it would be you when you left me to have an all-night cozy chat with the ambassador.”
Fuming, I turned away from him. He is being so unreasonable. “He told me things.”
“I know what he told you, Chantel!” he boomed.
I felt it rattle my very bones. Phillipe was furious. I had never seen him this way.
Tonight had gone completely wrong. We had arrived at the gala, went inside, and then we had been separated. People had wanted to speak to him. That was understandable. I had disappeared into a corner, a place where I felt the most comfortable, but I hadn’t remained alone for long. No, not five minutes after I had retreated to my own space, I had felt someone behind me.
Spinning back to where I knew Phillipe was, I asked him pointedly, “And what am I supposed to believe? You just left me standing there tonight! You didn’t introduce me to anyone—”
“You didn’t want me to! Jesus, Chantel, make up your fucking mind!”
“Was she there?” I asked him softly, feeling my jealousy clawing at me like a vicious animal.
“Who?”
“Don’t treat me like a fucking idiot!”
“No. No, she wasn’t even there.”
Swallowing back my irrational tears, tears of anger and unwarranted jealousy, I spun away from him. “Just go away. Leave me alone.”
I heard movement, and then his hands were on my shoulders, spinning me back to him. I knew he was up in my face because I could feel his breath, warm and intoxicating, as it floated over my lips.
“I wanted to kill him tonight,” he confessed dangerously.
I believed him.
“You almost did,” I pointed out. “Leave me alone, Phillipe.”
“No.” He growled out, gripping my shoulders tightly.
“Are you going to hurt me, too?” I asked him.
I knew it was a low blow. Automatically, his big hands released me.
“I’d never.”
Blinking at him, I lowered my head. “Yet you have.”
Looking down at Phillipe, I notice his left hand is clenched into a fist.
“You know you didn’t hurt her that night, right?” I try to reassure him.
Eyes full of remorse come up to meet mine. “I betrayed her trust that night.”
“But you told me you didn’t go with Susanna. I believe that. She would have, too.”
Shaking his head, he grimaces as he lowers his eyes to the page. “Not in that way, Gemma.”
He has finally left me alone for a moment. He’s given me time to think. He’s so all-consuming all the time. Everything about him binds me. Everything about him makes me love him.
Even as he was continually punching the ambassador, all I could think was, He is doing this for me, and I love him.
I don’t know what I feel. I think it is love. It steals every fiber of who I am and wraps around me like a tight fist. It makes me burn with jealous rage, and it also makes cry at the thought of loss.
I’ve realized that I don’t know how to be without him. I don’t want to know. I want him to take me and mark me. Does that sound absurd?