I try to keep my breathing slow and steady. Fail. This moment, when happiness rests within reach, he dares touch me, forces fear upon me.

‘Get your hands off,’ I say.

His eyes snap open, grip tightens on my hair. I wince.

‘No matter, for I see you with a clear eye now. Did you lay a spell on me, that I would see you as other? I have shook it off, witch.’

He winds my hair tighter, tighter, reeling me in close, my body pulled next to his, head tipped up to him. I feel the pounding of his heart against my shoulder, the fast rise and fall of his chest. I would have to rip the hair from my head to escape. At the corner of my eye I see the shape of Seth, on hands and knees, body wracked as he heaves. He turns to us, and I pray that he keeps away, protects himself.

‘I would not waste my time with the likes of you,’ I say.

‘I see you now,’ he says. ‘Ugly. Only your sorcery could make me want to wed you, give myself to you. Touch you.’

He runs his thumb over my lips, head bent close to mine, breath hot on my face.

‘You got a ugly little mouth, lass. You little whore, it wasn’t you, never you, the one I loved, the one I wanted. Not this mouth.’

He forces his thumb between my lips. I struggle to free myself.

‘Not this hair.’

Twists and yanks. A blaze of pain in my scalp and I cry out. Heart thundering now.

‘Not this body.’

Hand on my skin, forcing under my shift and closing hard around my breast. Face so close to mine now, the breath from every word hitting my cheek.

‘Was never love,’ he says, ‘but trickery, a mockery of my feelings, but I see you now, I see you, you ugly little bitch.’

His lips on mine, tongue forcing into my mouth, invading, hands yanking hair and pounding skin. I pull away as hard as I can, but he is too strong, too determined. Try to cry out but my mouth is full of him and I have no voice. Heart thudding, I struggle, fight, but nothing happens. Taste of him, and of my own tears. I pull away and away, must free myself. Cannot. I am trapped.

‘Gabriel.’

The voice is loud, sure and slow. Seems to come from above, and we are both jolted out of the moment. Gabriel loosens his grip and I run free, wiping my mouth and aiming a sharp kick at his shin on the way. More grateful for the shoes than I’ve ever been. He yelps and staggers, glaring at me.

‘Whore,’ he says.

‘Brute.’