Page 25 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

I was angry at myself for breaking down in front of Valen.

I should have known better to be vulnerable in front of a Romano.

But I was angrier at him for the obvious delight he’d taken in my misery.

I should never have trusted him—I should never have asked him for the truth.

My stomach churned as I remembered the way he’d relished my reactions and my pain.

Idiot.

The oppressive gloom of Withermarsh was impossible to escape—and I’d decided that it matched my mood.

I pulled my cashmere shawl tighter around my shoulders as I walked through the winding garden pathways. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stay in the house.

But being in the garden was its own kind of torture. Every turn, every alcove, reminded me of the wedding, and in my mind I could see the decor that had occupied the space on the night of my mother’s wedding to Lucian .

Lanterns swinging in the gentle breeze.

The overpowering scent of flowers and incense.

Inescapable.

The same flowers that had filled the house before her funeral.

Stifling a sob, I pressed the back of my hand firmly against my mouth to force the memories back as best I could. I swallowed hard and continued down the path, but averted my eyes as I passed the grassy clearing they had turned into a dance floor on the wedding night. The grotesque image of Lucian and my mother swaying together amid their guests speared into my mind and I closed my eyes tight as I hurried past.

Rain fell in a fine mist that dampened my cheeks and clung to my hair, but I didn’t care.

I walked until the rainfall blurred the world’s edges, and the wind swept my sobs away, muffling them into whispers.

I didn’t belong here—I didn’t belong in this place under the watchful eye of the creatures that inhabited its darkest corners.

But that was my reality now—and there was no escape.

“Avril.”

The voice jolted me from my numb stupor and my fingers tightened on the edges of my shawl as a figure stepped out from behind a meticulously sculpted topiary.

Valen.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Valen’s voice was smooth as silk, and I shrank away from him.

Instantly suspicious, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why? Thought of more shitty things to tell me about my dead family?”

His smile was charming—too charming—as he shook his head. “No,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve been thinking about your predicament.”

“Have you?” I snapped. “Are you sure you haven’t just come to mock me some more? Want to call my mother a whore or my father a traitor again? I’m not in the mood. ”

As angry as I was, I couldn’t shake away the shiver that Valen’s enigmatic smile sent rippling down my spine.

His dark eyes gleamed as he looked me up and down. “You’re being unfair, Avril.” The tone of his voice was even, steady. “I wasn’t mocking you. I just answered your questions. It was the truth.”

“The truth?” I practically spat out the words. “You can’t expect me to—”

“Why would I lie?” he interrupted me. “What would I have to gain?”

“I don’t know,” I said desperately. “I can’t read your mind—”

Ignoring my ire, Valen took another step closer, invading my personal space. I held my ground and did my best to refuse to let him see just how much his presence unnerved me.

His eyes met mine with an intensity that stirred my fears and desires in equal measure.

“I came here for you, Avril,” Valen continued.

“Do you think that means something to me?” I retorted. The bitterness in my voice was far more potent than I intended.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really,” he replied, a playful smirk etched onto his face. “At least not yet.”

“Then why did you come?” I fired back, frustrated by the sense of intrigue he was attempting to weave around himself.

“You may hate me for what I told you,” Valen confessed, and the edge of sincerity in his voice surprised me. “But it doesn’t change anything. The past makes us who we are, whether we like it or not.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Valen retorted. “Your past is hard to look at—but you can’t ignore it.”

His words angered me, but I couldn’t deny the wave of unease that washed over me.

Was he right ?

“You’re such an ass,” I muttered under my breath, and looked away from his penetrating gaze.

He laughed softly in response, his eyes still fixed on me as he took another step closer. I instinctively edged back and created a gap between us that was both too wide and too narrow. The wind picked up around us and carried with it a hint of freshly blooming roses and wet earth—Withermarsh in its raw form.

“Am I really the villain here?” he asked suddenly.

I flinched at his forwardness. Deep down, a part of me understood what he meant. None of this was his fault. But couldn’t he understand that every word he uttered was like a dagger through my heart?

“We’ll never be on the same side, Valen,” I spat back at him. “You belong with them—with Lucian and your brothers.”

To my surprise, he didn’t smile at that.

His chuckle was so soft that I almost didn’t hear it. “Do you really think so?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’m not going to ask you to forget what I said. I think you should embrace it.”

I scoffed at that. “Embrace it? What did you say— Kill or be killed? I already told you I’m not like you. I never will be.”

Valen inclined his head, not reacting to my disbelief. “Use your pain, Avril. Let it make you stronger.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I muttered bitterly.

“It’s not— Not if you’re alone.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, and I fought to keep still. “You already suspect it— But my father’s intentions toward you are far from benevolent. I can offer you protection from him— Titus, Bastian and I— We can help you escape this place.”

“What—”

He held up a hand. “But there’s a price. ”

“Of course there is,” I muttered bitterly. I knew I shouldn’t trust him—but part of me longed for any reprieve from Lucian’s dark desires and the fate that awaited me.

“Your submission,” he said without hesitation. “Submit to me and my brothers.” His chin lifted. “If you do whatever we desire, we’ll protect you from Lucian.”

My stomach churned at the thought, and my mind reeled with disgust and terror.

Yet, somewhere beneath it all, a small spark of curiosity flickered to life.

What would it be like to be theirs, to give in to their dark allure?

As quickly as the thought surfaced, I stomped it down, ashamed of my weakness.

“Is that really my only option?” I asked.

“Unless you think you can survive this place without our help—” Valen replied in a tone that sounded like mockery. “I’ll give you time to think about it, but not too much time— You’ll be our stepmother soon, and that could get a little… awkward.”

Cold rushed through my body at his use of that title, and I choked back a whimper as a conspiratorial smile spread over his face.

It was then that I noticed Titus lingering in the shadows, watching us with a predatory gaze.

He seemed to enjoy my fear and revulsion at their demand.

“Did Titus put you up to this?” I asked in a strangled voice.

“It was my idea,” Valen said. “There’s nothing free in this world, little bird. You give us what we want, and you’ll get what you want.”

My gaze darted between him and Titus. “And what do you think I want?”

“Freedom,” he replied.

“Take all the time you need, sister,” Titus drawled from the darkness. His voice was smooth, but it held an edge of malice, too. “But remember, the clock is ticking.”

Valen looked over his shoulder to glare at his brother, but Titus just smiled.

“Think about it,” Valen said to me. “We’ll be waiting.”

As they departed, leaving me alone in the gloom, my thoughts raced.

Was this really my only chance at escape?

Could I really submit to them?

And was the protection they offered worth sacrificing my dignity…

I rubbed a hand over my face, wiping away the moisture that clung to my skin.

Whatever warmth the shawl had provided when I’d started my walk was gone and I was chilled to the bone.

I rushed back toward the house, terrified that my stepbrothers would leap out from behind the foliage at any moment—but the garden was silent in the gloom and I reached the house unscathed. As my feet touched the stone portico, thunder rumbled in the dark clouds that had gathered and the mist-like rain became the patter of heavy droplets.

“Just in time,” I whispered.

As I turned to open the door, I noticed my hands trembling and the soft patina of dew on my skin reflected the strange mid-afternoon light.

It was only then that the weight of what had transpired began to sink in. I was trapped here—and the very people I was forced to rely on to help me seemed to delight in tormenting me.

What would I be agreeing to—if I did agree…

Submit to us.

My breath hitched as the door opened and I stepped into the mansion’s opulent hallway. The house was quiet, except for the distant echo of rain against the stone facade. The looming quiet was ominous after my confrontation with Valen and Titus. Not to mention the fact that Lucian’s shadow loomed in every hallway—I hadn’t seen him since our interrupted dinner, but I could feel his presence in the house.

I tread softly through the darkness and each footfall echoed off marbled floors with icy dread.

The darkness of the storm that hovered over Withermarsh enveloped everything in a massive shroud.

My suite seemed miles away as I navigated the haunted maze of the mansion, and I had to bite back a cry of relief as I finally came to the grand staircase that led to the second floor.

The house no longer felt safe, not with its owners’ cunning plans lurking around every corner, ready to ensnare me at their leisure.

Valen and Titus’s proposition repeated in my mind in time with the crash of thunder and the tattoo of the rain on the windows.

Was it really better to give in to them than it was to accept what Lucian offered me?

If I accepted my fate, Lucian would be the end of me—

But if I chose submission, how much longer would his sons let me live?

A crack of thunder matched the frantic beat of my heart as I ascended the staircase towards my room. Every step felt heavy, but as I approached the ornate wooden door, a sense of relief flooded through me.

I was safe behind that door.

Safe enough, anyway.

As quietly as possible, I turned the brass knob and pushed open the door. The room was dimly lit by dancing shadows from ornate lamps that flickered at strategic points throughout the room and filled it with a soft and comforting light .

The fireplace had been lit, and the crackle of the burning logs set me a little more at ease.

I stepped into the room, closed the door behind me, and pressed myself against it.

My breathing was ragged—but whether it was from relief or fear, I wasn’t sure.

After a long shower, I finally felt more like myself—but while I’d been able to chase the chill from my bones, the dread remained.

Wrapped in a fluffy robe with my hair in a towel, I sat at my vanity, and tried to organize my expensive perfumes and luxurious makeup to distract myself from my racing thoughts. I touched every item with hesitant fingers—it was still hard to believe that all of it was mine.

And that it was only mine because my mother was dead.

To make everything worse—I was painfully aware that Lucian had selected everything in this room, and that knowledge tainted some of the awe that I held for the gilded items in front of me.

A soft knock on my door startled me from my trance, and I hesitated before calling out, “Come in.”

A servant entered the room, bearing a dark green velvet box upon a silver tray. “A gift arrived for you, Miss Velez,” she said with a smooth smile that held no emotion or softness.

“What is it?” I asked before I bit down on my lip. Of course, she wouldn’t know. “Sorry— I— Thank you,” I murmured, taking the box with trembling hands.

“Can I bring you something else?” she asked, and I remembered suddenly that I hadn’t eaten.

“Something for dinner, I guess,” I replied as I set the velvet box down on the marble vanity.

The woman’s expression was impassive. “What would you like?”

“I—” I hesitated. I didn’t even remember what I liked to eat anymore—nothing tasted good. I knew I had to eat, but I didn’t enjoy it. “Whatever is available,” I said finally. “I don’t really care.”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll return shortly.”

“Thank you—”

The moment the door closed behind her, I turned my focus to the green velvet box.

I didn’t want to open it.

It had only been a few days since my mother’s funeral.

A few days since Lucian had announced his intention to marry me.

I swallowed hard and laid my fingers on the top of the box before jerking them back as though I’d been burned.

Tears pricked my lashes, but I took a deep breath, held it, and blinked the traitorous tears away.

I let out my breath slowly as I opened the box. The hinges creaked softly—a minute sound that I barely heard—and my eyes widened as the soft lamplight illuminated the ring nestled amid folds of deep green velvet.

My jaw clenched at the sight of the ring. It was a striking piece of gothic artistry. Intricate swirling, vine-like patterns, resembling creeping shadows or curling smoke, had been engraved upon the blackened platinum band. At its center rested a large, obsidian-black gemstone—a rare black diamond. It could be nothing else. The gemstone seemed to shimmer with an inner light, and I recoiled just a little as I caught my reflection in the facets.

Surrounding the central stone were small, blood-red garnets arranged in a halo. Tiny runic symbols were subtly engraved inside the band, and I struggled to read them before realizing I was attempting to read Necromi writing.

The ring was both beautiful and foreboding—and I remembered seeing it on my mother’s finger on her wedding day. But I couldn’t remember if she had been wearing it when I’d found her body—

“Gods,” I whispered.

I grimaced as I realized what this meant: Lucian intended to move forward with his plans to marry me.

The realization struck like a punch to the gut.

Terrified, I closed the box and pushed it away.

Suddenly, I grew numb. Heat rushed to my face, and I tried to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

Lucian, Titus, Valen and Bastian, they all wanted me; they all claimed ownership over me like I was nothing more than a possession.

A soft knock at the door jolted me back to my room.

“Your dinner, Miss Velez,” said the servant, as she pushed open the door just enough to let in the aroma of roast chicken and vegetables waft into the room.

I tried to steady my breathing as she laid out my meal on a small table near the window.

She left without a word, and I sat at the vanity—trembling.

I knew I had to eat, and my stomach growled at the scent of the food.

But panic seized me as the reality of my situation came crashing down and threatened to smother me beneath its oppressive weight .

Light glinted off the black diamond at the center of the ring—winking at me as though it knew something I didn’t.

I reached out and slammed the lid of the velvet box down over the ring to hide it from view.

I couldn’t look at it.

My mother had worn that ring.

Whoever had killed her had ripped it from her finger—and now it had been presented to me.

As though I wouldn’t know where it had come from.

The promise of the food on the table wasn’t enticing anymore.

It was sickening.

Desperation clawed at my insides and drove me toward the only other option I had been offered: submitting myself to Titus and his brothers.

Though the thought filled me with revulsion, I couldn’t deny the allure of escape from Lucian—and this place.

As I stared at the dark velvet box, a decision formed in my mind.

I found Titus in the library, lounging in a leather armchair with a book in hand. A glass of whiskey sat on a small table near his chair and I licked my lips. My throat was tight, and a knot twisted in my stomach.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine as I entered the room, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

“You don’t belong in this wing of the house,” he said.

“I know,” I replied.

I had dressed carefully, but not modestly.

I had pulled my hair back, and the deep violet blouse I’d chosen had a deep, revealing neckline—almost too daring. But if Lucian had chosen it, perhaps his sons would appreciate it, too. The fitted skirt accentuated my waist and hips in ways I never could have imagined.

“Have you come to accept our offer?” he asked. His tone carried a dark note of amusement.

I swallowed hard and forced the words out of my parched throat. “Yes. I’ll do whatever you want—whatever any of you want. Just promise that you’ll protect me from Lucian.”

His grin widened, the predatory gleam in his eyes intensifying. “Oh, we will,” he said. He set the book aside and rose to his feet. “But know this: once you surrender yourself to us, there’s no going back.”

“I understand,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to myself.

“Say it again,” he demanded. He stepped closer until we were mere inches apart. “Promise me that you’ll submit to our every desire.”

The weight of his gaze threatened to crush me beneath its intensity. And yet, as much as I wanted to shrink away from him, some dark and twisted part of me yearned for what he offered.

What they offered.

Maybe Valen was right—he’d said I was just as flawed as my parents.

What if there was something broken inside me that I couldn’t escape?

With a shuddering breath, I repeated my promise. “I give myself to you and your brothers, submitting to your every desire.”

“Excellent,” Titus murmured, his fingers brushed against my cheek in a feather-light caress.

“And what about your promise?” I hissed. “Say it. ”

He took hold of my chin and forced me to look at him. “We will protect you from Lucian—”

“And?”

Titus’ smile was cruel. “And we’ll help you fly away from Withermarsh, little bird. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Titus leaned in and the scent of aged whiskey filled my senses. “Good,” he purred before stepping backwards once again. “First, let’s begin your initiation.”

I bit down hard on my tongue as he released his hold on me and sauntered across the room, stopping to retrieve something from a concealed drawer in the large mahogany desk set beside the towering bookshelves.

“Come here,” he ordered without glancing back.

I hesitated for a moment, but then followed his instructions and walked toward him with heavy steps. As I drew closer, I saw that an archaic piece of parchment lay upon the desk’s polished surface. Titus crossed his arms over his chest, and my heart lurched at the sight of a silver dagger in his hand. It gleamed in the softness of the lamplight and I froze in place.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“A blood promise requires a blood oath.” His voice echoed through the room as he placed one hand on the parchment. My eyes were fixed on the dagger and my heart beat strangely in my chest.

“I— I trust you,” I forced myself to say. “We don’t need to… sign anything. I don’t need—”

“But you do,” Titus interrupted, his voice cool and measured. “It’s not you we don’t trust, Avril. It’s Lucian. This will protect you.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “You agreed to give everything to us, didn’t you?”

I swallowed and felt like I was choking on my own fear.

And desperation .

“Yes, I did,” I replied.

“Good.” He motioned for me to come closer. “Give me your hand.”

Every instinct told me to run, but instead, I took a deep breath and stretched out my shaking hand toward him.

His icy fingers curled around mine—firm but not painful—and the dagger glinted ominously in his other hand. My heart pounded deafeningly in my ears as he brought the blade closer to my palm.

Just as the cold steel was about to pierce my skin, he let go of my hand and spun the dagger around before he offered it to me.

“You should do it,” he said simply.

My fingers closed around the hilt without command—almost in self-defense—and I stared at him incredulously.

Hadn’t he wanted to hurt me?

“Remember your promise,” he reminded me quietly as I stood there, frozen, with the blade still hovering over my open palm. “And remember ours.”

With a deep breath, I tentatively lowered the dagger down and made a small cut on the side of my palm. Blood dripped onto the parchment and bloomed into a dark stain that seemed to grow within seconds.

Suddenly dizzy with pain and fear, I let go of the dagger—it clattered heavily onto the dark mahogany desk—and I stared at the crimson stain as it spread across the ancient parchment.

Titus was beside me in an instant. He held my bleeding hand above the parchment, allowing more droplets of blood to splatter onto its surface. His touch was surprisingly gentle, considering the cruelty and menace I’d seen from him.

“There,” he said. He picked up a crystal vial from the desk and collected a few drops of my blood in it. His icy gaze met mine as he pocketed the vial. “Your promise is sealed in blood. And so is ours. ”

My hand throbbed with pain, but there was undeniable relief flooding my veins as well. I had made a pact—a blood pact—with Titus and his brothers.

Fear churned inside me, but it also created a strange sense of exhilaration—a tainted freedom that shook me to my core.

Titus turned my hand palm up and passed his other hand over it. The pale green smoke of his magic twined around his fingers before it wreathed my hand and I let out a choked gasp as a burning pain flared beneath his touch. I tried to pull away, but Titus held me firm.

“Patience,” he admonished.

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes as the pain intensified. But then, as quickly as it began, the pain ended, leaving only a mild throb in my hand where I’d cut myself.

“Rest now,” Titus ordered as released his hold on me. I turned my hand over and rubbed my hand over the spot where I had sliced my own flesh to seal this pact. It was smooth and perfect. As though the wound had never existed.

“Tomorrow,” he said, and his words held a promise that everything I knew would change.

What had I done?