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“Did you break her skin?” I demanded. “Once for yes. Twice for no.”

He blinked two times rapidly.

“Have you drawn blood before?”

Duke Teerman blinked once as his lips thinned and pulled back over his teeth.

I inhaled deeply as I pushed up. Of course, he had.

Gripping him by his ruined shoulder, I roughly flopped him onto his stomach. His muffled groan of pain was just a precursor. I tore open the back of his shirt, exposing the pale line of his spine as I leaned over him and whispered into his ear the number of times he’d blinked.

Then I brought the cane down on his back that many times, each lash whistling through the air, sending his body into spasms, each blow opening thin slits in the skin.

I delivered an extra one just because I fucking felt like it.

When I finished and flipped him onto his back once more, he was a quivering mess, and the scent of piss was strong in the air. I shook my head in disgust.

His lips moved as he tried to speak around the cracked larynx, finally pushing the words out in a broken wheeze only Atlantian or wolven ears could’ve picked up. “Once...she...finds out who...you are, she...will...hate you.”

“I know.” I gripped the cane. “And just so you know, every part of Poppy is beautiful.”

“She…is.” Something flashed in his eyes. A flicker of dying sunlight amidst the darkness. “And…she will…always be…mine.”

“You sick bastard,” I snarled. “She has never been yours.”

Then I drove the cane through his chest.

Duke Teerman’s body reared, arms flopping as I let go of the cane. It remained in his chest as I stepped back. This time, I had all the patience in the realm to wait. His death wasn’t quick. I’d purposely nicked his heart, so it took several minutes for the blood tree to do its thing.

The Duke of Masadonia went out without even a whimper, body broken and urine staining his pants. The surge of savage satisfaction from watching the life go out of his eyes was short-lived, though. He wouldn’t lay a hand on Poppy again—or anyone for that matter—but it wouldn’t erase the pain and humiliation he’d inflicted upon her. Wouldn’t undo any of that.

I wished I could kill the sick bastard all over again.

Turning from the Duke, I stopped. I thought of what was to come tonight and the opportunity for a bit of dramatic flair I was now presented with.

“Well, Your Grace,”—facing him, my smile returned—“I do believe you will make a fine centerpiece for the Rite.”

I LOST MY BREATH

I was running late.

My visit with the Duke and subsequent arrangement took longer than expected.

Freshly bathed, I was finally dressed for the Rite in crimson, my mask in place as I strode through the packed foyer. The plan was to find Poppy, separate her from Vikter and Tawny, then get her into the garden, where Kieran would eventually be. My steps slowed, though. The place was a fucking madhouse.

Commoners moved among the Ascended and Lords and Ladies in Wait like waves of red. I spotted a handful of guards only because of the weapons they wore. There were so many people, and the scent of roses was heavy in the air, nearly choking me as I neared the Great Hall.

I’d cleaned the Duke’s blood from my hands, but nothing had washed away my smirk. It was firmly plastered across my face and would likely remain there for the foreseeable future.

Especially when I thought of his prized Blood Forest cane.

I saw hundreds milling about through the open doors, filling the floor and alcoves. The gold and white banners had been stripped, replaced by the red of the Rite, reminding me of the ones that hung in Wayfair. My upper lip curled. There were vases of roses in every shade placed every couple of feet, and the sight of them reminded me of when I’d overheard Tawny complaining about them. A wry grin tugged at my lips as I stopped at the pillars, scanning the scene before me. Everyone looked the same to me, dressed and masked in the color of fresh blood. My gaze skipped over an alcove and then shot back to one of the columns—

Good gods.

I saw Poppy standing there with Vikter and Tawny, and that odd damn prickling sensation hit the nape of my neck again as I lost my breath.

Staring at Poppy from the pillars, still several yards from her, the air just went right out of my lungs as if I’d forgotten how to fucking breathe. And how idiotic did that sound? One didn’t simply forget how to breathe, but never in my life had I felt that…that whoosh in my chest. Never. I didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t veiled, or because she wasn’t in white.

Or perhaps because she was simply the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.