Page 56 of Her Creation

“You have no name,” she answered as she reached out and grabbed one of his wrists. The moment her fingers touched his skin, she wished she didn’t have to let go.

“But you do,” he challenged gently. Despite his proclaimed devotion, there was a devilish look in his eyes.

She hurried to lock the cuff on his wrist and quickly moved to grab the other. He held it so close to his body that she was forced to step close to turn it. She felt the warmth of his skin, so different from when she held his same arm before tonight.

“Give me your ankle, please,” she said, doing her best not to be a trembling, shaking mess. He had no idea how much his pulse flickering beneath her fingertips affected her. This was all she had wanted for so long.

“Give me your name,” he returned.

She refused to utter a single syllable, her knees cracking the only sound as she crouched to grab ahold of his ankle.

“What if I were to escape?” he whispered…and it almost sounded like a threat.

Her eyes snapped to meet his.

“Would you call for me then?” he asked with a quirk of his handsome mouth.

Victoria stumbled back, clutching her sheet.

There was restraint in his stillness.

She said nothing but could not bring herself to take her eyes from the masterpiece she had created. Despite the situation, she felt the warmth of pride at this…this thing that had been beaten and destroyed in the most horrific of ways. This thing that now held her father’s heart.

“I won’t leave if you wish me to stay.”

Unsure what she was feeling, let alone what to say, she turned to leave. She felt the heavy weight of his gaze as she climbed the stairs. She had the unmistakable sense that he could have easily stopped her had he really wanted. Her cold hands struggled to open the door, but once she got on the other side, she locked it securely and held the skeleton key tightly as she slid down to the floor and cried until her soft pants lulled her to sleep with her back pressed against the cold iron door.

Later in the night, she swore she felt the soft warmth of a hand release from her own as she rolled away from the laboratory door and the gap beneath it, but when she looked under the door, there was only darkness.

Chapter 16

March, 1803 Log entry

Recounting events 1773–1795 Location: Unknown

Victoria! What happened? Are you all right? There is blood everywhere!”

Victoria’s eyes had only opened a moment earlier, swollen and stinging as the raw air touched them. The sound of the doors closing and the hen-like chatter of Greta and Rosamond had just roused her from her position at the base of the door to the laboratory.

The floors, banister, and walls were streaked with blood she hadn’t seen in the night’s dark.

“Where is Alphonse? Is he okay?” Rosamond pressed.

Victoria’s chest ached painfully, stronger than the sharp, jagged pangs that tore at her stomach. Greta pulled her to stand, the older woman’s eyes darting over Victoria’s bloodstained bare body in panic.

“Where is Alphonse? Are you hurt?” Greta yanked Victoria’s arm impatiently.

She couldn’t bring herself to admit he was gone. And so…she didn’t. “Yes, he’s fine,” Victoria answered. “He’s in the laboratory.”

A clank suddenly sounded from the basement, corroborating Victoria’s lie.

“He’s getting bad, Victoria. We know he’s sick; we can see it. If there was some kind of accident—”

“He’s letting you go,” Victoria said flatly, cutting Greta off.

“What?” Rosamond said as she came to stand next to a shocked Greta.

Victoria turned on her. “You as well. Everyone but the stable master must leave.”