Page 6 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her, the infuriatingly innocent girl who dared to sit at my family’s table.

She didn’t belong here.

The daughter of a traitor. She shouldn’t have survived her birth—and now I was expected to act as though she was a part of the family?

Fuck that.

Why should I be the one to extend a hand in welcome when she was the enemy?

What did my father expect us to do? There had to be some reason for this union. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. He’d made that clear enough. He’d also made it clear that the decision wasn’t to be argued against. If he expected me to accept everything silently, he was going to be disappointed.

As my father and Julia took their seats, silence descended upon the dining room like an oppressive fog.

“Did you have a pleasant day, Avril?” my father inquired.

He was feigning interest in her trivial existence .

I clenched my jaw, barely able to contain my irritation at his blatant patronization.

Silent servants entered the room and set down silver dishes laden with extravagant food. My brothers helped themselves with gusto and loaded their plates without hesitation. I didn’t move.

“Y-yes, thank you,” she stammered. Her voice was barely audible above the clink of silverware against china. Her cheeks were flushed and her hazel eyes darted between me and my brothers—she was scared. I could feel weakness radiating off her.

I took a perverse pleasure in knowing that we had unsettled her.

It was the least she deserved for the chaos her father had wrought upon my family.

“Good,” Lucian replied, his tone sickeningly sweet. “You must learn to enjoy your time here at Withermarsh, child. After all, you’ll be a Romano soon enough.”

The bitter tang of bile rose in my throat at his words, but I swallowed it down, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my disgust.

“A Romano?” I finally spoke, my voice dripping with venom. “Do you expect us to call her sister?”

My brothers exchanged wary glances, sensing the undercurrent of malice that coursed through my words, and even Avril seemed to shrink back in her seat.

“Titus,” my father warned. His gaze narrowed and the subtle crackle of his power shivered over my skin as he turned his pale eyes in my direction.

I stared back at him, daring him to do something.

“Forgive me, Father,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the disdain out of my voice. “Perhaps I’m simply not used to sharing our table with... outsiders.” I glanced pointedly at Avril and reveled in the way she flinched .

“Enough,” my father commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

A flicker of candlelight danced across Avril’s face as she picked at her food, and the rippling shadows in the room seemed to accentuate her innocence. She was untouched by darker magic, and from the weak sigil she had tried to cast to protect herself, I doubted she knew much about anything. My fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler in my hand as anger and something that felt like a sick fascination tumbled in my chest as I watched her.

I felt my brothers’ eyes on me, their attention straying from their bountiful plates to the simmering tension that hung between me and our guest. The glances they exchanged were cautious, uncertain. They also appeared to be confused and angry about the traitor’s daughter at our table, but neither of them had the courage to express their dissatisfaction.

If I said anything else, I would be the fool.

They wouldn’t support me. Not yet.

Cowards.

They were my brothers, but right now they were loyal to power… not blood.

Silently, I cursed them for their inaction and their willingness to sit idle as our father tacitly welcomed an enemy into our home.

In the silence that followed, I let my gaze wander over the room. Avril was unprepared for this world, a realm that thrived on wicked desires and corrupt influence.

How long could she survive untouched? How long would it take for her innocence to dissolve and for the darkness to seep in and taint her—

A smile curved over my lips.

The thought of corrupting her was a heady one. She had no one to protect her—my father didn’t care about her; how could he ?

He seemed consumed by Avril’s mother.

It was easy to see why—

Julia was beautiful, but in a cold and untouchable way. Raven hair spilled down her back like an inky waterfall of night. Her black gown, cut low, exposed her cleavage and a delicate black tattoo of undulating leaves that curved around the edges of her breasts and came up to meet on her sternum. She was languid and purposeful in her movements, as though she expected every male eye in the room to follow her and imagine what she might look like naked and writhing on a bed.

Avril looked nothing like her.

Except her eyes.

But Julia’s eyes were cruel and shimmered with darkness. She had touched darker magic, and if she was with my father, then there was a good chance that she had enjoyed it.

Avril’s eyes had the same pale hazelnut color tinged with mossy green, but they still held an innocence that was startlingly pure.

It was tantalizing… and irritatingly endearing.

Maybe I would be the one to taint her—to extinguish that light from her eyes.

The thought was too tempting to ignore.

Avril must have felt my intense stare because she suddenly locked eyes with me and her expression shifted to one of surprise. For a moment, I saw something else flicker in those crystal-clear depths—fear. It was so raw and genuine; it clutched me with a primal satisfaction.

She was fragile.

Breakable.

Suddenly, I wondered what it would be like to watch those eyes darken while I witnessed the ruin of her innocence at my hands. Would she fight? Or would she submit easily? Eagerly…

She looked away, suddenly frantic to break our eye contact, but the damage had been done; the way her breath hitched all too loud in the ensuing silence was music to my ears.

Her slender body shivered beneath the expensive green silk dress she wore. It was beautiful but didn’t suit her at all—the undulating pattern of snake scales that rippled up her torso wouldn’t have looked out of place on a woman like Julia—but on Avril? Ridiculous.

She couldn’t even pretend to be poisonous.

“Why did you call us here, Father?” Bastian asked in a bored tone.

Valen grumbled something affirmative, but he didn’t look up from his plate.

Lucian shifted in his seat and stretched out his arm to lay his long-fingered hand on Julia’s shoulder.

She looked up at him adoringly, and my skin crawled as her darkly painted lips curved into a sensual smile.

“The wedding is only a few days away,” Lucian said. “This evening is a chance for you to get acquainted with Julia and her daughter,” he said. “Your mother and sister will need time to become acquainted with this house—this estate—and everything it offers.”

Mother.

Sister.

Did he really expect us to call her—

Valen leaned back in his chair and raised his wine goblet to his lips to drain it.

Bastian dropped his fork onto his plate and the crash echoed in the room.

“Brothers,” I declared, interrupting Bastian and Valen from whatever they might have said—there was nothing to say. No argument to be made. “Let’s raise our glasses to toast our father’s happiness. To the arrival of our new mother—and our dear sister. ”

The tone of my voice was neither welcoming nor kind, and my father’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing as he raised his goblet of dark wine. I caught a flicker of concern on Avril’s face from the corner of my eye.

There was a hush before Valen refilled his goblet. He spilled the deep red liquid onto the purity of the damask tablecloth in his haste, but made no move to clean it up. Satisfied, he and Bastian raised their glasses, but their eyes clouded with unease. They hesitated for a split second before finally joining me. The bitterness of the word ‘sister’ was equally strong on their tongues as it was on mine.

“To Julia and Avril,” I exclaimed as I raised my glass high as my brother’s echoed my words and the liquid in my goblet glinted darkly in the flickering light.

I couldn’t keep the pleasure off my face as I watched Avril hesitate before she lifted her own goblet; her hands trembled visibly as she captured my gaze with those wide hazel eyes again as she murmured her thanks.

Julia’s smile was smooth, but her eyes were cold, and didn’t leave me as she took a drink of her wine.

I took a sip and savored the bitterness of it.

“That’s enough, Titus,” my father growled.

I could see the cogs turning in his mind as he calculated the potential fallout from my actions and weighed the benefits of punishing me now or later.

“You cannot blame me, Father,” I replied, feigning submission, even as I reveled in the brief moment of rebellion. “I am simply thrilled to see you so happy. You have been alone for far too long.”

He hadn’t, of course.

But he had never stooped to marrying one of the whores he brought into the house.

Why was this one different ?

She looked the same as the others, behaved the same, soaked up his wealth and power with the same lustful zeal… But marriage?

Why?

“Titus.” Lucian’s voice held a baritone note of warning that reverberated in the room and crashed against the dark mahogany of the walls.

I shrugged a little, an implicit dare.

His pale gaze was hard, but it flickered, just once, to Julia.

Her eyes were still on me, as cold and depthless as a forest pool under moonlight.

She was silent, but a demure hand rested on his.

The hand with the ring.

My mother’s ring.

My hands tightened into fists under the table.

A ripple of tension passed through the room like an icy wind, and Avril shivered visibly.

In the heavy silence that followed, I let my gaze fall on her involuntarily.

Her delicate hand reached out for her goblet and I reached out with my magic—just a little push—and her hand lurched forward and knocked against the goblet, accidentally sending its crystalline form toppling over onto the tablecloth. Dark wine stained the pristine damask with ruby-red rivulets.

Her small gasp broke the silence, and she fumbled to fix her error as embarrassment flushed her cheeks crimson under my gaze. As she busied herself mopping up the wine with her napkin, Julia leaned toward her in what seemed to be an attempt at motherly comfort.

“Leave it,” she snapped and then lifted a hand to gesture at a servant who rushed over to clean up the mess and replaced the toppled goblet with another one .

Avril’s eyes were wide, and she looked too terrified to touch the crystal.

I couldn’t help but find some twisted amusement in her discomfort; it stirred a dark hunger within me that I hadn’t felt in quite some time. As we resumed our meal, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

“Is the food not to your liking, dear sister?” I asked, my tone dripping with mock concern. “I’m sure our father spared no expense in ensuring your comfort.”

“Th-thank you, Titus,” she stammered, forcing a weak smile onto her trembling lips as she looked at Lucian. “It’s... it’s wonderful.”

“Please, eat up,” I encouraged her. “After all, we wouldn’t want you wasting away now, would we?”

“Of course.” She took a small bite of her food, and it was obvious that she was trying to maintain her composure under my relentless gaze. I licked my lips as I saw her pulse—thudding at a furious pace at the base of her throat.

Bastian chuckled and watched her with a hungry gaze as she wrapped shaking fingers around her new goblet.

“Careful,” he murmured in a sing-song voice.

Avril’s eyes flicked over to him, startled. Bastian’s eyes held a ferocious gleam that made her shudder and look away. Valen smirked, as if the entire dinner had turned into some humorous spectacle. Regardless of their blatant mockery, Avril picked up her fork again and ate with as much grace as she was able to muster under the circumstances.

The rest of the meal was torturous in its deliberate pace. The silence was punctuated by the delicate clinking of silverware against china and the subtle rustle of silk as my father’s next conquest asserted her presence. Each shifting glance and each hollow laugh reverberated in the room like a thunderclap.

Now and then, Julia’s gaze would drift to her daughter. My father and my brothers ignored it with their usual apathy, but every time Julia’s eyes settled on Avril, the girl flinched as if she’d been slapped.

Valen’s preoccupation with his own thoughts prevented him from paying much attention to our newest family member.

Bastian, however, seemed to take as perverse a pleasure in her discomfort as I did.

Avril barely touched her food, nervously picking at it as if she feared it was poisoned. When the dinner was over, her plate mostly remained full—while ours were littered with broken bones of small birds and stray fragments of herbs from gourmet dishes.

Julia noticed too. With a flicker of irritation crossing her carefully painted face, she addressed her daughter. “Avril,” she began in a tone that implied both sympathy and disgust. “Is something wrong? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“I— I’m just not hungry,” Avril replied softly, avoiding Julia’s gaze and settling it instead on Lucian. She was searching, perhaps, for some form of reassurance. I didn’t know how my father would react, but Lucian’s indulgent smile was a surprise.

“This is still a strange place to you, my dear,” he said. “You will get… used to it.”

Was he comforting her? This traitor’s daughter?

Avril’s mouth formed a small smile, attempting to radiate gratitude toward her new father, yet the fear in her eyes belied her true feelings. She looked as if she wanted to ask him why he allowed his sons to harass her, but she bit her tongue at the last moment. Although I had no love for my father, I had to admit that he was a master manipulator.

“Thank you… F— Father,” she murmured in reply and then lowered her gaze.

Julia’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she held out her goblet to be refilled. A servant rushed toward the table to do her bidding, and I leaned back in my chair to watch her .

The woman’s expression hardened when she noticed me observing her, but another sensual smile quickly replaced it as she leaned against my father and ran her sharply manicured nails through his hair.

The sight made my stomach churn with unspoken resentment. This woman, this traitor’s whore, who had wormed her way into my father’s bed and now sat in the seat that rightfully belonged to my mother.

But my mother was dead.

Lucian unconsciously leaned into Julia’s touch, a low hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest that irked me more than it should. The thought of their grotesque pairing left a rancid taste in my mouth, one that no amount of wine could wash away.

Annoyed by the display, I turned my attention to Avril, who had been watching our father and Julia with a horrified fascination. She glanced down at her untouched plate when she realized I was staring at her. Her rosy lips were pressed into a tight line, and she swallowed whatever words she wished to say but couldn’t seem to muster.

My father grabbed hold of Julia’s hand and drew her palm to his lips to press a heated kiss against it.

Her smile was smooth, but her eyes were on me—and each of my brothers.

She wanted us to know how much control she held over our father.

I saw Avril flinch from the corner of my eye. I leaned back in my chair and allowed myself to smile.

She disliked this just as much as we did.

She looked so small against the dining room’s towering ceiling and intricate wall designs.

A little bird.

And there it was again—a strange pull toward her, a dark curiosity stained with revulsion; a macabre fascination that made me want to reach out and snuff out whatever sliver of light remained in those pale hazel eyes.

From beside me, Bastian chuckled, a low sound that seemed to reverberate through the room.

“Why so quiet, Avril?” Bastian casually asked, his voice shattering the silence like shards of glass on the marble floor.

“I’m just... exhausted,” she stuttered out, looking like she would rather be anywhere but on that dining table under the weight of our scrutinizing gazes.

Without warning, Lucian slammed his fist down onto the table.

“Enough of this!” Lucian snapped. The impact sent tremors through the heavy oak and caused the candles to flicker and nearly extinguish. I met his icy glare with an insolent smile and relished the fury smoldering behind his pale eyes.

“Your little games have gone on long enough,” he growled as he looked at each of us. “You and your brothers will treat Avril with the respect that her position demands. She is your sister .”

“Of course, Father,” I replied, my voice dripping with false sincerity.

I pushed back from the table and rose to my feet, motioning for my brothers to follow.

We filed out of the dining room in a synchronized display of defiance, and our footsteps echoed through the dark, oppressive halls of Withermarsh.

As we retreated, I cast one last glance over my shoulder, catching Avril’s gaze as confusion and hurt flickered across her face. The sight sent a thrill of satisfaction coursing through me. It hadn’t been hard—but in a matter of hours; we had managed to unsettle her fragile world.

And that knowledge alone was worth whatever punishment awaited us.