Page 12

I tried to stay mad at Valen.

I really did.

The allure of following Titus and Bastian down their dark path was… hard to ignore.

But I couldn’t ignore the feeling—the itch in the back of my mind—that they were stalling.

Learning the deeper magic of the grimoire was dangerous, and I couldn’t do it all at once.

I was impatient.

Lucian had already announced the wedding, and with every day that slipped by I could feel his fingers digging deeper into my skin.

He hadn’t tried to touch me.

“Not yet.”

The grimoire’s hiss was impossible to escape, but the unexpected volume of its dark voice was—

“Are you okay?”

Valen.

Shit.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I replied through gritted teeth. “It’s just… cold.”

The motorcycle was awkward between my legs. Too large.

Gods… why was it so heavy?

How was I going to balance it?

How the fuck was I supposed to handle it once it… started…

How the fuck was I going to start it?

My hands trembled slightly on the handlebars and my heart beat strangely in my chest.

“Avril— if it’s too much—”

“It’s not,” I snapped. “Now… what do I do next?”

Valen’s chuckle was soft, not mocking, but my skin prickled with irritation at the sound.

“Turn the key, twist the throttle,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice.

I took a deep breath and shot him a glare.

His lips twisted, but his eyes stayed on me.

The key turned easily, and the bike roared to life beneath me with a shuddering vibration that made my teeth rattle. I clung to the handlebars like they were a lifeline.

“Good,” Valen said, now all seriousness as he stepped back. “Now—”

I sat back on the seat, still unsure of how it all felt, but the rumble of the bike tore through my body and drowned out the whispers in my mind.

Finally.

I lifted my foot off the ground with the intention of seeing if I could ease forward slowly and keep it balanced, but instead of a steady forward trajectory, the bike lurched forward, narrowly missing him—my fingers slipped, and the motorcycle bucked wildly. I let out a scream as the heavy machine twisted out from under me with a punishing jerk, and I hit the ground hard enough to force the air from my lungs.

For an awful moment, I lay there gasping as stars danced in front of my eyes. Dark clouds twisted in the sky over the estate and I pressed my hands down on the rough grass.

Then Valen’s face hovered above me, his expression torn between concern and amusement.

“That was… better?” he offered before he reached down, grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet before I could respond.

I glared at him and wiped at my scraped palms. “I’m doing it again.”

“Take a break,” he urged. “You’re pushing too—”

“I’m doing it again.” My voice was tight.

My body ached and the grimoire’s whispers surged in my mind—laughter.

It wanted me to fail.

Valen sighed, but stepped back without another word.

My muscles screamed as I wrestled the bike upright once more. This time, I managed to steady myself before starting it up again. The engine thrummed beneath me like an agitated beast and I tried to focus on anything but the strangely delicious ache that spread through me.

“Control it,” Valen called, this time with less humor, more edge. “Don’t let it control you.”

I gritted my teeth and pressed forward again, refusing to let the bike have the last word.

The darkness in my mind fell away as I flew forward, but my triumph was quickly dashed as I lost balance and crashed to the ground once more. This time, I stayed on the ground, panting and trembling. Any bravery I’d felt was starting to fracture.

“I can’t do it,” I muttered as the buzz of whispers in my mind swept through my thoughts.

I closed my eyes tight as footsteps thudded on the ground beside me.

“Yes, you can— Avril—”

The soft creak of denim and leather cut through the whispers as Valen crouched next to me.

He smelled like grease.

I didn’t open my eyes.

“Stop rushing,” he continued in a low voice. “You have time.”

“No. I don’t.”

He hesitated like he was about to argue, but then he grabbed hold of my jacket lapels and dragged me upright. I smacked his hands away and glared at him as I tried to get my balance.

Thick clouds filled the sky, and the air was heavy with rain. The bike looked like a stunned insect lying on its side in the grass. I didn’t want to get back on. I was furious with myself—and with him.

Valen opened his mouth to say something—but then the rumble of another motorcycle tore through the air.

Bastian.

The low black bike roared through the main gate and he didn’t seem to slow down at all as he turned his bike toward us.

Fear laced through me as Valen stepped in front of me.

“Hey—”

Bastian put on the brakes at the last possible moment and he turned the bike hard to come to a stop in front of us, showering Valen’s legs in a spray of gravel.

Valen didn’t flinch.

Bastian didn’t remove his helmet, but I was sure I could feel his eyes on me. “We need to go,” he said. The helmet muffled his voice, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable. “Lucian’s expecting us.”

Valen didn’t move. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Didn’t look like you were making much progress,” Bastian replied as he swung one long leg over the bike and kicked out the stand.

“I’ve got it under control.” Valen’s tone was clipped.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Bastian said, taking a step toward us. He reached up and pulled off his helmet, shaking out his blond hair. His smile was wicked as he looked at me. “Need some help?”

“I’ll manage,” I snapped. I turned on my heel and marched over to the fallen bike. My hands trembled as I gripped the handles and hauled it upright again.

Bastian let out a low whistle. “She’s got more guts than I thought.”

Anger sliced through me, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d wounded me even a little.

I turned the bike around and walked it back toward them.

Bastian dismissed me with a wave of his hand, his focus solely on Valen, who didn’t move.

The air throbbed with tension until Bastian shook his head and turned back to his bike. He kept talking as he swung himself back on and turned the key. “If you’re not coming with me, you can explain why to Lucian yourself.”

Valen looked over his shoulder at me and strode toward me. He grabbed the handlebars, pushed me aside, and swung his leg over the bike.

“Hey!”

He said nothing.

I stood there, feeling foolish and raw, as they sped off down the gravel path, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.

Pain crept into my muscles and my hands stung as I tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

More mysterious errands.

The motorcycles roared away through the tall gates and disappeared from view.

Fuck.

The sound echoed off the clouds and I looked down at my grass stained slacks and grimaced at the tears in the delicate fabric.

The things I would have traded away for some sweatpants or jeans… but my closet was still a nightmare of designer clothes and delicate fabrics.

Valen had offered to buy me something more appropriate—why had I refused?

No.

I knew why.

The servants who shifted through the house like ghosts… they’d find anything that didn’t belong in a second, and then Lucian would know.

I didn’t want him to know anything.

I didn’t want him to suspect.

The only reason Valen had agreed to let me touch the motorcycle today was because Lucian was away…

And now I was alone.

No.

Never alone.

The grimoire rose in my mind—a shadow more than a whisper.

The voices had been growing stronger.

More insistent.

My fingernails dug into my palms and I sucked in a sharp breath as pain radiated through my hands and arms.

A drop of rain struck my cheek, and I glared up at the clouds before I hurried back to the gravel path that led back toward the mansion.

I was safer indoors.

I could have laughed.

What a stupid thought.

I wasn’t safe anywhere.

A rumble overhead forced me to move faster, but my muscles ached and I bit down on my lip to keep from groaning as I rushed toward the house. The rain came down just as my foot hit the stone stairs and I flattened myself against the wall of the house as the fat drops pelted the ground and lightning flashed overhead.

I tried to push back the hopeless feeling that crept up my spine.

It didn’t matter if I’d crashed the bike a hundred times—if Lucian named the date of our wedding before I was able to control it; I would never have the chance to escape.

A gust of wind swept rain across the porch and I pushed open the heavy door, not caring as it slammed closed behind me.

The marble foyer was dark and silent, a hushed reminder of how empty the house was without them here. Even the servants seemed to have vanished into whatever spaces they haunted when Lucian was away. The air smelled faintly of incense, and it burned at my throat as I made my way up the wide staircase toward my room.

The grimoire pulsed through my mind.

It was relentless.

Tireless.

What did it want?

I was afraid to think about it—

Maybe I shouldn’t have let Valen leave.

I ran up the grand staircase and gritted my teeth against the pain until I reached my door.

A flick of my wrist unlocked the spell that held the door closed, and I almost fell into the room as it opened.

It closed behind me with a click that made me jump, but I peeled off my soaked jacket and dropped it in a heap near the doorway.

Shadows lurked in the corners like uninvited guests, but I wasn’t looking at them.

The Bloodstone Grimoire sat smugly on my vanity and its dark cover glistened with an almost eager malice. It knew my weakness; it fed on it.

I stared at it for a moment, and my fingers twitched as I battled the urge to touch it and let its voices fill the gaping silence.

Instead, I strode across the room, peeling my clothes off as I went. I dropped them onto the carpet, uncaring, and stood naked in the closet as I rummaged through the silks and linens until I found something that didn’t make me want to scream—a loose linen dress that didn’t belong with the other designer garments that had been purchased for me.

I pulled it over my head and walked back into the bedroom.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, feeling hollowed out by more than just fatigue.

The stones embedded in the grimoire’s cover gleamed in the low light and the house rumbled with the thunder that rolled overhead.

Light the candles.

Say the words.

Titus had promised that my freedom lay in power.

But that power took time to learn.

Time I didn’t have.

The rain drummed against the windows and I wrapped my arms around myself as I rocked on the edge of the bed.

Why can’t you look for yourself—

The grimoire’s dark voice rose in my mind.

Why couldn’t I?

I didn’t need a babysitter.

I pushed myself up from the bed and crossed the room and perched on the edge of the vanity chair. The cold, hard cover bit into my hands as I pressed my fingers against it and I chose to ignore the prickle of despair that threaded through me as I lifted one hand to gesture vaguely at a nearby candle to light it.

Dark wax had pooled and hardened on the smooth surface of the vanity. My mother would have scolded me for ruining a priceless antique—but I didn’t care.

She was dead.

And I didn’t give a shit about what the dead thought.

The grimoire pressed me forward and its whispers became light laughter as I pulled the blackened silver dagger from the book’s spine.

Words rose unbidden in my mind—Titus’s words—the spells he’d started to teach me.

I didn’t need anyone to hold my hand.

Especially not my stepbrothers.

All three of them could go straight to hell.

The candle flame flared briefly, then settled into a steady pulse that made the shadows dance around me like crazed specters.

I took a breath to steady my hand and pressed the blade against the side of my palm.

Blood flowed quickly.

A dark rivulet that dripped down over my wrist and fell onto the book’s ornate clasp.

Just as it always did, the lock clicked softly and fell open.

With blood-slicked fingers, I opened the book, and the pages turned with a sigh as dark whispers poured through my mind like smoke. I shuddered, but forced myself to keep going, flipping through page after page—but all the spells looked the same.

More.

I needed more.

The answer to my questions—my salvation—was buried beneath those repulsive pages.

The dagger in my right hand, already stained with my blood, seemed to shimmer with a malevolent light.

Without hesitation, as though I hadn’t made the move on my own, the edge sliced through my flesh; the kiss of the blade against my wrist was a moment of pain that sent a shockwave of exhilaration spiraling through me. Dark blood welled up and streamed down my wrist to drop over the pages.

Blood soaked the edges of the grimoire, and I wiped the blade against the pages as I stared down at the symbols etched into the rough surface.

“Come on,” I muttered.

My foot tapped on the hardwood floor. Impatient.

Why wasn’t it soaking in?

Why wasn’t it showing me anything new?

Thoughts clawed against my skull.

“More. More. More.”

The whispers had grown and changed.

How had I not noticed?

A clutter of voices had become one simple command.

“More.”

Desperation guided the dagger and my breath hissed through my teeth as I slashed at my arm.

My fingers were slick as I flexed my hand to make the blood flow.

The wounds would heal quickly—just like they always did.

My skin tingled, alive with pain and magic and fear, and the chill that spread from the book made me clench my jaw against it.

How much did it need?

How deep were the spells I needed buried?

My blood pooled on the ancient pages and it seemed to pulse with its own life before sinking into the parchment.

The blackened silver dagger gleamed in my hand, a hungry suggestion, but I dropped it to the ground. The clatter echoed in my ears, and then everything went quiet.

Just the rain on the windows.

Just my erratic breaths.

Dark spots danced at the edge of my vision, but I clenched my teeth and leaned forward.

“Come… on,” I hissed.

Magic pulsed at my fingertips as I pressed my bleeding hand against the pages.

Blood flowed in thick, warm rivulets and the world spun as an unfamiliar chill burrowed into my bones. I gasped, but forced my eyes to stay open.

The pages absorbed my blood eagerly.

Hungrily.

But no words appeared.

Frustration tightened my chest. “Why— Why won’t you—”

A dark smudge appeared in the center of the book, and I leaned closer.

“Finally.”

But as the darkness spread across the pages, my initial surge of victory faded as an unsettling energy swirled around me. Panic gripped me, a primal instinct that clawed at my throat, but I couldn’t move.

Black tendrils spawned from the smudge and flowed over the pages until it reached my arm. A low whimper escape my lips as the tendrils crawled up my skin—beautiful patterns like frost on a window—

Terrifying patterns etched in black on my pale flesh.

I tried to snatch my hand away, but the book held it fast, and a sharp, burning pain shot through my arm as blackness seeped into the cuts on my wrist and hand. Feeding off me.

“No—”

Terror froze the words to the roof of my mouth as the blackness swallowed my hand—was I imagining it?

Was it trying to pull my arm into the book?

I struggled briefly and tried to flex my hand.

This wasn’t happening.

It couldn’t be.

I was hallucinating—

I pushed forward with my magic, but nothing happened.

How—

The whispers in my mind grew louder, more frantic. My pulse raced with fear, and the deeper my panic burrowed into me, the tighter the darkness wound around my arm. I struggled wildly against it, pulling with more desperation than strength.

Let me go!

It wasn’t working—my blood had bound me to this horror, and I couldn’t get free.

Help!

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

My vision blurred and my body sagged as though pulled toward the book by some unseen force.

The blackness spread from the center of the grimoire, swallowing everything in its path until there was nothing left. Just darkness.

My vision blurred, and the room distorted and writhed.

Movement caught my eye, and I turned my head to beg for help— I’d expected to see a servant.

But it was Lucian who stood beside my bed.

His pale eyes swept over me and I recoiled as I realized he was naked beneath the deep midnight blue robe that was draped over his shoulders.

Pale skin. Moonlight hair.

“At last,” he said. “I have been kept waiting far too long—”

He walked toward me with measured steps and I tried to pull back.

Suddenly—I could.

My arm was free.

I let out a cry as I jumped up from the vanity. The chair toppled backwards onto the floor and a smile tugged at Lucian’s lips.

The grimoire was gone. The whispers in my mind were quiet.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Candles burned all around me and illuminated the room.

The scent of candle smoke and the heady richness of flowers filled my nose.

What was happening—

A gossamer robe embroidered with magnolia flowers was draped over my shoulders, and it barely covered my nakedness—

Frantically, I grabbed at the edges of the robe and tried to pull them over my breasts. Lucian’s eyes glittered hungrily in the candlelight as he stared at me.

“Now is not the time to be shy, Avril— But I do take some delight in seeing that there is still something of that virgin girl in you yet…”

I looked around frantically but found no escape.

Bile rose in my throat as he approached me.

Power radiated off him.

I could feel it on my skin.

Cold and inescapable.

“I—”

“You have said your vows,” Lucian interrupted with a wave of his long-fingered hand. “That is enough—”

His gaze pierced through me, an unyielding force that pinned me as surely as if he’d wrapped ropes around my limbs.

“I didn’t—” My voice trembled, a fragile thing against the weight of his presence.

“You did,” Lucian murmured, his steps slow and predatory. “But let us speak plainly… The moment you gave your blood to the grimoire, you pledged yourself to me.”

I stumbled back, but the room seemed to conspire with him, closing in on all sides. The plush expanse of the bed loomed behind me—a reminder of what he wanted, what he would take.

“No,” I gasped. “You can’t—”

He was upon me and his icy fingers brushed my cheek with a mocking tenderness. A corpse’s caress.

My skin crawled at his touch, and I turned my head with a shudder.

“So much spirit left,” he mused. “I wonder how long it will last?”

Desperation clawed at my insides. The whispers had abandoned me in my moment of need—just like everyone else. Valen, Bastian, Titus—

No one was coming to save me.

“I don’t belong to you,” I said through clenched teeth.

Lucian laughed softly. “Soon... You’ll understand.”

A chill swept over me as his power coiled around my limbs and dragged me toward the bed.

“Please—” The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

“Yes,” he said quietly, savoring each letter like a fine wine.

I flinched as he leaned closer, his breath icy against my ear. My stomach churned with fear and revulsion. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

I felt exposed and powerless as my body reacted to his touch and the caress of his magic as the red smoke of his power wound between my thighs and tightened around my ribs.

“Let me go,” I said.

The words were a whisper, but Lucian’s eyes gleamed.

“Never.”

I was falling backwards and my limbs were heavy weights as they hit the plush bedding. The candles flickered and his magic crawled over my skin with sharp, insistent strokes.

I twisted against it—against him—but there was no escaping the way his power molded me.

He stood over me, a dark god surveying his sacrifice.

There had to be a way to stop this—

Lucian’s fingers brushed the edges of my robe, and my stomach lurched as he toyed with the delicate material. The scent of him was overwhelming; the bitter tang of old blood was barely hidden by the cloying heaviness of rich amber and the ashy familiarity of candle smoke.

“Fight all you like,” he said. “It will make your eventual submission even sweeter.”

“I’ll never submit to you,” I choked out.

He laughed softly again, and a low whimper escaped me as his power surged over me in terrifying waves. “That spirit…” Another soft, cruel laugh. “You amuse me, my dear.”

The room spun wildly as I struggled against him, gasping for breath and sanity. Dimly, I heard myself cry out—a small, fractured sound that came from some part of me I thought I’d buried.

The robe slipped from my shoulders and pooled beneath me, a sea of flimsy silk. I grasped at it wildly, but Lucian’s hands pinned mine above my head. My pulse thundered through every inch of me as he held me in place with ease.

“Why are you doing this?” I gasped as I struggled against his hold.

“Because I can ,” Lucian whispered, and his lips brushed against my skin like a poisoned promise. “And because you are mine .”

Each word cut into me and left a jagged wound behind. My mind flailed for something—anything—to hold on to as despair closed around my throat like a noose.

Lucian’s power undulated over me in waves, relentless and consuming, and I found against the pleasure that was coaxed from my flesh.

No—

Desperation clawed at my insides as I tried to push it away, but it seeped into every part of me and filled the cracks with darkness.

I blinked rapidly against the tears that threatened to spill over, and then closed my eyes tightly as Lucian’s cold lips pressed against the side of my throat.

I wouldn’t let him see me cry—I wouldn’t—

Just as the pressure became unbearable, I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

I gasped, awake in a disorienting haze.

The cold marble tiles of the bathroom floor pressed against my cheek. Stark and white.

Dark blood pooled around me—a grotesque bloom of crimson that shimmered wickedly in the dim light. The warm stickiness coated my arms and soaked into my hair, and the scent of it filled my senses. My ragged breaths were loud in my ears as panic burned through me.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t—

A moan escaped my lips as I tried to push myself up.

But I was too weak…

Strong hands gripped me and peeled me from the floor.

A familiar presence who felt so wrong yet so right.

Titus’s concerned voice pierced through the veil of my panic and mixed with the disorientation that clung to my mind. “What have you done?” he murmured.