My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(59)
Author: Erin McCarthy

He didn’t want that, no matter what he said. Intellectually, neither did she. She had a life to go back to, such as it was, and she understood Marie’s ache, her pain, her want for a child. Marley wanted a baby with every fiber of her being.

"Didn’t take you long," Anna said from her chair on the porch.

"You knew I’d be back, because these are totally made up. You know this couldn’t have happened." Marley held up the bag of letters, knowing she was being rude as hell, but unable to stop herself. "I believed everything up until the immortality thing slipped in. So were those just a woman’s delusions when she was dying and her husband was cheating on her, or did someone at some point just make these letters up out of thin air?"

Marley waffled between both theories. Part of her felt that Marie had to be real, because her emotions, her pain touched Marley, as tragic as it was. She had died very unhappy, and that made Marley feel profoundly sad.

But somehow she’d rather that Marie had been real, known that suffering, than the idea that someone had manufactured those words, taken Marie’s name and image and created a story for whatever purpose. Yet it was possible. The use of Rosa’s name raised a red flag for her. It niggled at her and made her wonder if Rosa was the author.

"They are not made up, Marley, not one word. It’s all true. All true."

Marley paced across the porch and scoffed. "You may believe in immortality, but I’m sorry, I don’t. The first Damien sounds like a bit of a jerk, but he wasn’t in cahoots with a demon."

"That Damien is the Damien you’re in love with."

That brought her to a dead halt. Anna had just spoken the incomprehensible out loud. That she could possibly be in love with Damien. Forget the other thing. She didn’t believe that for one lousy minute. But she was in love with Damien and she knew it in her heart, had just admitted it to herself not ten minutes earlier, but it was too special, too quiet, too unrequited to speak about out loud. Unspoken, it was her secret, like a gift to herself, a warm wondrous feeling. Stated by Anna, it sounded hopeless, silly, naive.

"I told you, I’m leaving on Sunday. None of this matters." Which didn’t explain why she was standing on Anna’s porch with her heart racing.

"He can’t love you back, you know. He isn’t capable of it. He loved that little wife of his, too late to save her, and it eats at him, rots him from the inside out. He thinks it is his nature, it is the demon curse that holds him, but it’s guilt, his unwillingness to forgive himself that holds him in slavery. He didn’t love Marissabelle, couldn’t, and he can’t love you."

Marley knew Damien felt guilt over his wife. He’d said that, admitted he’d cheated on her with Rosa. Marley was smart enough to know he couldn’t care about her until he dealt with his past. Which was why she was leaving as planned. She couldn’t fix him, was done helping people who didn’t want to be helped.

"So what happened to Marissabelle?" Marley sank onto the front step, tired, shoulders aching. So Anna believed Damien was immortal. She was old, and she’d lived in this wild country her whole life, hearing the rumors, whispers. It was like a ghost story, about the mysterious owners of Rosa de Montana, and while Marley thought it was a little off, she figured everyone had their quirks, their superstitions. Or heck, maybe it was senility.

"Why should I waste my breath telling you when you’re not going to believe me?"

Marley drew her knees to her chest and dropped her chin down. "I want to know. I would appreciate it, Anna." Maybe there were no answers as to why she’d found herself here, as to why she’d met Damien. and fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have, but she wanted to hear the story. The secret.

The plantation, Damien, both had a whole closet full of skeletons, and before she left Marley wanted to see them.

"So, you know then, that Death’s Door was your Damien, but in those days he was wild, like we talked about earlier. He wanted to die, but he couldn’t, so he took risks, and that was part of the appeal for Marissabelle. He was exciting, thrilling, he allowed her to forget about all her responsibilities and all her worries, and he took her with him into his lifestyle. Late nights, elegant sensual parties, fast carriage rides, and a sexual voracity that matched her own, that piqued and intoxicated, that spurred her to new daring, exploration. Nowadays you all would call it kinky, and maybe it was, but for Marissabelle it was just damn good sex. Feminists talk about liberation. Well, honey, let me tell you, this was liberating loving. She felt freedom for the first time ever in her life."

If Anna was inventing this story, she was doing an amazing job of touching on everything that had relevance to Marley. She heard Anna’s words about Marissabelle and figured she might as well be talking about her. Her experience with Damien had been the same. She had done things sexually she’d never dreamt of before, but it had been liberating, powerful, freeing.

But she didn’t want to talk about it with Anna, not now.

"I can understand that."

"But she didn’t know the truth, didn’t know about Damien and the demon until Rosa appeared."

There it was again. That name she was growing to despise. "The same Rosa? The one who had long black hair and was Spanish the first time around, or the now Rosa with curly hair and an African heritage?"

"Same one. But in those days Rosa had the creamy white skin of the Irish, and rich Auburn hair. It is her talent, you know, to take on the personality, the appearance of a city. And in those days New Orleans was bursting with European immigrants and for a while she was white. Marissabelle was jealous of that, envious of the purity of Rosa’s skin, her dusting of pretty freckles, the way she could walk into a room and turn every man’s eye. The security of a mistress lies in ensuring that she is a man’s carnal desire, that she satisfies his every licentious need, his every urge to misbehave. If his eye is turned by yet another woman, her control is lost completely. It was obvious to her that Rosa already knew Damien, that they’d had a relationship, and it bothered her."

That sounded familiar. While Marley didn’t think it bothered her that Damien had a past with Rosa, given the annoyance he clearly felt when she was around, it did get on her nerves that Rosa popped in whenever she felt like it. And she had a whole new perspective regarding Rosa’s friendly overtures the morning after the last party. At the time it had seemed so nice, but now Marley could only remember that Rosa told her that Damien never stayed over with the women he slept with. Like she was trying to hurt Marley’s feelings. Out of jealousy.

"What did she do?"

"She tried not to show her worry, her fear, but he was pulling away from her and she was starting to get desperate. So when he suggested it might be rather amusing to bed both her and Rosa together, she agreed."