Page 21 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

I stared at the raindrops that raced down the windowpane and imagined that each one was trying to escape this suffocating place just as I wished to.

But they were succeeding.

Water always finds a way.

“From sorrow comes joy.”

Lucian’s words tumbled through my mind like wet leaves, and they filled me with a dread I couldn’t shake—he intended to marry me.

We’d barely spoken.

It was… impossible.

My stomach churned as I tried to push my memories of the funeral away.

But the heavy crash of the mausoleum door rang in my ears, and all I could see was the heavy stone door as it swung closed and hid my mother’s casket from view.

I tried to concentrate on the raindrops that pelted the windows.

Heavy clouds had wreathed Withermarsh since that day, and I hadn’t left my room since they brought me back to the estate.

Every night I’d listened to my stepbrothers as their motorcycles roared away from the house, but I hadn’t spoken to any of them.

Not even Valen.

The shadows that loomed in my mirrors had disappeared, and there was a strangeness to their absence.

As much as I’d hated being watched—it seemed I’d been abandoned by the very men I’d feared.

Shame burned through me as I thought of Valen—and the expression on Titus and Bastian’s faces when Lucian had made that terrible announcement.

Amid all the hollow congratulations from the people who had been invited to mourn my mother’s passing, their faces were the ones I remembered most clearly.

But not just their expressions.

It was how their gazes had made me feel.

Exposed.

Powerless.

Alone.

At least the shadows in the mirror had kept me company—knowing that I was being watched had been… comforting.

No.

Not comforting.

It was creepy .

Stalkerish.

Invasive.

I hated wondering if they were watching me—but what other explanation could there be for the shadows in my mirrors… I could feel their eyes everywhere.

What did they want with me, anyway?

I wasn’t important. I hadn’t asked for this .

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them as I stared at the silvered raindrops.

A knock on the door startled me more than I wanted to admit and I turned my head toward the door as it opened and a servant stepped into the room.

“Yes? I’m not hungry—”

The woman didn’t smile. “Miss Velez, the Master has invited you to join him for supper this evening.”

Her tone was polite, but it held an undercurrent of command.

I wanted to refuse, but what choice did I have?

My hands tightened on my knees.

“Very well,” I replied.

The rain pattered harder against the window.

Her smile was brief. “You’ll be expected to join him in the dining room at seven thirty. Also,” the woman continued, her face expressionless, “you will be moving to another room.”

“Moving?” I stammered and a knot tightened in my stomach. “But why?”

“Master Romano’s orders, Miss.” She stepped aside as other servants entered my room. I stared in disbelief as they moved through the room and gathered up my belongings.

“Where am I going?” My voice cracked as I demanded an answer, realizing the loss of even the small sanctuary they’d provided.

“The Mistress’ suite, Miss Velez.”

My heart lurched strangely in my chest.

“I— I can’t—”

That was my mother’s room.

The idea of taking up residence in the space where she’d died felt— It was a desecration of her memory.

An insult.

How could he ask me to do this? How —

Yet, once again, I found myself powerless against Lucian’s whims.

“Please,” I whispered as desperation clawed at my throat, “I don’t want to move.”

“Miss Velez,” the servant replied, her voice devoid of any warmth or sympathy, “you have no choice.”

As they continued to pack away my belongings, I clenched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth as my nails dug into my palms. The sting of pain provided a fleeting moment of clarity.

“Alright,” I choked out. “I’ll join Lucian for supper and... I’ll move into my mother’s room.”

The servants’ faces remained impassive, but their movements revealed their satisfaction in carrying out Lucian’s orders.

They didn’t care how I felt.

Why would they?

As the room emptied around me, I could only sit there, numb, as the walls breathed loneliness into the space they’d stripped of me.

“Come along, Miss Velez.” The words were a command more than coaxing, and I stood without hesitating to follow her out of the room and into the hallway.

My mind raced with horror at what was happening.

My mother had died in this room—

No. She had been murdered in this room.

“You don’t have to worry,” the servant said, and I wondered if she could hear my thundering thoughts. “The room has been carefully cleaned and cleared of anything—unexpected.”

The word was jarring. “Unexpected?”

She turned her head slightly, and I saw her smile. “The sigils have been reset and a thorough cleansing has been done.”

“What do you mean unexpected?” I pressed. I didn’t try to hide the desperation in my voice.

“Nothing at all,” she replied. “I think you’ll be very comfortable here. The suite is much larger than what you had before.”

As if that was supposed to make me feel better.

Ahead of us, the servants carrying my clothing and belongings veered away and descended the grand staircase.

“Where— where are they taking—?” I choked out. Fear gripped my spine as I watched them.

“You won’t need those things,” the servant said.

“What—”

The woman stopped in front of the double doors that led into my mother’s suite and opened the door. She gestured for me to cross the threshold first and looked at me expectantly as I hesitated.

The woman cleared her throat, and I flinched at her irritation. I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

I had imagined it to be colder, somehow darker—a room stained in anguish with the echo of my mother’s last breath still lingering.

But it was warm and inviting, with a fire burning in the hearth, and its large windows, framed by plush velvet drapes, overlooked the dark wilderness that enveloped Withermarsh’s borders in an almost mesmerizing way.

But as soon as I entered the room, my body stiffened. The room was saturated with unfamiliar magic—was it the cleansing and fresh sigils that had been set over the room? Or was it Lucian’s magic still lingering in the corners?

It seeped from the perfectly made bed, the plush carpeting, even the air.

I tried to ignore the prickle against my skin and took a deep breath as I looked around the room. Someone had carefully appointed and meticulously cleaned everything—it was a display in a shop window rather than a room where someone lived, or in this case, died .

I could hardly stand it.

The servant cleared her throat behind me, and I turned slightly back toward her and hoped she wouldn’t notice the tears that pricked at my eyes. “You will find your new clothing selections in the wardrobe, Miss Velez,” she said.

More clothes I hadn’t chosen for myself.

I was certain they would be just as stylish and unfamiliar as the clothing in my wardrobe had been when I’d first arrived at Withermarsh.

I nodded stiffly and my gaze landed on the large walk-in closet briefly before returning to the bed. An image of Lucian and my mother—together on that bed—flashed into my mind, and I blinked it away.

As if everything else wasn’t enough. I pictured Lucian, tall and imposing in his dark attire, commanding this servant to ensure everything was ‘perfect’ for me.

“Miss Velez, you should begin preparing for your dinner with Master Romano,” the woman said. Her detached words prompted my nod, but the action felt puppet-like and strange.

“Of course,” I replied stiffly as I turned toward the walk-in closet that housed more clothes than I could ever wear in a lifetime.

“I’ll leave you to dress,” she said. “If you need anything, all you need do is ring the bell—”

I paused. “The bell?”

She gestured vaguely to a silken cord that hung just beside the bed. “Someone will come to assist you if you require it. But I shall be back to fetch you when the time comes.”

“Sure.”

The woman turned away briskly and pulled the door closed behind her as she stepped out of the room.

She hadn’t come past the doorway — was something keeping her from entering the room ?

No. That was ridiculous.

If I’d had the choice, I wouldn’t have come in here, either.

The room was silent as I slipped out of my shoes and walked across the dark plush carpet toward the closet.

As I stepped inside, the decadent gowns seemed to close in around me, a forest of silk and satin. All chosen for me. Colors that someone else preferred. Tailoring and necklines that pleased an eye that wasn’t my own.

It felt wrong, degrading even, to dress in these garments meant for someone else’s gaze. But what choice did I have?

My hands trembled as I selected a midnight-black gown with delicate lace sleeves and a pair of black satin, gold-soled heels that would match perfectly.

I didn’t need to try the dress on to know that it would fit like a second skin.

I returned to the room and draped the gown over the end of the bed and set the shoes down on the carpet before I turned to the vanity.

The items on the surface of the table were different—or maybe I wasn’t remembering it properly.

Elegant perfume bottles, golden pots of cream, and a collection of unfamiliar makeup brands had been artfully arranged on the marble surface. I touched each of them reverently before lifting the perfume bottles to my nose to inhale their scent.

Dark and spicy florals dominated the collection, each one a unique collection of notes designed to tantalize and intrigue. It occurred to me that Lucian had probably chosen these as well. But even knowing this didn’t make the perfumes any less exquisite. One, in particular, caught my attention—a haunting blend of heady jasmine and smoky frankincense that seemed to catch the undercurrent of my mood perfectly.

Suddenly tired of carrying my own weight, I slid onto the velvet stool in front of the vanity and let out a shaky breath. Putting makeup on seemed an almost impossible task, but I knew it would be expected.

I opened the vanity drawers, looking for anything to put in my hair—I couldn’t go to dinner in an elegant dress with my hair in a messy bun.

Black hair pins would have to do. I pulled them from the drawer and set them down on the marble vanity.

With fingers that shook more than I wanted them to, I pulled my hair down from its bun and combed through the unruly waves before pinning back one side just over my ear.

Simple but elegant. It would have to do.

I sifted through the various cosmetics until I located the foundation—a creamy formula inside an ornate glass jar that matched my skin tone perfectly.

Of course it did.

My haunted eyes stared back from my reflection, but I looked more rested. It was something.

Next was a palette of cool-toned shadows; dark plums and smoky grays. I would never have been brave enough to wear those shades if they weren’t my only option. Lucian’s tastes were very specific. Dark. Elegant. Smoky. I hesitated before selecting a brush to apply the pigment to my eyelids—I wasn’t used to all of this.

My reflection stared back at me from the vanity’s broad mirror. I didn’t look like myself.

But I didn’t look like my mother, either.

She had only complained about my features once—she’d said I looked too much like my father.

My memory of that conversation was sharp—and I remembered the bitterness in her voice as she’d spoken those words.

When I’d asked her to explain, she had waved me away. It occurred to me at that moment that I didn’t even know what my father looked like.

I’d never seen a photograph of him or heard anyone speak his name…

Traitor.

The whisper was a hiss in my ear and I stared into the mirror, expecting to see the looming shadows that had haunted me in my old bedroom.

But the silvered surface was empty save for my wide-eyed reflection.

I gritted my teeth and set down the eyeshadow brush.

“Stop it,” I muttered as I selected a mascara and swept the thick black liquid over my lashes.

I blinked, trying to adjust to the weight of the mascara and the unfamiliar, stark blackness of it. I reached for a lipstick next—a deep shade of garnet. I held the lipstick tube in my hand and stared at my reflection. The girl in the mirror was a stranger. Someone I could never imagine I would become.

I used a small amount of dark lipstick, smearing it across my lips, and frowned at my reflection as the lipstick settled into a soft stain. It wasn’t my style—none of this was—but it suited the dark dress I’d chosen, and I knew Lucian would approve.

There was no room for rebellion here.

And no telling what might happen if I chose to defy him.

Maybe that was what had happened to my mother—maybe she had argued with him, or refused him something he had demanded of her. He seemed like the sort of man who had never experienced the concept of rejection.

Numbly, I rose from the stool and walked over to the bed where the dress lay.

I slid into it without much thought, without glancing at myself in any reflective surfaces scattered across the room. Confronting that ghostly image once more would be overwhelming—I didn’t want to see just how much I was beginning to lose myself.

The dress fitted me perfectly—as if sewn on me directly—and the fabric slid over my skin like a lover’s caress. I stepped into the shoes carefully.

Dread coiled in my gut as I smoothed the fabric down over my hips. A snakeskin pattern I hadn’t noticed when I’d selected the gown was now visible, and it undulated over my waist and hips as I moved.

My chest flickered with a rush of sudden anxiety. The dress, the shoes, the makeup - it was all so foreign. One look into the broad mirror once again, and I knew - I was almost unrecognizable. Was this what Lucian wanted? A painted doll who did his bidding?

A cursed doll.

I forced my shoulders back and lifted my chin.

I wasn’t ready, but I had to go before someone came to fetch me.

I made my way to the grand dining hall where Lucian awaited.

My memories of the dining hall were blurry at best, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed since I’d been there last. The extravagant space was lit by opulent chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceilings. The lighting and the lowered chandeliers made the space seem more intimate, rather than cavernous. Columns of black marble framed the arched entrance, and a large mahogany table occupied the space, but only two chairs were set there. The table held silver candelabras, and gold-edged porcelain plates were set on a fine black damask tablecloth.

As I entered the room, Lucian stood abruptly and his moonlit hair caught the flecks of candlelight .

His pale eyes flickered over me as I entered, and a satisfied smirk played on his lips as if my appearance pleased him.

“Avril, you look stunning,” he purred. He extended a hand toward me and I hesitated for only a moment before I laid my hand in his.

As soon as he touched me, a jolt ran down my spine, a blend of disgust and terror that I fought to conceal.

I gritted my teeth as he tightened his grip on my fingers and pulled my hand to his lips so that he could press them against my knuckles in a lingering kiss. “Wonderful,” he breathed before he guided me to my seat. “I hope you’re hungry. I had the chef prepare a special meal for us.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, forcing a smile as I slid into the chair he pulled out for me.

He pushed in the chair, moving elegantly and smoothly. He took his seat opposite me and his pale predator’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as they swept over me.

A plethora of dishes, each more enticing than the last, covered the lavish table.

Each bite felt like swallowing a stone, my stomach twisting with unease as the meal began.

Lucian, however, seemed to relish every morsel, his coldly impassive face breaking into fleeting smiles as he sampled dish after dish.

“Tell me about your time at Messana Academy.” Lucian’s voice was silk over steel, each word calculated to pry open the doors to my trust. “You were quite the prodigy, or so I’ve heard.”

“I— I don’t know about that,” I said as my cheeks warmed.

He chuckled softly at my discomfort, and his ice-cold eyes softened just a little. “Nonsense.”

“No— it’s true. I— my power is weak. I’m not… I’m not very good—” my voice trailed away. I had almost said something ab out my mother’s power. Power I should have inherited at her death.

Power that had been stolen from me.

I looked up and met Lucian’s gaze, but his expression hadn’t changed.

“Perhaps you just haven’t had the right teacher…”

A chill ran down my spine at his words. How much did he really know about me?

Conversation flickered and died like the candle flames around us as the night grew deep. Lucian continued to eat while I pushed food around my extravagant plate, barely able to muster an appetite while my mind whirled with questions and my gaze darted to every shadow, fearful of what it might hold.

Were we being watched?

Where were Lucian’s sons?

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the room, stirring us out of our silent meal. Lucian’s eyes flashed with irritation and his mouth twisted briefly before his expression smoothed back into a mask of indifference.

“Enter,” he commanded.

A servant scurried into the room, eyes lowered in deference to Lucian. “My apologies, master, but there is an urgent matter requiring your attention.”

“Very well,” Lucian replied, his voice icy. He turned back to me, his icy demeanor replaced by a smooth smile that seemed more false than anything. “It seems I must attend to some business, my dear. Please enjoy the rest of your meal. We’ll speak again very soon. I promise. We have a great deal to discuss.”

Did we?

He rose from his seat in a fluid motion and walked around the table toward me. He laid a hand on my shoulder, and I could feel the chill of his fingertips through the rich fabric of my gown.

He said nothing, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary before he swept out of the room and left me alone with the heavy silence and the remains of our lavish feast.

I stared at the empty chair across from me and tried to bring my breathing back under control. Despite my fear of him, I couldn’t deny the strange pull he had over me.

Within the silence of the room, my thoughts spiraled back into focus.

With shaking hands, I pushed my chair away from the table and got up, leaving behind the unfinished meal and a goblet of half-sipped wine.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I couldn’t stay here.