My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(60)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Marley gasped. Well.

"Shocked you, did I?"

Uh, yeah. Marley nodded. Anna looked downright pleased by that. She leaned closer to Marley.

"But what shocked Marissabelle was how much she enjoyed those random nights, how she liked the soft feel of a woman’s lips, how she liked to taste between her thighs while Rosa did the same to her. And in one of those pleasure-drenched moments they told her the truth about Damien, about Rosa, about the father and his quest for human servants. Marissabelle thought about the power of immortality, thought about the fragility of her life, and wondered what would happen to her son if she died or wasn’t able to sell her charms any longer as she aged. She thought about endless life and endless pleasure and the strange attraction Damien held for her. She would gain that devotion from men, all men, that instant longing, that drooling, desperate desire, and that appealed to her vanity, her pride. Four men had used her body and left her, and she wanted to do that herself, hurt the way she had been hurt. So she asked for a place in the demon world, requested the same bargain that Damien had—immortality in return for sexual servitude."

Marley was starting to feel a little ill. There was something about the gleam in Anna’s eye that was disturbing. This story wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, but Anna spoke with such passion that Marley was starting to feel uncomfortable. Scared. "Did they give it to her?"

"Yes, only she didn’t understand they were playing her off against each other. That Damien had in mind to switch himself for her, to gain his freedom by promising her. Or that Rosa had guessed Damien’s intentions and was maneuvering so that she would gain Marissabelle, but not lose him. Rosa won that little game, and when Damien found out, he left Louisiana and didn’t return for fifty years. Marissabelle did what was required of her, and she became quite the favored whore of men throughout the city, and many of their wives as well. And when that son, who she did it all for, grew up, he left, casting her aside in shame and disdain for what she was, turning his nose up at her love, and making his way north to where he could be a free man of color and pretend his mother had never existed."

"Another betrayal."

"Yes, another betrayal, and another hard lesson about men and their selfishness. And yet when he died in a fire, she mourned the loss all over again."

"You know this story well." It was surreal, eerie, how Anna was looking at her.

"That’s because this is my story, Miss Marley. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured that out yet. I’m Marissabelle, and this house was given to me by my rich white lover, Damien du Bourg."

She hadn’t seen that one coming, and a shiver raced through her. Anna seemed so together the first few times she’d met her, not at all delusional, but she was different today, wilder, unrestrained. "But you said 1833… there’s no way…"

"Oh, yes, there is. I served Rosa and the father for a hundred years until I gained my freedom and started aging, changing my name to avoid questions. Damien wants to know how I broke free, he burns with the need to escape his immortality, but I’ll never tell him. The hell with him. He set me up, manipulated me, and left me high and dry, and now he can want answers, but I’ll never give them." Her nostrils flared in anger, spittle appearing in the corner of her mouth. "Not when I sit here rotting year after miserable year, too old to do a goddamn thing, unable to die. This isn’t escape, this is worse than servitude ever was."

Marley stood up quickly. "I, uh, should get back to the house." Anna was scaring the crap out of her. She looked fierce, feral, and her words were jumbled, made no sense to Marley. She could not be 170 years old for obvious reasons, and she’d clearly lost her grip on reality.

But Anna grabbed her arm in a steely grip that was way too strong for a ninety-year-old woman. "They want you, you know. Not your sister. You, because of your goodness and innocence. They love that you’ve gotten Damien to break his vow, and they love that he’s leading you from right to wrong. It doesn’t feel wrong, does it, not when it’s one small step at a time, easing you in so you hardly notice, until in two years you’ll find yourself f**king anything that walks for him, and you’ll love it at the same time you hate yourself."

Heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, Marley yanked her arm back. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"No? Then you won’t see it until it’s too late. And I hope you sink fast and hard because then I get my body back all that much quicker."

Marley stumbled down the steps. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"Go on, go to your sex party, See how it makes you feel, see if you’ve already gotten used to it. See what a dirty little whore you are, just like I was." Anna cackled in laughter, voice high and unnatural.

Giving in to her urge to run, Marley jogged over the grass, the gravel, feet flying, that horrible sound ringing in her ears.

"It’s too late to run, you know," Anna screamed after her. "You’re too late. You’ve already served yourself up on a platter."

Chapter Seventeen

The guests had already arrived. Marley saw the cars with dismay and veered off to the back of the house. She didn’t want to see anyone except Damien. She needed to talk to him, have him hold her, assure her Anna was crazy. Not that she believed any of Anna’s ramblings, but it had made her feel unsafe, unprotected, unsure that she knew what was going on, ashamed that Anna had guessed at her lustful relationship with Damien and smirked at it.

While Marley had been feeling empowered, Anna had told her she was being used, and it scared and worried her, made her wonder who was right. Especially since she was living in Damien’s house and wearing a skirt, tank top, and shrug sweater that he had bought for her in the French Quarter, including a very expensive coral necklace and earrings. Everything on her body had been purchased by him, right down to the mango-colored seamless bra and matching thong.

Yesterday it had felt thrilling, romantic to have him giving her gifts, but now she felt… kept.

Determined to find Damien, see him smile at her, reassure her, whisper words of affection and banish all the uncomfortable, icky feelings she was having, Marley went in the back door and quickly ran through the rooms on the ground floor. No one was down there, so she went up the stairs to the main floor.

This party was even more crowded than the last, and Marley squeezed past people gathered in the center hall, moved through laughing couples, into the salon that Marie had called the morning room. She scanned quickly, ignoring a few glances in her direction, turning away quickly when she realized there was a man standing in front of the French antique mirror she’d always admired, watching Marley in the reflection as a blonde gave him o**l s*x. Her gaze shifted, landed on a woman who was sitting on a dark-haired man’s lap, her skirt lifted to her thighs as she rode him, head back. Another turn, another set of bodies, flashes of skin, sounds of moaning, hot breathing, candles and sex scents floating through the air, and Marley felt panic rise like bile in her throat.