Page 11 of Ashwood (Wallflowers and Demons #1)

“What…” I gasp, moaning at the sensation.

Fingernails graze tender skin breath. I writhe between pain and pleasure.

Then he is gone, and nothing remains but a delicious sting of sensitive flesh.

The tip of a large thing, all hot, stiff and thick, veiny in its swollen girth, nudges over my heat below.

Dorian groans, it’s a different sound I’ve never heard before. “Moan for me, damnable harlot.”

His words disintegrate until he no longer speaks. “Wench.”

He only growls as his head dips down, watching me without blinking. I am bare, ashamed, made indecent, as his warmth strokes my flesh. He is my husband, but at this moment, every moment of this is sinful….

“This is wrong…” I whisper.

“Yes,” the beast inside him replies. “This is wrong. You are damned, Princess.”

I arch against him but Dorian fights me, pushing deeper as he grinds his cock between my lips, spreading warmth as he grows larger.

A tingle courses between my heat and deep inside that tender spot.

The weight of him bears down and with each thrust, I am bruised.

I travel over the length of his iron cock, lips slick against him.

I cannot think…

That tail appears from behind, twisting in the air in front of me. It wraps around my body, holding me in place, squeezing over my nipples and down my lips. They gather over my thighs, and with a hard squeeze, I am pried apart. I gasp aloud as his thickness pushes between my lips.

“Oh…”

I know it is impossible.

He will rip me.

He will break me.

His lips hover above mine and passionflower rolls off his breath. His lips crash upon mine, hard, tongue lashing, unyielding. He is despair and hunger. He is salt and fire. He invades me, burns me, strokes me from the inside until my senses grow dull and my eyes flutter closed.

Somewhere inside that kiss, the tip of him nudges my entrance.

And that is when I feel it, truly feel it.

He grows with each inch forward. The bed cracks beneath us.

And he holds me there, the tip of him prods.

He crashes through my Maidenhead. I open my mouth and release a wordless scream.

He plunges deeper, and I don’t know what this feeling is.

“Even if half of London had fucked you first, I would still fuck you after,” he growls into my ear. “I will fuck your virgin cunt until you are dust and swollen with my seed…”

At his words, I cannot fight it. The beast is carnal deliverance. He strips me naked, he bites me with his words and need. Where Dorian rejects me, the monster consumes me. He strokes that tender bud until I see is white.

“I’ll fuck your virgin cunt until it dribbles inside your depraved arsehole and shines in the moonlight.”

Nectar gathers between the hilt of his cock and my lips.

That tail pulls. It yanks me apart. It sinks deeper.

And as it thrashes inside me, thoughts become mindless pictures, and his cock becomes revenge that preys.

And when he speaks, it does not abate. “I will fuck you until your body knows my taste, until your wicked Venus craves defilement.”

He pulls me closer, my sex stretched beyond limitations, until he’s all I feel, all hot and thick inside me. And that nub, it wants to be destroyed. The moan comes from nowhere. “Make me damned….ma ke me wicked.”

And then my limbs grow heavy, and heaviness weighs upon my shoulders like a thousand coats. Drats. The passionflower tincture Dorian imbibed earlier… He has developed an immunity. He requires a higher dosage each time…

And I?

I—

DORIAN

Her pulse slows beneath my hand. There is a final tremor and then, Katherine goes limp. With both arms, I catch her mid-fall. And there as she remains cradled, that internal cry of despair is furious by her stillness.

The Passionflower is working.

I hold her like that, with my cock still buried inside her, having returned to its usual girth, strained inside her tightness. It’s at this moment that as I move to withdraw, the action is too much. I am desperate to return.

She is yours.

Take her.

Fuck her.

The warmth and memories of her cries haunt me. With one single push, her wetness coaxes me within. I thrust, and shudder, balls tightening. Pleasure and warmth flood the length of my cock, scalding hot and sticky as I empty myself within her.

In her sleep, Katherine is oblivious to me, but her mouth parts.

Aching, I withdraw my cock, and the beast fully retreats.

There is still madness to me even though he is gone.

It has left nothing but desire in its wake.

I am spent upon the sheet with her blood beneath us.

At last, our marriage has been consummated. I run fingers through my hair.

There is no return from this…

I roll over, discard my clothes for the footman, William, and pull up the blankets, but sleep remains elusive. Through the hours, I observe the doors and the windows of the boat, hear and feel every creak as the boat glides over waves until morning rays bore through tiny holes inside the shutters.

Katherine moves in her sleep just enough to pull the blankets down.

A bare nipple is exposed, skin shining gold underneath the sun’s rays.

Deliciously wicked. I adjust the blankets until they conceal that nipple, all taut and beckoning.

My vision strays to her face as I bury that need, for nothing is more dangerous in this room than I.

After wiping clean away the evidence of my misdeeds with water inside a wash bowl, I return to my usual state of dress and collapse on a nearby armchair.

Sometimes the books on the shelf beside me are briefly read, other times, I scratch the pages inside my notebook with new ideas and inventions.

Later at sunrise, with my cravat loosened to the left side, I am dragged out of my chair by a knock at the door.

It is Nora with breakfast. She sets it on the table and leaves.

Afterwards, I return to my chair and there I remain, always watching, but never allowing my eyes to linger upon Katherine longer than I must.

Days pass and we do not speak. For hours in the morning and hours in the afternoon, I sit, and each time Katherine drifts into slumber, I am seated upright, and each morning she rises, I depart, and Nora arrives.

We do not speak.

That is the coward in me.

Katherine needn’t become hysterical, for I will remove myself. Where I go, Katherine does not know, for I do not say. But the servants talk. It will be a matter of time before she discovers the truth. Nora will leak such information and Katherine won’t be listless nor strained about my return.

Outside, William, my doorman, awaits my usual instructions. “Her Grace requires a bath of hot water, and prepare a late supper.

William bows his head. “Yes, Your Grace. Mr. Joseph Black, the acting captain. He says it is the final evening of our stay, but there is fog, Your Grace. We will dock in the morning.”

“Very good.”

I collect the flat purse tucked into the inner pocket of my waistcoat and retrieve two gold sovereigns, before placing them into William’s gloved hand. The young man bows his thanks, but I’ve no time to stay and waffle.

All that matters is that I have eyes and ears in every crevice aboard this ship. I cannot trust anyone but my own staff.

It is a matter of time before Nora says to Katherine. “In the afternoons, his Grace shares a port with Lord Gabriel. His visit to the brig ensures the captain and the steward remain locked away.”

I scoff at the image. Katherine knows not what games she plays, nor the risk they bring. My trip to the Brig is quick. I manage the usual check-in, before returning to the suite at precisely seven thirty, for supper.

There, Katherine awaits me, already dressed in a crimson gown, seated by candlelight and dotted with bouquets of roses.

The chorus of a string quartet meanders up the staircase and permeates the walls of the lavish room.

I take my usual seat across from her, dressed in a high-collared waistcoat, with my sleeves rolled, and the cravat gone.

Perhaps Henry, my butler, would scold me, but I do not care.

Henry is not here, and so I shall curse this fashion statement.

Plates are served on fine bone china, delivered by William. Tonight’s menu is abundant with venison and gravy.

“I will be outside,” William states with a hand behind his back.

As Katherine cuts her meat, and peers through the windows, a lighthouse strikes through the glass, revealing dense fog.

It’s tall in the distance, white with daubs of yellow that melts into the white clouds.

An Island city appears, stretching coast-to-coast; piercing through the fog to a needlepoint.

“Is that Ashwood?” She enquires.

“Yes.”

“It isn’t what I was expecting. It is quite…magical…”

“People often think it is a place with thatched homes and dirt roads instead of cobblestone. My father, the late Duke, rest his soul, he saw to it that Ashwood rivalled even London, itself.”

Katherine, with maddening skill, changes the topic. “So, what happens, now?

I have been ready for her probing questions. Her curiosity is as ravenous as mine. “The Bow Street runners are searching for the missing Earl, but you saw it yourself…”

Katherine nods. “He was a monster. We are without a body. They will find nothing. I do not have to wonder, husband, if you are embroiled in such a scandal. It is why you came to London. You followed Sainsbury.”

The fog grows denser, floating with my thoughts as I answer. “Yes. We will have to wait until morning to dock, lest the ship fall prey to a rocky shoreline.”

I sip my wine, with exhaustion hanging off my bones, enough that I do not recall ever blinking as I stare through the fog. Katherine calls my name, full of worry. Concern even. It has been three days of no sleep and no tincture. If time has passed in the last few seconds, I do not know.

“Dorian.”

I wonder if it is a trick designed to lull me or if she truly cares. Paranoia soon takes over.

Will she try and kill me again?

That would be best for everyone, but Katherine would never escape the gallows for killing a Duke. I drink my wine and glance at her. That solution will not do. Killing me won't be enough to save her.

“Dorian,” Katherine repeats. She is standing now, those brown eyes boring into mine, and her hand gently touching my forearm. “Are you feeling well? You are quite pale.”

I evade her question.

“You will remain at Ashwood Castle until the investigation is over. And then we will continue with our other plans.”

“To send me away?” She finishes with an upturned bottom lip. Her voice is full of judgment. I do not understand what she desires. If I think too hard, it’ll drive me mad.

I nod. “Until there is a cure, it is not safe for you to be around me, Katherine. We mustn’t rely on the devil’s luck.“

“A cure?” She repeats and takes her seat.

I don’t know how much I should reveal. But if she is to live inside the castle — even temporarily, she will know, soon enough. These moments of respite are an illusion. We will always be married. She will always be my wife.

“This affliction,” I say, “‘Twas made. It’s the truth I build for the answers I seek. It is the will of my mind. I can’t stop it.”

“The vials in your pockets,” she points out, “You’ve been burying yourself with poisons.” She faces me. “This is how you came to be?”

“Not poison…“ Katherine frowns as I dip into my jacket and hold up the tattered remnants of a scorched notebook. I hand it over. “But a cure.”

“What is this?” She asks.

I don’t reply. I only refill my wine glass and sip it slowly. She has never required my permission before, so why start today?

Her fingers tremble as much as mine as she opens it. After a few minutes, she finally speaks and I release a strained breath. “You dissected your own blood.”

“'Tis experimental philosophy.”

“You are an alchemist.”

“That is an outdated term. I am offended.”

She flips a page and taps on a crude drawing. “And what is this?”

“Schematics for my…things.”

“Things? Contraptions for your experiments, you mean?”

Exhaustion drags my body deeper into the chair. “One wrong catalyst… and I became what I feared. Twas an error of measurement. ”

Katherine’s eyes narrow. “Aid or ambition?”

I clench my fists. “I was seeking panacea.”

Her hands still over the pages that reek of ash. They shake alongside her voice. “The cure for all disease….” She stills. “I’ve seen enough. You didn’t stumble into this. You were not cursed. You have willed it upon yourself.”

She throws the book onto the table and the crystal sings. I won’t be explained away. “Back then, ‘twas worth the hunger, Katherine. The ache to drown every doubt and every regret. I couldn’t fight it.”

Her eyes turn cold. “I know enough. You hide amongst your tonics… but look deeper, Your Grace. The creature inside cannot exist without you.”

My jaw goes rock hard. “You know nothing of what I’ve endured. How I’ve suffered.” I bring the wine glass down on the table. It thuds loudly as it hits. “Christ! You think I wanted this madness?”

Yet, her eyes blaze with an equal fever. “No! But you drown yourself in rage and magic, all while pushing others away and in doing so, let it win!”

Scowling, I push myself off my chair and lean over the table, with both hands pressed at the edge.

“You pitiful woman dare lecture me? Do you know what it cost me to even hold on to my mind? To my humanity?! You, who has barely glimpsed the surface. You’ve seen nothing of the sacrifices. ” I turn away. “ It’s pathetic.”

“I’ve seen your journals filled with bleeding notes and your chamber of horrors — and this this marriage — a marriage you never wanted, only to protect those dark secrets! I know exactly who you are, Dorian Storm!”