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insisted. "I’ve only lain with you."
    Laurent clenched his fists. He opened his mouth once then snapped it shut. Dropping his gaze, he whimpered.
    "You have to believe me, Laurent. Please."
    A strangled voice of suffering admitted, "I want to believe you."
    "Then do so!" Liana climbed onto her knees. Misspent pride held no sway over her when she clasped her hands and begged, "Laurent, I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. No one is above you."
    "You love me?"
    "Yes!"
    "Do you love him too?"
    Liana’s face crumpled. Her arms thumped against the bed. "Laurent…I…"
    "It’s not so difficult, Liana." Although his tone bordered on sardonic, Laurent’s haggard expression betrayed anguish and dread. "Yes or no. Do you love him too?"
    "I’m not going to give you an answer. Not like this."
    "Why not?"
    The utter lack of feeling in his tone alarmed Liana. "Because it’s not that simple. I need to explain exactly who he is." Watching spurned rage steadily overtake him, she insisted, "He’s NOT my lover. So please grant me this boon and let me explain."
    Unholy brilliance lit Laurent’s silver orbs. Predatory intent pervaded his threatening stance. "There’s nothing to explain."
    "No, no!" The tiny hairs on her arms and neck sprang to fearful life as he advanced closer. "There is and you have to listen to me!"
    Instead of striking her, Laurent snatched the hapless stool and threw it against the wall. Thousands of wooden slivers exploded into the air.
    "Don’t tell me what I have to listen to!"
    Liana threw her arms up in defense. Countless stings erupted all along the back of her forearms. Extreme terror sent Liana’s heart into her throat.
    What am I going to say? I can’t explain one without the other!
    "You’ve had two months. Two months and not a peep came out of your ridiculous, little throat! That can only mean one thing and we both know what that thing is."
    She shook her head. "You’re wrong. His name is Cristophe and he’s—"
    "I already know his name. He happened to share it with me when he was ripping out my throat. I just want to know one thing. Do you love him?"
    "He’s my—"
    "Damn you, Liana! I just want an answer. Yes or no?"
    Tears scalded her eyes. Hope shriveled and defeat took hold of Liana’s will. She couldn’t change it. Laurent’s reality was the only one that mattered. Maybe this time a lie could save her from disgrace, but what about afterwards?
    "Do you love him?!"
    Shadow and light fused into gray. Defeat seeped through the fabric of their miserable tragedy. Liana dropped her head back and uttered one damning word.
    "Yes."
    Dead silence cloaked the room with rank shades of decay. Profanity and purity disappeared, leaving behind the desecration of a wife’s hope and a husband’s trust.
    Laurent lunged forward. The weight of his heavy body slammed her smaller frame back onto the bed. Gripping her inky crown with one hand, Laurent tore into her throat without mercy or remorse.
    Minutes slunk forward on drugged legs as animalistic sounds of feeding echoed throughout Liana’s gilded cage. The exquisitely woven sheets, scented bath water, and wasteful candles lost all illusion of worship. Instead, they became what they truly were—ancient gestures of disdain.
    I lie about everything else. Why couldn’t I lie about Cristophe?
    Liana’s entire body plummeted to glacial coldness. Too broken to weep, she stared at the ceiling. Sprawled beneath her husband, Liana imagined every bit of her mortal body turning inside out. She wondered if he’d be able to find satisfaction in her blood. When Laurent yanked her head roughly, Liana remained limp as a bird with a broken neck.
    "Stupid…I…was so…stupid, Laurent."
    He pressed her deeper into their bed, refusing to allow his wounded prey the tiniest prayer of freedom.
    "Black sheets," Liana whispered with a hitch. "You like them black so you can’t see the stains. Don’t you ever get tired of spilling my