Red Is The Color Of Desire

Chapter 15

@Mi_Moon you rock! Thank you soooo much for all the help!
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Emile felt his heart drop. It was as if time itself had paused and all was quiet except for the pained gasped from Jewel's lips. In that moment he did not care that Jacques's henchman was running away with revenge on his mind.

In that moment all he could think of was losing her.

His gun fell from his now trembling hands and he fell to his knees, pulling her forward. Her eyes were wide open, pain and shock shinning in them. He ran a hand through her hair. He couldn't think. All rational thought was suddenly lost to him and he found himself frightened. Scarred.

For the first time in fifteen years he was afraid. Afraid of losing someone. He had been avoiding things like love and friendship for this very reason. Because he knew what it felt like to lose someone important. Because he remembered how it had felt to hold a loved one in his arms and pray for a response.

"It hurts...," she whispered, grabbing at the knifes handle. Emile snapped out of his agonized stupor and placed his hand over hers.

"Don't." He chastised her. He knew he couldn't help her here, in the middle of the street. They had made too much noise and he was sure that the authorities would soon arrive.

He also knew that the ship was too far away. He picked her up in his arms and settled her gently within them. And then he moved swiftly back into the inn, the clerk sending a wary glance in his direction. "Would you like me to call a doctor, sir?'

Emile nodded briskly before heading back toward the room. Once inside he placed her on the bed. The wound was starting to bleed in earnest. Blood dribbled down her shoulder, her check and across her neck. She was wheezing and her chest was heaving as it hurt her to breathe.

He felt panic lurking on the surface of his calm demeanor. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off his nerves before rushing toward the bathroom. There he grabbed every wash cloth he saw and hurried back to her side.

She was struggling to sit up as returned. He dropped the material beside her and pushed her back down. "Stay still, mon ange."

Their eyes met and he in that instance he knew he had no right to keep her. He knew he had no right to love her. He kissed her on the forehead before grabbing the knife handle and slowly pulling it from where it was lodge with in her.

She screamed before grabbing a hand full of his shirt, squeezing her eyes shut as the blade was removed.

Blood gushed forward and Emile quickly pressed a cloth onto the wound, pressing down it as Jewel thrashed underneath him. As he continued to apply pressure she cried out, tears falling from her eyes with abandon. His hands were covered in blood and his heart seemed to break more and more as her cries intensified.

"I'm so sorry, angel. Je suis desole...," he mumbled as he added another cloth in his attempt to stop the bleeding. There was now a puddle of blood surrounding her, she was losing so much of it.

And then her breath caught and her eyes began to close. His heart landed in the of his stomach and he grabbed her face in his hands, smearing blood onto her cheeks. "No!"

This was his fault. He couldn't lose her this way. He kissed her lips over and over again, trying to get a response from her. Any kind of response at all.

"Jewel...s'il vous plait." He sighed against her lips. He couldn't lose another person. He just couldn't. Tears pricked his eyes and ran down his cheeks. And to his surprise he could feel the liquid building in his left eye. He had thought his left eye dead but yet there were tears spilling from it.

He pulled her against him, a hand in her hair.

He kissed her cheek, her closed eyes, her forehead. "Je t'aime." He whispered against her cheek. And just as he began to believe that he had truly lost her and she shivered in his arms.

He breathed a sigh of relief, his heart returning to it's rightful place in his chest. "Dieu merci! Dieu merci! Thank god!"

Then the door burst open and in walked the clerk and the doctor. Emile was reluctant to let her go but he knee he had to. He kissed her lips one last, mumbling against them, "au revoir mon amour..."

With that he released her and moved toward the clerk. "I want her to remain in this room and I will gladly pay you now if you would like."

The clerk stared at him as if he were growing a horn. "Do you not intend on staying with her, sir?"

Emile didn't answer but instead pulled out all the money he currently had on him and placed it in the confused clerk's hand. "Someone will come for her within the week. She is not to leave alone. Do you understand?"

The clerk agreed and watched, speechless as Emile walked out of the room.

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Armand watched with evil in his eyes and murderous revenge on his mind. The gun wound in his arm wrapped with gauze and a pistol tucked in his trousers. His father had been killed today and he was angry not for the loss of him but because he had wanted to be the man responsible for his old man's demise.

Jacques had raped his mother, leaving her pregnant with an unwanted child. His mother had been a weak, sickly woman but despite that she had raised him until the tender age of nine. She had died fever stricken but not before telling him who his father was. And that she hated him for being the child of such a ruthless man. Armand chuckled darkly to himself.

It had taken him years to track down his father and even longer to gain his trust. He hadn't even had the chance to tell the old fool that he was his son. Rage spread through him once more and he spat into the street.

He ran a hand through his spiky dirty blonde hair and watched with an observant eye as the sun set. A slow sinister smile spread across his thin lips. He stood up straight, stretching his tried limbs.

He looked toward the inn, his mind brewing with plans of slow torture and even slower deaths. He would give them a few days before taking his revenge. He needed to heal a little and make sure his plan was fool proof. He thought about claiming the beautiful mulatto girl he couldn't seem to forget and letting her French man watch.

Another chuckle danced from his lips as he watched men walk in and out of the inn. If his mother were alive today she surely hate him even more. Because he was sure, he knew, that he was just like his father in nature.

Ruthless, selfish, greedy and merciless. At least that's what he told himself as he walked away, saving his thoughts and energy for another day.

He had been given no love. No laughter. No real place to call his own. The emptiness in his heart had given way long ago and filling its place was a dark hatred that only continued to grow.

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