Page 29

Frustration was the wrong word.

Helpless.

Utterly helpless.

I’d worked so hard to scrape back some sense of myself—some sense of my own power—only to have it taken away in the blink of an eye.

“You gave it away,” the voice whispered.

I screamed into the void of my own mind as the nameless entity that had taken possession of my body smiled and nodded at well-wishers.

The possession was like drowning in molasses—I was aware of every sensation but unable to move my limbs against the thick, suffocating control that had claimed me. My voice was lost in the hollow chamber I was trapped in and echoed back only to myself while the entity wore my skin like an elegant glove. Their fingers flexed experimentally with each unfamiliar gesture, each calculated laugh—my fingers—my laugh… but not mine.

“Such a beautiful bride,” cooed a woman with a face like wrinkled parchment and eyes that gleamed with malice.

She reached for my hands with spindly fingers adorned with rings that looked like they’d been pried from corpses and gripped them tightly.

My head inclined demurely. “You’re too kind.” My lips formed the words, but it wasn’t me speaking.

“Lucian has chosen well this time,” the woman added with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

This time. The words sliced through me like a blade of ice.

My mother had stood in this same spot, wearing similar finery, accepting identical compliments from the same monsters.

And now she was dead.

Titus seemed convinced that I would be next.

“Do you really think I’d let him kill you?” the voice murmured in my ear.

“I don’t know—”

A breathy chuckle in response.

“Trust me…”

“I’m sure I’ll serve him well,” the entity replied with my voice in a sultry tone that made me recoil internally.

In my body, the entity moved through the reception with practiced ease as it navigated the dark opulence of the garden party. The shadows cast by the silk lanterns seemed to reach for me with grasping fingers.

“Patience,” the entity whispered into the cavern of my consciousness. “We’re nearly there.”

I fought against the bonds of magic that held me captive within my own flesh.

My struggle was pointless—like trying to claw through stone with bare fingers—but I couldn’t stop myself.

I couldn’t just let this happen to me. I had to fight, even if no one could see my resistance.

Guests parted before us like a dark sea and their faces blurred together in a parade of false smiles and hungry eyes. They looked at me as if I were already on borrowed time… approaching the altar to be sacrificed, ready to be consumed.

What Lucian did to his brides was no secret.

They’d seen it before.

“The power of Withermarsh suits you,” murmured a man with a beard like steel wool and teeth too white to be real. “You wear it well.”

“It was always meant to be mine,” the entity replied, using my voice to speak words that sent chills down my spine.

“What the fuck does that mean?” shouted into the void. My voice echoed back to me, but the entity didn’t answer.

Their motivations remained as shrouded as my own consciousness, and the sense of dread that had been building since the possession began swelled into something more acute.

Across the garden, Lucian stood surrounded by a circle of sycophants and I watched in disgust as their bodies curved toward him like flowers seeking the sun. His pale hair gleamed in the lantern light, and his sharp features were animated as he spoke with grand gestures. Even from a distance, I could see the triumphant gleam in his eyes.

He’d won. He’d claimed me. He believed I was his.

“Arrogant bastard,” the voice murmured in my ear.

At least we agreed on that.

My body moved with newfound purpose, and each step was measured and deliberate. The entity was used to my body now.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” I snarled.

“Hush—”

Suddenly, the entity’s focus sharpened and zeroed in on Lucian with predatory intensity.

Realization flooded through me and my bravado was instantly replaced with fear.

“No,” I pleaded into the void. “No, you can’t— Don’t take me to him. Don’t make me do this.”

“This is necessary, child,” the voice replied, softer now, almost consoling. “Trust me. It will all be over soon.”

Those words, meant to comfort, only intensified my terror.

What would be over soon?

My life?

My torment?

The world as I knew it?

The guests who noticed our approach nudged one another and a chill ran down my spine as their eyes caught the strange shine of the lantern light.

I felt like a sacrifice being led to the altar—which, in a way, I was.

This entire celebration had been nothing but an elaborate ritual, and I was about to be slaughtered.

Lucian’s chin rose as he noticed our approach, and his pale eyes locked onto mine.

The surrounding conversation died instantly, and his companions stepped back with practiced deference. He extended a hand toward me, fingers stained black with the taint of his magic, and my arm moved against my will to lay my hand upon his.

“Ah, my bride grows impatient,” he announced to his circle. His voice was dark and seductive, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Honey on a knife blade.

“Only for you,” the entity replied with my voice, and I screamed silently as my body pressed against Lucian’s, fitting itself to his form like a missing puzzle piece.

My hand—controlled by the entity—traced a path up Lucian’s chest and came to rest at the base of his throat.

The touch was intimate and possessive, and my mind recoiled even as my fingertips registered the coolness of his skin and the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath them.

“You were saying something about the eastern territories?” the entity asked, my voice a purr that I didn’t recognize.

Lucian’s expression shifted, and his brow creased slightly as he took hold of my hand and pressed his lips against my palm. “Was I? Well— Business can wait until tomorrow, my dear.”

The entity leaned in closer and my lips brushed against his ear. “I was hoping we might retire early,” it whispered. “The night grows cold, and I find myself craving... warmer accommodations.”

Bile rose in my raw throat and my stomach lurched at the suggestion, though the entity maintained perfect control of my physical reactions.

I knew what retiring early meant—what consummating this union would entail—and the horror of it threatened to overwhelm me.

“You’ve waited long enough to make me yours completely,” the entity continued and turned my hand gently in his grasp. “Why delay what we both desire?”

Lucian’s pupils dilated and hunger flashing across his features. His other hand slid around my waist and pulled me closer still. “Patience was never my virtue,” he replied, his breath hot against my skin.

“No virtue at all,” I choked out.

“Virtue is for Sages,” the entity said in my voice and the sycophants around burst out in appreciative laughter that echoed strangely over the garden.

The entity’s lips curved slowly into a smile that promised things I couldn’t bear to contemplate.

“Noooo,” my moan of horror was lost in the darkness that surrounded me. No one could hear me. Titus, Valen, and Bastian—they were blind to what had happened. They hated me.

Lucian’s answering smile was predatory. “You continue to surprise me, Avril.” His fingers tightened possessively on my waist. “I thought you might be more... reluctant.”

“I know what I want,” the entity replied. “And tonight, I want you.”

The lie slithered from my lips with convincing ease, and I felt myself pulled further into the recesses of my mind as I fought to regain control. But every movement I made was blocked, every attempt to call my power was muffled.

“You can’t do this!” I screamed.

As Lucian’s arm encircled me, preparing to lead me away from the reception, the entity’s assurance echoed in my mind once more: “Trust me.”

But how could I trust what I couldn’t understand?

How could I believe in salvation when I was being led willingly to my death?

Lucian’s hand at my waist felt like a brand as he turned to address our guests. His smile was a curved blade. My body remained pliant under the entity’s control, and it leaned into his touch as if craving it, while my mind shrank away in revulsion.

“My friends,” Lucian called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the garden. The music died away. Conversations halted, and all eyes turned to us. “Your presence has honored us on this most auspicious night. Your loyalty— Your commitment to our cause… It warms my heart.”

The guests watched with expressions that ranged from envy to thinly veiled hunger.

They knew what came next.

They had attended this same ceremony before, with my mother as the sacrifice.

But Lucian hadn’t treated me the same way—all the lewd and disrespectful behavior that had accompanied that first wedding had been absent.

He was almost restrained… but barely.

Valen had put something in his wine. Was it poison? Why wasn’t it working?

“Patience,” the voice murmured. “He’s very powerful… Watch the orb.”

The orb—

I’d almost forgotten about the unsettling red object that followed Lucian everywhere and bathed him eternally in its watchful glow. It pulsed with a rhythm that could only have been a heartbeat, and the mist that swirled around it like a cloak moved at a sedate pace.

“This evening has been… taxing,” Lucian continued. “And my bride is eager to seal this union—” His fingers tightened possessively at my waist as our guests applauded and laughed.

No. Not our guests.

His guests.

His prisoners.

“Please, continue to enjoy our hospitality. The celebration need not end simply because we retire.”

Another ripple of knowing laughter passed through the crowd, and I wanted to scream at them all.

“Thank you all,” the entity said with my voice as she offered a demure smile that I would never have worn. “Your blessings mean everything to us.”

Us.

As if Lucian and I were unified in purpose.

As if this union were anything but a prison sentence.

A death sentence.

The crowd parted before us as Lucian guided me toward the house.

I could feel the sharpness of their gazes on my back.

They would talk about this night for weeks, speculating on what occurred behind closed doors, wondering how long I would last before Lucian tired of me.

Just as he had tired of my mother.

The entity kept my back straight, my stride even, and my face arranged in what felt like an expression of eager sensuality.

But inside, I was shattering.

Each step toward Withermarsh was an agony, and I clawed uselessly at the walls of my mind, searching for any weakness in the possession that held me captive.

“I must say, I’m pleased to see you so… eager,” Lucian murmured as we ascended the stone steps to the house. “I expected more... resistance.”

The entity laughed with my throat. “Now, why would you be worried about that? Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought you did—”

His pale eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Perhaps not...”

We crossed the threshold into Withermarsh, and the scent of damp stone and ancient magic enveloped us. The great doors closed behind us with a sound like a tomb being sealed, and the music from the garden became muffled and distant, as if from another world entirely.

Withermarsh had always felt oppressive, but now it seemed actively malevolent, as if the very walls knew what Lucian intended, and approved of it wholeheartedly.

The entity moved my body forward with confidence, but I felt a subtle shift in its control—a momentary flicker, like a candle guttering in a draft. For the briefest instant, I felt my fingertips as my own, and sensation rushed back before the entity reasserted its dominion.

“Be still,” it whispered in my ear. “We are not safe yet.”

Yet?

What did the entity mean by “yet”?

Was there some plan I wasn’t privy to, some purpose beyond delivering me to Lucian’s bed?

We moved through the dimly lit corridors, and my senses seemed unnaturally heightened.

Every shadow took on substance, every creak of the ancient house became a warning.

I could hear whispers in the walls—whether real or imagined, I couldn’t tell—and the paintings that lined the hall appeared to watch our progress with avid interest.

Lucian’s hand never left my waist, and his touch was possessive and cold. His breathing had deepened, becoming more ragged as we approached his chambers, and I could sense the growing tension in his body—the predator preparing to feast.

The red orb that followed him everywhere pulsated with more agitation—an accelerated heartbeat?

What would happen if the orb were compromised? Would Lucian falter?

“Careful,” the entity murmured. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

In front of the doors to his suite, Lucian paused and turned to look at me.

The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, and I wanted to spit in his face.

But I wasn’t the one in control.

“You are even more beautiful in this light,” Lucian said, and he paused to brush a strand of hair from my face. “The darkness suits you, my dear.”

The entity leaned into his touch and turned my face to press a kiss against his palm. “As it suits you, my husband.”

Husband.

I gagged at the word.

It was acid on my tongue, poison in my veins.

This man who had married my mother, only to murder her and steal her power when she no longer served his purpose. This monster who had manipulated my entire life and positioned me for this very moment.

And now I was his.

Legally.

Magically.

Irrevocably bound by blood and contract.

Unless...

Another flicker in the entity’s control, stronger this time.

My right hand twitched and my fingers curled into a fist, before relaxing again.

Was the possession weakening?

Or was it allowing me glimpses of freedom to torment me further?

Ornate carvings covered the doors to Lucian’s suite; symbols writhed in the low light, patterns that pained the eyes to look at directly. The doorknobs were fashioned from some dark metal that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the light, and as Lucian reached for them, I swore I saw the metal shift beneath his touch as it responded to him like a living thing.

“These chambers have awaited you since the day you arrived at Withermarsh,” he said as he pushed the doors open to reveal a space beyond.

Why would he say that?

Why would he taunt me with that knowledge?

The entity hesitated at the threshold—the first sign of reluctance it had shown—and I felt a surge of fear so powerful it nearly broke through the possession’s hold.

“Something wrong?” Lucian asked. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp with suspicion.

“Not at all,” the entity replied smoothly. “I’m simply... savoring the moment.”

“You disgust me,” I hissed from the shadows.

Lucian’s smile returned, the momentary doubt erased. “Then let us create many more moments to savor.”

He swept me into his arms with surprising strength and held me against his chest as he carried me into his bedchamber. My head lolled against his shoulder, the entity maintaining the pretense of an adoring bride while I raged silently in the prison of my mind.

The doors swung shut behind us, closing with a finality that vibrated through my bones.

We were alone now, truly alone.

His chambers were as oppressive as the man himself—all dark wood and heavy velvet draperies, with a massive four-poster bed dominating the center of the room.

Writhing figures had been carved into the bedposts; figures that appeared to move at the edge of my vision. The rich damask coverlets gleamed like oil in the dim light and the air was thick with the scent of something herbal and bitter, an incense that made my thoughts fuzzy and complicated.

“Whatever you have planned, you better not let him fuck me!” I screamed.

The voice was silent as Lucian set me on my feet.

The entity faltered for just a moment, but then regained its balance.

Lucian’s hands lingered on my waist and he stared into my eyes with a hunger that made me want to run and hide—to make matters worse, I could sense the press of his magic.

Testing. Probing for weaknesses.

Or something else…

But beneath that pressure was the wavelike current of power that wasn’t mine, wasn’t Lucian’s, but flowed through me nonetheless. The entity’s power, readying itself for... what?

As Lucian leaned in to claim a kiss, I felt the entity tense and gather itself like a snake preparing to strike.

Lucian’s lips descended on mine, cold and demanding, and though the entity allowed my body to respond with convincing fervor, my consciousness recoiled in disgust. I felt each sensation through a veil—the pressure of his mouth, his hands as they slid down my sides, the subtle shifting of fabric as he began to unfasten my wedding gown—all of it muted by my desperate attempts to distance myself from what was happening.

The entity yielded my body to his advances with calculated submission, a performance designed to disarm and deceive.

“You surprise me,” Lucian murmured against my neck and his breath raised goosebumps on my skin. “I expected tears. Pleading. Perhaps even a futile attempt at escape...” His teeth grazed my collarbone, and I felt my body arch into the touch. “But this... eager compliance... it’s unexpected.”

“Did you want me to resist?” the entity asked with my voice. The words were playful and teasing in a way I would never have been able to manage.

Lucian pulled back slightly, pale eyes studying my face. “Perhaps. The chase can be... invigorating.”

“There will be time for games later,” the entity replied, my hands moving to unfasten the first button of his shirt. “Tonight, I want to experience the power I’ve married.”

A smile spread across Lucian’s face, cruel and pleased. “And so you shall.”

I screamed into the void of my mind as I thrashed against the bonds of possession. This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t bear it. Even through the muffling effect of the entity’s control, I could feel Lucian’s power pulsing against my skin, dark and hungry.

“Allow me to set the scene properly,” Lucian said as he stepped away from me. He moved around the chamber with practiced ease, lighting black candles that seemed to cast more shadows than light with a casual wave of his hand. Their flames burned an unnatural blue-green at the edges and a shiver rippled up my spine.

As he turned his back to light a particularly ornate candelabra across the room, I felt a sudden shift within me—the entity’s hold loosening, not in weakness but in deliberate retreat.

“Listen carefully,” a voice whispered in my mind, but it was different now—clearer, more defined, with a timbre that struck a chord of recognition deep within me. “We don’t have much time.”

I froze, startled by the familiarity of the voice—

I knew it from somewhere, from dreams perhaps, or distant memories...

“Who are you?” I choked out.

The entity hesitated, and in that pause, I felt a rush of emotion that wasn’t mine—regret, anger and a fiercely protective love.

“Dario,” the voice replied. “Your father.”

The world seemed to stop. My consciousness reeled, unable to process what I’d just heard.

Dario—

“No,” I whispered. “That’s impossible. My father is dead .”

“My body is dead,” the voice—Dario—confirmed. “After your mother betrayed my plans to overthrow Lucian, my consciousness and my magic were trapped within the pages of the grimoire.”

“You kidnapped me,” I snarled. “You tried to sacrifice me—”

“So that’s the lie they’ve been telling you…” the voice said sadly. “I was trying to protect you— To take you away from all of this death… the Necromi did not begin this way. Their vile flaws are a reflection of Lucian…”

“I don’t believe you,” I mumbled.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Avril. Waiting for this opportunity.”

Memories flashed through my mind—the strange connection I’d felt to the grimoire, the way it had called to me, the blood magic that had seemed so intuitive despite my lack of training.

“No— No! This was your plan all along?” I cried incredulously. “You’ve been waiting— manipulating me. To possess me?”

“To save you,” Dario corrected firmly. “And to finish what I started years ago. Lucian’s end. Our freedom.”

Lucian moved to another corner of the room, still focused on his elaborate preparation. Each candle he lit seemed to add to the oppressive weight of magic in the air.

“Listen to me,” Dario continued urgently. “The poison is working. Valen’s creation was more potent than even he realized. Lucian’s movements are already slowing. I can sense the fluctuations in his magic. Look at the orb! He’s trying to hide it, but I can feel it.”

I tried to process this information through my shock, but the voice was right… The orb’s throbbing light was erratic. “Valen poisoned him—” I murmured.

“Yes,” Dario confirmed. “You watched him pour it into Lucian’s wine. And we made sure he drank it. A clever boy, your stepbrother. The poison he used is designed to attack magical channels first, then physical functions. Lucian is weakened, but he doesn’t know how much yet... This may be our only chance.”

Our only chance.

The words echoed with grim finality.

The reality of the situation began to sink in.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

This was my father—my dead father—possessing my body to enact his revenge against the man who had destroyed both our lives.

“When the moment is right, I will relinquish control,” Dario explained. “You’ll need to strike quickly. The dagger from the grimoire is still within your gown—I made sure of it. You remember where?”

I did. The small blackened silver blade, hidden within the folds of dark lace at my waist, pressed against my hip. I could feel its weight now that he’d drawn my attention to it.

“He’ll kill me before I can reach it,” I protested.

“No,” Dario said with grim certainty. “He won’t. He’s weaker than he knows. And you are stronger than you believe. You carry my blood, Avril, and more power than you’ve yet realized.”

Lucian turned back toward us, his preparations complete.

The room now glowed with the eerie light of dozens of bewitched candles, creating an atmosphere that was more sinister than seductive.

“Are you ready, my bride?” he asked. His voice dropped to a predatory purr as he approached.

Panic streaked through me.

I wasn’t ready.

“Ready and waiting,” the entity—my father—replied with my voice.

“Remember,” Dario whispered to me alone. “When I release you, strike without hesitation. He will not expect it. He sees you as weak and compliant. Use that against him.”

A terrible clarity settled over me. This was it—the culmination of everything that had happened since my mother’s death. Perhaps even before. My father’s spirit had guided me to this moment and manipulated events to create this opportunity.

I should have been angry, betrayed—and part of me was.

But a larger part recognized the truth in his words.

“What will you do for your freedom?” the voice murmured.

“Anything,” I shot back.

“Good girl… it may come to that.”