Page 12 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

The moon’s face was veiled with silken clouds, but there were stars glittering high above, and the spectral light bathing the gardens transformed the massive topiaries and urns of flowers into ghostly silhouettes and strange shadows.

As I stepped out onto the cobblestone path, I took a deep breath to steady my erratic heartbeat. Even the beauty of the Withermarsh gardens seemed to have turned hostile under the imposing pallor of the moonlight.

Lucian and Julia danced in the garden's heart like figures in a haunted music box.

Music from the small quintet and the newlyweds’ laughter echoed through the chill air and bounced off stone statues that watched over their revels. The guests had formed a ring around them and their faces were alight with a hollow gaiety that made my stomach tighten. I kept to the outskirts of this rambunctious circle and hoped to remain unnoticed.

A sudden pang shot through me when I saw Lucian twirl Julia around as if they were two young lovers enamored with each other; my mother’s laughter sounded brittle and out of place .

A hush fell over the crowd as Lucian halted their dance and they shared a kiss under the moonlit sky. Polite applause scattered around me like dry leaves, and I could barely mask the visceral revulsion that lurched into my throat and burned there until I grabbed desperately for a glass of champagne from a passing servant.

But the tartness of the alcohol did nothing to ease the sense of dread that filled my chest and constricted my breath.

The pale flower arrangements and gauzy archways shimmered with a ghostly radiance and cast shadows that seemed to writhe like serpents at my feet.

The haunting elegance of the white roses clinging to the arches only heightened my anxiety.

As I navigated through the sea of guests, I couldn’t help but scan the crowd for any sign of Titus and his brothers. They were the last people I wanted to be confronted with tonight. My run-in with Titus had been more than enough…

I grimaced at the throb of need that seared through my body.

I didn’t want to respond to him like that—but the memory of the expression in his eyes and the heat of his body against mine—

Stop it.

I shook my head as if to dislodge the memory and kept my eyes focused anywhere but the couple who danced at the center of the garden as I moved through the crowd like a ghost.

A hand took hold of my arm and I let out a thin yelp as I whirled around. I’d expected to see Titus leering at me from the shadows, but instead, a servant fixed me with a wary gaze.

“Miss Velez— Are you—”

“I’m fine,” I blurted out. “What… what do you want?”

An insincere smile, one honed over years of service, crossed her face. “The guests are taking their seats for dinner,” she said. “You can find your seat at the table on the left side of the dais. ”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

The guests were, indeed, moving toward the tables that had been arranged on the lawns. I had never attended a wedding, and I had no idea what was expected, but the guests all seemed delighted with the novelty of dining under the stars. The impromptu dancing had been another unexpected treat, and as I moved through the tables, I overheard snatches of conversations rife with praise for the “eccentric” Romano family.

“Such exotic tastes,” a white-haired gentleman boasting a jowly laugh remarked to his feather-hatted companion. “He seems so taken with Julia—”

“Yes, indeed!” The lady agreed, her words were slurred under the sweet intoxication of champagne and the thrill of the evening. “Quite an enchanting affair.”

Nausea welled within me as their words trickled into my ears.

Exotic.

Enchanting.

They could toss around such words carelessly as they sat there adorned in strings of pearls and diamonds that sparkled beneath the moon’s luminescence. Even as they reveled in false pleasantries and faux hospitality, they overlooked the darkness that lurked just below the surface—but they had to know. All of them. They wouldn’t have been invited to an event like this if they didn’t know who Lucian truly was.

Necromi. All of them.

But that meant they knew who I was, too.

And who my father had been.

I didn’t even know…

The soft rustle of silk drew my attention back to the dais. Julia was now standing behind the decadently appointed table. Her face was flushed from dancing, and her dark eyes reflected the sickly glow of the tall candlesticks arranged around the table. Lucian loomed beside her, his pale eyes roamed over her body and his long-fingered hand hovered over her shoulder as he guided her to her seat.

A chilling gust tore through the garden, causing both guests and towering trees alike to shudder. The crowd held its breath collectively; only Lucian basked in this sudden coldness like one would in a summer’s breeze. Like a specter rising from its grave, he stepped toward Julia, and wrapped his arm around her waist in a possessive grasp.

“I welcome you all,” he began, his words seeping into every crevice of the garden like spilt ink over marble floors. His pale eyes glinted ominously under the spectral moonlight as he glanced at the assembled crowd. “To this celebration of newfound love and unity.” His fingers scraped along Julia’s spine as he pulled her closer, and cruel satisfaction was clear in his voice and gaze.

“But before we feast, let us raise our glasses to my beautiful bride—and to our future together.” With his free hand, he lifted a glass, and to my eyes, it seemed as though the wine within it glinted like blood under the moonlight. Black and thick.

Tinkling laughter and murmurs of approval echoed through the crowd. The clink of crystal against crystal filled the air as the guests toasted each other. Their eyes glittered with a hollow mirth that clawed at my senses as I watched this spectacle unfold with detached horror. My fingers clutching onto my own untouched glass so tightly that it threatened to shatter.

The air around me grew heavy as I made my way toward the head table. I hadn’t spoken to my mother at all—and the beautiful creature who sat at Lucian’s side seemed like a stranger.

Her gaze fell upon me as I approached, and the weight of my mother’s coldness settled on my shoulders.

“Avi, there you are,” my mother drawled, her voice dripping with scorn. “I wish I’d known that you’d chosen that gown—” Her perfectly painted lips twisted slightly. “That diamond pin—did you do that yourself?”

“I— The strap broke,” I choked out.

Her eyebrow rose slightly. “Did it?”

I tightened my grip on the champagne glass and blinked away tears I hoped wouldn’t fall.

“I— I wanted to congratulate you,” I stammered. “The ceremony— it was beautiful.”

As I spoke, Lucian’s hand, hidden beneath the tablecloth, caught my eye.

The movement was subtle, but the way he moved was deliberate and precise and the smile on my mother’s lips was strange. I tried to pull my eyes away, but horror and fascination held them captive, knowing he was pleasuring my mother with that same hand.

But Lucian’s pale eyes never left mine, and their predatory gleam sent shivers down my spine. There was a twisted pleasure in his gaze, as if he enjoyed making me watch this perverse act.

“Julia, my love,” Lucian murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Avril looks wonderful tonight. I believe your daughter has quite the eye for fashion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose,” my mother replied, her voice strained as she fought to maintain her composure. “A pity she doesn’t have much else going for her.”

“Excuse me,” I said abruptly, “I should find my place—”

“You will,” Lucian said as I turned away.

As I walked back toward the seat I’d been assigned, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Lucian’s eyes still on me and my skin crawled with the knowledge of it and what he was doing.

The walk to my assigned seat felt like an eternity. The pervading laughter of the guests echoed in my ears as my gaze remained fixated on the table where my seat was. Everything around me was a blend of specters bathed in diluted gold and silver—the resplendent finery and hollow happiness of the guests set against the oppressive backdrop of the estate was enough to make me feel unsteady and more than a little ill.

Had the champagne gone to my head already?

As I weaved through the crowd, snippets of hushed whispers reached my ears.

“There she is... Such a pity.”

“Lucian is a lucky man—look at Julia—such a beautiful bride.”

“And more— She is the lucky one—”

I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the conversations, but the insidious undercurrent in their words cut deep into my whirling thoughts.

They could all see what was happening at the table, and the way my mother moved—how could she allow him to do that to her in front of all their guests? It was unseemly—

She’s a whore. You’ve always known it.

You’re just like her.

The voice in my mind was hard and dark, and I froze in place as I looked for Titus and his brothers… but I couldn’t see them amid the crowd, or in the shadows at the edge of the tables.

I quickened my pace even as my cheeks burned with shame.

Soon enough, I reached my assigned place.

The pointed snub couldn’t have been more obvious.

My seat was situated towards the edge of a long table—exactly where one would place someone they deemed insignificant—but not far enough away from Lucian and Julia’s extravagant head table that I couldn’t see them. My mother’s head fell back as she laughed, but I wondered if the laughter was to cover her gasp of ecstasy.

My eyes swam with unshed tears as I took in my surroundings. A flaccid bouquet of pale Sadelion flowers next to a plate filled with elegantly arranged food stared back at me. Their scent—a sickening blend of decay and sweetness—invaded my nostrils and made me want to gag.

Ignoring the prying eyes of the other guests, I kept my gaze downcast and tried to focus on my plate. It wasn’t long before my mother’s laughter cut through the general hum of conversations, forcing me to look up and watch quietly as Lucian’s hand reappeared above the lavish tablecloth.

He kept his pale eyes locked on her as he slowly sucked his fingers, and then took a sip of his dark wine.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, hot and sickening. As much as I wished to cover my eyes and ears, to bury myself away from this all-consuming agony, I couldn’t. I was paralyzed by the enthralled spectators who seemed to gorge on everything they were seeing with a sense of twisted delight.

Amidst the courtly laughter and hushed whispers, I could sense a malicious undertone. It was as if they were all searching for the next scandal or drama to feed their insatiable appetite for gossip.

Their eyes feasted on the spectacle before them; taking in every detail with morbid fascination.

My heart pounded in my chest and pressed like a heavy stone against my lungs. Every intake of breath was short and ragged as I fought against the overpowering urge to weep in despair–or worse still—to scream in apoplectic rage at them all. Couldn’t they see what was happening? Weren’t they horrified or, at the very least, scandalized?

How were they able to eat?

How could they drink?

I stared at the goblet of wine someone had poured for me without my notice. I grabbed it with a shaking hand and brought it to my lips.

Under the moonlight and the strangeness of the candlelight, the wine changed color from deep blood red to black as it sloshed in the glass and my stomach churned.

Blood and ink.

Two powerful items that bound my mother to Lucian.

They drank wine that they had tainted with each other’s blood, then signed their names to the contract.

It was done, and there was nothing I could do.

Just as she was Lucian’s possession—his wife—and I was a Romano now, too.

As realization washed over me, the garden began to spin. The laughter and whispers echoed in my ears, amplified tenfold. The metallic clink of glasses and silverware against plates rang in my thoughts and drowned out everything else.

I put the wineglass down and gripped the edge of the table to steady myself, but it was in vain.

Fingers of icy dread wove their way up my spine and clamped down on my heart, squeezing it until I barely had breath left. My skin felt cold and clammy and my eyes stung from the tears I was desperately holding back.

My gaze found Julia again—my mother.

She was radiant as she basked in the dark glow of Lucian’s twisted adoration. She had barely acknowledged me… insulted me…

A bitter taste rose in my throat—a grotesque cocktail of rejection, shame, betrayal...

I had to leave.

I had to—

Someone swept the dinner plates away from the table, and I wondered how long I had sat there, trying not to throw up, as the reception had whirled around me.

Music filled the air, and it seemed as though everyone was taking advantage of the opportunity to dance.

Maybe now I could escape .

I rose from my chair, my gown rustling around me as I did. A chandelier strung above the courtyard to light the dance floor cast a haunting yellow glow over the area, and grotesque shadows danced and capered over the stone paving.

The musicians continued to play, and couples swayed and spun across the dance floor. A tilt of an arm here, a sly grin there. They were all entranced in their own world—as if this was normalcy and not a horrific pantomime of debauchery.

Looking over my shoulder one last time at the table, now sullied by despicable decadence, I caught sight of Lucian and Julia together again. They danced in unison with the same gruesome fascination they had shared at the table.

Dismayed, I averted my eyes and started towards the fringes of the manicured estate grounds where dense trees promised seclusion from the fête’s madness—when a smooth voice broke through my thoughts.

“Leaving so soon?”

Lucian and my mother moved through the crowd of guests toward me, and I swallowed hard.

The Romano patriarch was eerily handsome, and the strange light that filled the gardens hollowed his cheeks and made his eyes look even more pale and haunting.

With great effort, I forced myself to hold a neutral expression on my face despite my better instinct screaming for me to run away.

Being drawn into a conversation was the last distraction I needed—but politeness bound by societal rules was deeply ingrained.

“I— I am just feeling a little— No.” I managed to smile. “The evening has been so… overwhelming and lovely.”

“Very kind,” he said. “You are a Romano now, too, my dear.” He released his grip on my mother’s waist and moved toward me with unexpected grace. He took my hand in his and his fingers traced cold lines against my palm. “And you are most welcome to this family.”

He leaned close and pressed a kiss against my cheek, close to the corner of my mouth, and I stiffened just a little. The kiss lingered longer than I would have liked, and I glanced desperately toward my mother, but another guest’s fervent congratulations kept her attention elsewhere.

“I have always wished for a daughter,” Lucian murmured in my ear. “How fortunate for me that you are just as beautiful as your mother—” he pulled away and his icy gaze raked over my body. “Perhaps more beautiful—”

I felt strangely exposed under his gaze, and I fought the urge to cover my breasts with my hands.

“Darling—” my mother said as she swept back to Lucian’s side.

He released his grip on my hand as she pressed against him.

The jeweled crown upon her head glittered darkly as she lifted her chin to look at me. “We are being called to dance.”

“Of course,” Lucian said with an indulgent smile. “How could I refuse my bride anything on this night?”

My mother’s eyes narrowed as she looked at me, and saying nothing to me, she moved closer to Lucian and pressed her lips against his. Lucian and my mother kissed passionately and recklessly, and I tried to avert my eyes, but I couldn’t look away. Lucian’s hand fell upon her narrow waist and then moved up to her breast, and I murmured another attempt at congratulations before I forced myself to turn away.

Escape .

That was my single-minded focus as I stumbled away from the revolting spectacle unfolding behind me.

Each inhale brought the scent of the garden, where the bitter sweetness of dampened soil intermingled with the heavy cloud of incense and alcohol .

I could still feel Lucian’s touch, just as cold and invasive as his icy gaze.

The tingling sensation of his kiss lingered on my skin like a curse and I rubbed at my face with the back of my hand to scour it away—but there was nothing that would wipe the stain of this night from my memories.

The scent of him lingered on me; cold, metallic, and laced with something darker that seemed to penetrate every fiber of my being. Panic welled up within me; I felt nauseous as his words replayed themselves over and over again in my head.

“You are a Romano now...”

No matter how hard I tried to shake it off, to rationalize it as a customary expression of welcome, something about his tone sent chills down my spine.

I had to escape this place.

But how?