Page 15 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

I jolted awake, the remnants of whatever dream had held me captive still clung to my consciousness, though I couldn’t remember any part of it beyond a sensation of being trapped and the heavy wet scent of the garden after it had rained—but why was I awake?

I lay there, staring up at the canopy above my bed as I tried to slow my breathing and calm my thundering heart.

I wasn’t a light sleeper—so something must have happened to wake me.

Then, in the silence, I heard a strange noise.

Chills rippled over my skin as the haunting sound came again.

Vision still hazy, I struggled to tell the difference between what was real and what was left over from my dream.

The lamps I’d left burning were low and the gauzy warmth was enough to comfort me just a little.

But what was making that sound?

I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The chill of the floor beneath my feet grounded me in reality, but the eerie noise persisted, and pulled me toward the windows like an otherworldly siren’s call.

“What is that?” I muttered, drawn to the mysterious source, yet repelled by it at the same time.

My fingers trembled slightly as I took hold of the heavy material and pulled back the curtain while fear and curiosity warred within me.

The thickness of the night made me blink—the garden was dark, and the guests had all dispersed… At least, I hoped they had. What had been a scene of merriment and celebration now appeared distorted and eerie, as if the festivities had been nothing more than a cruel illusion.

Moonlight caught the edges of the tulle and gauze that had been part of the wedding reception decor and their ghostly shapes fluttered in the dark garden.

Just then, the noise came again, louder this time and undeniably real. The noise was a guttural growl, primal and raw, as if some wild creature had been unleashed within the walls of Withermarsh.

“Get a grip,” I muttered as I dropped the curtain and let it fall back over the window.

With a deep breath, I stepped away from the window and crossed the room to the door. I laid my hand on the knob and swallowed hard—did I want to know what had made that noise?

With a twist of uncharacteristic curiosity, I turned the knob, opened the door, and followed the sound down the dark hallway. My pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I crept closer to the source of the disturbance.

“Mom?” I called out softly. If it was her— everything would be alright and I could go back to bed. It felt childish, but I hoped she would answer and dispel the nightmarish images that plagued my thoughts.

Instead, the only response was the unnerving sound growing louder, more desperate—as if it were calling out to me, begging me to find it.

The shadows clung to the walls, reaching out with grasping tendrils as I made my way down the hall.

The whispers and groans echoed through the dim hallway, growing louder and more distinct with each step I took. My heart pounded against my ribs, threatening to break free from its cage as dread clawed at my insides.

What are you doing? Go back to bed!

And yet, even as I questioned my actions, my feet continued to carry me towards the source of the disturbance.

As I approached my mother’s bedroom, a chill crept up my spine. The door stood ajar, allowing for slivers of light to escape and dance on the floor of the hallway. I hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to uncover the truth and the fear of what I might find.

“Mom?” I asked softly, my voice cracking. There was no response; only the sound of muffled gasps and the shuffling of bodies in motion.

With a final, desperate surge of bravery, I approached the door and peered through the opening.

The sight that greeted me was one I could never have expected, nor one I would ever forget.

Candles burned in enormous silver candelabras and their light played over bare skin. My mother, naked, knelt on the bed in front of her new husband.

“Lucian… please,” my mother groaned.

Lucian was a silhouette in the flickering glow, his body tensed like a predator ready to pounce. His pale hair spilled over broad shoulders and shimmered silver in the moonlight that flooded through the windows.

“I’ve been patient,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. But there was a hidden threat beneath the smooth surface—a chilling promise whispered in her ear. “Tonight, you are mine.”

I took an involuntary step back, scandalized and unable to tear my eyes from the scene. A perverse tableau.

Lucian’s laugh echoed through the room, and it bounced off the shadowy corners and chilled me to the bone.

It held no warmth, only cruel amusement—the laughter of a man who knew he held all the power and delighted in using it.

“Take what you want,” my mother’s voice was choked with lust—an offering made to a demon.

The corners of Lucian’s mouth twisted into a ruthless smile as he positioned himself behind my mother. His hands, like claws, came down on her bare hips, and I winced as his fingers dug into her flesh with deliberate possessiveness.

“I always do,” he replied, and his deep voice resonated through the room like a clap of thunder.

It was a statement of fact—no questions asked, no apologies given.

The dark power in his voice made my stomach churn.

A whimper escaped my mother’s lips—a sound full of surrender and desperate longing. I had never seen her like this before, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the shame of seeing her stripped bare and kneeling before a man like Lucian.

As much as I wanted to look away, I was helplessly drawn into the scene unfolding before me—like a moth to a deadly flame. My heart hammered against my chest and my breaths became shallow and labored.

My mother gasped, her back arching under Lucian’s touch as he pulled her back toward him.

Was I really going to stand there and watch?

I wanted to move. I wanted to run away.

But my feet seemed rooted to the floor.

Chained .

A sickness spread through me, like a poison seeping into my veins. This was a side of my mother I had never seen—this desperate, needy creature that writhed under Lucian’s commanding touch. The thought made bile rise in my throat.

A cruel knot twisted in my stomach as I watched my mother, bared to Lucian’s merciless gaze. His eyes glowed with a sadistic satisfaction as his long fingers kneaded into her tender, moonlit skin. His voice, cold and husky, echoed through the chamber, frosting my veins with terror. “Your submission—that is what I want.”

Lucian’s touch transformed my cold and imperious mother into a creature I didn’t recognize—his property. Ownership seeped from his every pore; it was there in his icy gaze and his calm demeanour that was laced with a savage anticipation. It was an ugly sight—degrading.

Each ragged breath she took tore at my heart and echoed loudly in the eerily silent room. “Yes…” she moaned and arched her back, pushing against him as he reached between her thighs.

“I need your cock,” she whimpered. “Take me—”

“Enough,” Lucian snapped, his voice cold and commanding. “I’ll decide what you need.” His words were a whip that snapped through the air and left a tense silence in their wake.

My mother bowed her head in submission, but her hands gripped the bedsheets as shivers of anticipation wracked her body. Her lips parted to utter a plea, but no sound escaped her.

Lucian was the embodiment of calm control. He watched my mother’s tremors with calculating eyes, savouring each nuanced reaction flowing through her body as he moved his fingers against her core. This was a game to him—an exercise of power over the vulnerable. A nauseating realization washed over me—this was who my mother had married... a predator.

Icy fingers crawled up my spine as his laughter echoed like shattering glass in the cavernous room. My hand flew up to my mouth to keep myself from crying out— though I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or disgust.

A wicked glint sparkled in Lucian’s eyes as he looked down on my mother, his fingers kneading into her flesh harder than before as she moaned and pushed back against his touch.

“Your body knows what it wants,” he murmured in a low, predatory growl. “It always does.”

Those words hung in the room like thick fog, ominous as the silence that swallowed us whole. His body moved against her in a rhythm that was painfully slow. Each movement of his hips caused my mother to whimper and squirm against him.

Suddenly, a gasp—a cry of pain or pleasure, I couldn’t tell—pierced the silence, but she quickly stifled it. The muscles of her back tensed and her breath hitched as she dug her nails into the bedspread beneath her.

The sight was too grotesque to bear, yet I was compelled to watch as Lucian methodically broke my mother down, piece by piece. His every touch, every word, was calculated. A spell woven in flesh and dark desire.

With each whispered command, he stripped away pieces of my mother’s dignity, exploiting her most vulnerable self for his own sick pleasure. Revulsion coiled tightly in my gut.

I couldn’t watch another second of this sick display—

I couldn’t—