Black Lady. In Search of the True

“Your soul is as black as your face is beautiful.” Lord Dorset tried to stir up disgust in himself for the countess with insults. But it didn’t help: the desire to possess her only grew stronger.

The lady was amused by the knight’s words. If he knew how many times she’d heard them.

“Wrong!” “I don’t have her. She’s been burning in the underworld for ages. No soul can bear what my essence does.”

“Do I have a choice? Can I refuse?” Gabriel turned toward the crying bride. On his strong face, torment that tore him apart showed—passion and conscience fought within him.

“You understood it all correctly,” Lucia smirked. “You can. And then you’ll see how your beloved dies…”