Important Authors notes: I am entered in the Romance Junkies writing challenge and would appreciate your votes. My entry isn't up yet, but it will be soon. This is just a heads up to beg for your votes. My mainstream romance story is called The Countess of Suburbia.A sample of this story and what will be entered in the contest is on my website. I will add a link from there and also remind you when I am up for voting.
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Story related author notes: Erik was prepared to suffocate Joseph after he broke down the door and found Anisha struggling to get away from Joseph.
Ch 30
Girish Baleeze rolled to his side and released a soft sigh.
"I've missed you," he said to the Sultana as he ran his thumb along her jaw line. "Four months without you is torture."
"Torture?" she asked, raising a brow. She slid her legs off the silk sheets and stood up, glancing over her shoulder at her lover. "Is that what you would call it?"
"Torture of the worst kind," Girish said with a smile. He rose on the other side of the bed and wrapped a towel around his waist, keeping his eyes on the Sultana's perfect body.
Her hips swayed from side to side as she walked across the room and retrieved her clothing. She took great pleasure in his unabashed interest. Though the Sultan still favored her above his other wives, their encounters were less frequent now that he had a palace that he found pleasing. His age and stamina only allowed him to take one wife to bed in a week, which meant that the Little Sultana was never satisfied.
"Don't dress yet," Girish said suddenly. "I fear my travels to Persia will be less frequent now that I am to wed soon."
"You are marrying one of Padir's daughters, correct?" the Sultana questioned. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Girish held the Sultana close to his chest and kissed her deeply. "Yes, the oldest. Her name is Anisha."
"Tell me, are you in love with her?"
Girish lifted the Sultana into his arms and walked her back to his bed. "The union is good for her father and for myself."
"So, the answer is no?" she replied as he placed her on the bed and pushed her hair back from her face.
"Do you love the men you take to your bed?" Girish countered.
The Sultana laughed. Her eyes closed slowly as Girish drew small circles with his fingers on her inner thighs. "For the night," she answered, her knees drifting apart.
"So you love me right now?" Girish teased. He caressed her neck below her ear as he kissed her trailed kisses down to her chest.
The Sultana smiled back. She pulled on his upper arms until he straddled her. "As much as you are in love with me."
Girish rocked her slowly, savoring the sensation of their bodies joined. Sleeping with the Sultana had made his first night in the new palace a memorable one, and taking her twice while her husband met with Mr. Patel was even more arousing.
"Do I remind you of her?" the Sultana sighed.
"Do I remind you of your husband?" Girish asked.
The Sultana never answered. She slid her hand beneath the pillow and caressed the scorpion dagger, feeling Girish move with greater urgency.
o-
Joseph struggled violently for his life, arms and legs thrashing, head wrenching from side to side. Each time a muffled scream escaped his mouth Erik pressed the pillow down with more force.
After what he had seen, Erik had every intention of suffocating Joseph. The man he had known since childhood was an immoral beast that didn't deserve the wife he had or the life he lived. He shouldn't have been in Anisha's room let alone her bed.
Erik knew the fight would dwindle to lethargic attempts at freedom the longer and harder Joseph struggled. Once Joseph's arms lowered to his side, he would merely continue to hold the pillow until the lecherous man's chest ceased to rise and fall.
"No, don't," Erik heard Anisha frantically say.
Hands grasped him around the neck and attempted to pull him away. Erik reached over his head and found his fingers tangled in long, black hair. Without intending to, he pulled Anisha to her knees by her hair. She fell hard, bare knees and the palms of her hands colliding with the floor.
"You'll regret it," Anisha shouted. Her hand snapped out and caught Erik by the wrist. "If you kill him you'll regret it."
"Never," he said through his teeth.
"You couldn't kill a tiger, what makes you think you can kill a man?"
Her words loosened the one-handed grasp he maintained on the pillow. Erik forced his eyes up. Nostrils flaring, he glared hard at Anisha. "Because I've done it before," he growled.
Erik tossed the pillow aside. He studied Joseph's blue face for a moment as his right hand balled into his fist. All he could think about was this man forcing his wife into bed. It sickened Erik like nothing else.
"You don't deserve to live," Erik spat before he hammered Joseph in the jaw.
Blinded by rage, Erik rose to his feet and started out of the room but Anisha caught him by the arm. She attempted to hold onto him and the coverlet wrapped around her body. The left side fell from her grasp and briefly exposed her, though Erik barely noticed. He still wanted to murder Joseph.
"What do you want?" Erik snapped as he pulled his hand away.
"Please, whatever you do…don't tell anyone what you saw."
Erik's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
She started to turn away. "Just don't. My father would be furious."
"If you're hurt—"
"I'm not injured," she answered with her back to him. "I'll be fine."
Though he didn't understand, Erik gave a curt nod and turned his attention back to Joseph, who was coughing and attempting to sit up. Rage flared again.
"What happened to my father?" Erik demanded.
"What in the hell are you talking about?" Joseph wheezed. "You stupid son of a bitch."
"How did he die?" Erik demanded.
Joseph gave a wild grin. "You mean you don't know?"
Erik raised his fist again. "Tell me or I will kill you."
"Hung himself," Joseph answered with haste. "In the church. Used one of the rafter beams. The preacher found him dangling above the church organ on Monday at dawn."
"When? When did he die?"
"Two years ago. Right after he lost the apartment."
"And my mother?"
"Remarried. A man who works for Garnier. Stagehand, I think."
"What's his name?"
Joseph shook his head. "Baret, I think. Boret? Jean or Joseph. I'm not certain."
"You don't know?"
"Why would I know? I haven't seen her in two years."
"When did she remarry?"
"A month after she buried her husband. Everyone knew she had seen him for months."
Erik's head began to pound. The room swirled around him, the muted colors fading into blackness. He had to leave before he passed out.
"Get out of her," Erik mumbled. He ran his hand through his hair and turned away. "Leave. Crawl back to France and die you miserable bastard."
0-
A knock at the door startled Girish awake. He rolled off the bed and glanced back. The Sultana lazily opened her eyes and smiled.
"Mr. Baleeze! Please! It is urgent!"
Girish pulled his trousers up and walked bare-chested to the door. He recognized the voice as one of his servants.
"What is it?" he asked when he opened the door.
"Anisha, Mr. Baleeze."
"What about her?" Girish yawned.
"She has been abducted."
Girish's eyes widened. "When? By whom?"
"Two days ago. A telegraph just arrived on the wire, sir. Mr. Ravi Patel sent word."
"Who took her? What does it say?" Girish demanded.
"They think it is the Frenchman, sir. Mr. Levesque is his name."
"Levesque?" the Sultana asked from the bed. "Erik Levesque?"
Girish turned. "You know the name?"
Her jade eyes narrowed. "He should be dead."
0-
Erik walked until the lights faded and the sounds of the crowd diminished. Even though he saw the oily blackness of the river growing nearer he couldn't feel his legs. He was numb. There was no feeling in his feet, his hands, or his heart.
He blamed himself for his father's death. His hands had been covered with so much blood over the past three years that he believed there was not enough water in the world to wash it away. He was stained from the inside.
Slowly Erik released the tight fists he had held and realized that his right hand throbbed. He could still move his fingers, which he hoped meant that his hand wasn't broken.
His eyes stared out across the Hughli River.
I could end this, he thought. I could walk out into the water and let the river take me.
Tears pooled in his eyes. It was a cowardly thought, a sinful demise, one that would never find forgiveness. When he was found—if he was found—no one would take him to the church to be properly buried.
Erik wondered what had happened to his father's body. He had hung himself in a church. It was the most painful ending Erik could imagine. His father had killed himself within the church that would deny him forgiveness.
For one fleeting moment Erik attempted to hate his father. He wanted to despise the man he had once admired. He wanted to loathe the person who had abandoned him. The tumultuous years no longer mattered. The hateful words meant nothing.
The only thing Erik could think about was that he wanted to see him one last time. He had no opportunity to see his father's body. The death had taken place two years ago.
What was I doing the moment he died? Designing a torture chamber? Standing in the Sultana's room?
Nothing important, he knew. He shouldn't have left France. He shouldn't have been a selfish boy searching for intangible dreams. His father had asked him to take his place and work for the DeChantels and he had refused.
Remorse turned to anger. Erik wanted a better life and employment he found suitable. He didn't want to serve others. He wanted to make his own plans, his own fortune and that didn't happen by shoeing horses and driving carriages.
"I will never forgive you for this," Erik whispered to the cool night.
He sank to his knees and felt the water from the spongy ground soak through his pant legs. With tears streaking his face he lay down, curled up on his side, and sobbed for the man he wanted to see one last time.