The Taking (Seven Deadly Sins #3)(53)
Author: Erin McCarthy

He didn’t know where it could go, how long it could last. He didn’t know if Alcroft would kill him or exact a long and painful punishment. And even if he survived that and Regan didn’t think he had abandoned her, Felix didn’t know how any sort of relationship between them could last, given that he would never age.

But he wanted her to know. He wanted her to see and feel and believe that he loved her.

And he wanted to enjoy the pleasure of her company, the contentment she brought him, while it lasted. It would go sour, he had no doubt of it, but for now, he could close his eyes, breathe in her scent and affection, and feel happy.

“I’m falling in love with you, too,” she said, her thumb skimming over his hand. “I think you see me more clearly than any man I’ve ever been with.”

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hand harder and leaning in to press his forehead against hers. “For making me feel alive again.”

Regan pulled back, expression puzzled. “What happened to you? Who hurt you? You can tell me anything, you know.”

He hadn’t meant for her to come to that conclusion. It wasn’t the truth, not exactly. “No one hurt me. I hurt myself with some bad choices. I’ll tell you about it someday. Just not today.”

She paused, like she was going to press, but then she nodded. “Okay. I’m here for you.”

“I appreciate it.” Felix stood up, her hand still in his. “I have something for you.” He hadn’t bought a woman a gift in a very long time and he felt suddenly insecure. “It’s no pearl necklace, but I saw it and I thought it would look pretty on you.”

Felix pulled the hot pink scarf out of the bag and draped it around her neck. “It seems like a lot of women are wearing these now and this color with your eyes … I just thought it would look nice.”

And he was going to shut up because he sounded like an idiot, and he felt even stupider.

Regan smiled, a soft pleased smile. “You bought me a pink scarf? That seems very appropriate. I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He almost said that he would give her anything, anything she wanted, anything that was within his grasp, but instead he just kissed her softly.

“I have something for you, too.” She turned and rustled around in her purse before pulling out a small brown bag. Opening it, she withdrew a chain necklace and held it up. “For your cross. You must miss wearing it.”

Felix stared at the necklace, rocking back and forth as it dangled in Regan’s grip, and he was speechless. It was such a simple thing to do, yet no one ever did anything for him. Never. Not in a hundred years had anyone walked into a store with him in mind and gotten him a gift. No one had even noticed the nuances of his likes and dislikes, in clothing, food, sex, anything, and yet Regan had. Overwhelmed, he realized that he had just fallen completely and totally in love with her.

She cared about him, and it was the most amazing feeling he’d ever had in his life. He wanted to hold it close and never let it go.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, taking the chain from her. Walking over to the nightstand, he picked up his cross and threaded the chain through the hole. Another second and he had it back around his neck. Turning to her, he asked, “Ready to eat?”

She nodded, adjusting the scarf around her neck.

Funny that they had both given each other something worn around the neck. Were the gifts a binding of their relationship? He tried to ignore the uneasiness that crept over him, the feeling that maybe he wasn’t that different from Alcroft. Did love always result in greed? Wanting to own another person’s affections, projected emotions a noose around the neck.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought and he shoved it aside.

“Don’t forget your purse,” he told her.

Unsure what to do with it, Felix slipped the wedding ring from Alcroft into his pocket when Regan turned to pick up her purse. If they sold it in a jewelry shop or on eBay, Felix wasn’t sure what effect it would have on the new wearer. He thought that the spell would have been intended solely for Regan, so if anyone else put the ring on, they would feel nothing, but he wanted to test the theory first before he created turmoil in some poor, unsuspecting newly engaged woman.

Regan stood up, too. “I went to the library today. I found out that Camille Comeaux died here, too.”

Felix paused. “Oh, really?” he asked, hoping he sounded curious enough to prevent her from being suspicious. Yet he didn’t want to discuss Camille’s death with Regan, now or ever.

“Yes. Just a few months after her family. She killed herself.”

“Wow. That’s terrible.” Felix clenched and unclenched his fists, a buzzing starting in his ears. He couldn’t talk about this, not even with Regan. He couldn’t admit that he was the only one who knew that Camille had not committed suicide.

“She flung herself off my balcony, the same one I was sitting on, Felix. Don’t you find that just a horrible coincidence?”

“Yes, that is a horrible coincidence. But it is the balcony right off the bedroom. It makes sense that’s where you wound up when you were sleepwalking.”

“She died with a snake around her neck. Isn’t that strange and awful?” Regan was losing color in her face as she got agitated, her hair falling out of its twist as she spoke emphatically.

“Huh. That is strange and awful. But honey, she was dabbling in voodoo from what you’ve read in the journal. It doesn’t surprise me that she would want to use it under those circumstances.” He couldn’t bring himself to say suicide.

“Don’t you wonder what happened that night?” Regan flung her arms around. “Right here in this very room?”

No. Because he already knew.

Chapter Fifteen

Felix watched Camille dance naked, his body hardening in automatic response to the erotic vision of the once prim and proper daughter letting go of all her inhibitions and dancing to the rhythm of the drum.

He had watched her increasing agitation and growing madness over the months he had known her, and knew that she wasn’t really interested in voodoo. She merely liked the forbidden quality of it, the mystery of the language, the chants and spells and rituals that were so foreign and seemingly primitive to her wealthy ear, raised on subdued religion and sedate ballroom waltzes.She had no idea the complexity of voodoo, the very real power it could wield, particularly in Felix’s hands now that he had the magic of immortality flowing through his veins. He had no intention of doing what she had requested for this evening—raising the spirits of her dead family. That would release a power so uncontrollable, Felix did not want to tangle with it. He was more voodoo magician than true houngan, and he had no desire to blur the lines between this world and the next.