psychic crystal 03 - killer cruise by baron marilyn

Author:baron, marilyn [baron, marilyn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Suspense, Paranormal, Scarred Hero/Heroine
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc
Published: 2015-03-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The resemblance was uncanny. Ilona was the picture of her mother, Marika. A picture Gedeon had stared at and salivated over for the past two decades. A picture of the woman he had yearned for ever since Marika’s beautiful soul had deserted him, fled this world and left him miserable and alone in his castle. The castle, massive and rich, was situated on a large, placid lake. There were a hundred castles and ruins in Hungary. His was one of the most magnificent. Built on a rocky hill near the eastern border of Transylvania, the residence was difficult to get to but offered a panoramic view of the region. Inside, the Gothic-Renaissance structure boasted a tower, wine cellars, and an underground prison.

In his opinion, the painting he had commissioned of her mother was more mystifying than the Mona Lisa, more compelling than the Girl with a Pearl Earring. Once you saw it, you couldn’t look away. It was entrancing. She was entrancing. The painting didn’t do her justice. And this girl must be her daughter. Had to be. So strange to see Ilona roaming this far from home.

Marika. Dark and beautiful, just like this woman below him on the Lido deck. Marika’s daughter. All grown up. And who was the beauty that she so resembled, asleep in the next lounge chair?

His eyes bored into Ilona’s soul, observing her, studying her face from his dark hiding place behind a post on the deck above. A face he thought he’d never see again. Gedeon’s pulse raced. Although he was out of the sun, sweat glistened on his brow. He throbbed under his pants.

Marika’s daughter had run away. Vanished in the night. He had been furious. He’d wanted her to join in the wedding festivities. He had special plans for her. He had punished Marika mercilessly to find out where she had gone, but Marika wouldn’t talk.

Then he had healed her and brought in a famous Hungarian artist to paint her—a full portrait—that immortalized her but barely captured her magic—her beauty, fire, and power. He would sit for hours pining away before the picture, while the flesh-and-blood subject rotted away in chains in his castle’s dank prison. Every time he’d summoned her, she’d refused him. When she was completely submissive, starving, with no fight left, he would free her, have her brought to his bed, and when he was done with her, have her returned to the dungeon in chains. Until one day, when his slap to awaken her brought no response. She had taken her last traitorous breath. His beloved Marika—his butterfly—was dead. Gone from him forever—until now.

The screams that echoed off the castle walls that night after Marika died bled through the limestone. How dare she escape from him? He had left her body there to rot, in the billowing wedding gown, until she was nothing but bones. Where was her power and glory now?

So it became more important than ever to find her daughter, Ilona, who would be offered up to him in her place, to Gedeon, whose name meant Warrior, Devastater.

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