"Louis! Where is that useless old man?" Raoul gritted his teeth and stood from his bed to reach for his dressing robe.
The linens lay twisted behind him, wrapped around the half-asleep figure of a young woman. She lifted her head in annoyance at the commotion he made, her eyes still heavy from the three glasses of wine he'd offered her. With a yawn, she brushed a stray curl of hair from her face and pulled a pillow closer to her head. Raoul shook her by the shoulder and gave her a dark look.
"Get up."
"Why? It's too early," she protested. Nevertheless, she rolled and stretched on the bed, her bare breasts spilling into the low light of the room. "Come back to bed. I'll take care of you, my Comte," she purred with a tug at his hand.
Raoul glowered down at her and pulled free of her grasp. "I said get up. It's time for you to go."
"Can't I stay? With you?" She sat up, her lower lip pouting. "Your wife won't care."
His eyes narrowed as he fought to keep his hand from flying. "You know our bargain. That does not include you living in my home. Now get up and get dressed."
"What bargain is that, Raoul?"
He spun around to see Christine standing at the entrance to his bedchambers, a disgusted look on her face. Her question rang in his ears, drawing his entire body into a slump of guilt. Christine took a step towards him. Her face looked oddly calm, and it unnerved him.
"Answer me," she demanded. "What bargain do you have with this," her gaze shifted to the naked woman on the bed, "whore?"
"I am not a whore," the girl spat.
Raoul stepped to block their view of one another. "Christine—"
"No. You answer me right now! What bargain did you strike up with this girl while you kept your wife locked away like a mad prisoner?"
He sighed and tied his dressing robe closed. "I am allowed to seek pleasure where I desire. Especially when my wife won't allow me to touch her."
Christine stared at him, her jaw clenching with each breath she took. "Is she pregnant?"
"Not yet," the girl answered.
"Be quiet!" Raoul yelled back at her.
"I see she even looks like me. You've thought it all through, haven't you? Have your whore birth a child, pass it off as mine, and then what? Would you have me killed in my sleep? Would you tell everyone I died in childbirth?"
The look on Raoul's face told her everything. He barely glanced back at the woman in his bed and muttered, "Get dressed and leave. Now."
"You son of a bitch," Christine spat. She rocketed towards him, her hands flying to slap whatever part of him she could reach. Raoul lifted his arms to block most of her blows, wincing at the ones that struck his face. "You disgust me," she screamed at him. "I never should have married you!"
Raoul's face turned three shades of red and he grabbed her by the wrists. He squeezed hard enough that Christine sank to her knees, a whimper on her lips combined with more curses. The girl behind him scrambled from the bed and reached for her clothes, wanting no part of what was to come. Christine writhed in a feeble attempt to break free, but Raoul was far stronger than Louis. He twisted her arms, drawing another cry of pain from her. Something primal filled Raoul's eyes as a smug grin tugged at his lips. In a single motion, he swung Christine around and onto the bed, still refusing to release her wrists.
"Maybe I'll just tell everyone you died of fever instead," he seethed.
Christine thrashed beneath him and spit in his face. The girl, still only half-dressed, cowered in the far corner, too frightened to move. Raoul's eyes flickered to her terrified expression, a dark laugh rumbling through his chest. She shook with fear, her eyes widening in horror at the monster he had become before her eyes.
"She isn't like you, Madeleine. She doesn't know her place." Raoul shifted his attention back to Christine. "She never has."
"Burn in Hell," Christine told him.
"You first. For letting that devil murder my brother."
She tried to fight back. Her fingernails clawed at his arms and face, but Raoul refused to relent. As she writhed beneath him, he slid both hands to Christine's neck, tightening his fingers into the soft valleys of her throat. The constrained sounds of her curses and protests faded into silence, a sharp gasp of air the last noise to leave her lips. Raoul gritted his teeth, a line of spittle dangling from his chin. An inhuman growl filled his body, sated only when Christine fell limp beneath him.