Page 41 of Bloodgrove

“Satisfied?” she asked coolly.

“Hmm…” The older woman took another slow sip of tea. “I wish to see for myself.” Another sip, and the doctor stepped away.

Elodie waited patiently, her legs spread, her sex open and exposed to the brutality of the world.

With some effort, the old duchess rose, limped to the bed, and bent over Elodie. For a moment, her body blocked Will’s view, but he heard Elodie gasp. An eternity later, Her Grace straightened and returned to her chair.

“Mr. Frank. Your turn. Attest to our duchess’s virginity.” Malice dripped from the older woman’s words as she deliberately prolonged Elodie’s suffering. She wanted to see when Elodie would break, when she would close her legs, when the cool mask would crack and reveal the small, vulnerable girl beneath it.

But Elodie remained strong.

Will was beside her before he had time to think. He stepped between the duchess and Elodie, sought her gaze, and allowed his face to show all the compassion and pain she denied herself. She merely nodded.

Will lowered his eyes to the dusky pink of her sex and the white skin of her thighs. Had it not been for the terrible metal holding her open, he might have forgotten the circumstances for a moment. Instead, he only nodded, uncertain what he was supposed to be looking for.

“I attest to it,” he said, beckoning the doctor over.

A short while later, Elodie closed her legs, folded her skirts over them, and smiled at the duchess. “The doctor has already confirmed my health and fertility, the psychiatrist my soundness of mind, and the notary my right of inheritance. Does Your Grace require anything else?”

The older woman shook her head.

Elodie had won.

Chapter 23

Will slept restlessly.

“My beloved,” the darkness whispered. “Oh, my beautiful one. Wake up.”

But Will sank deeper into his pillow, his bed a black sea of living shadows. The white silk curtains billowed in the wind, and waves rippled across the room, licking at the driftwood bedposts. Creatures moved through the shallows, fins cutting through the water. Moonlight glittered on the ocean that covered his room.

“Mother of Pearl, salt of my sea. Wake up.” The dream murmured into his ear, and Will arched into the touch. Water brushed his legs, licking coldly across his skin. But it was not water. It was thousands of black eels, winding around one another, surging and swelling.

“Wake up!”

Will’s eyes flew open.

His nightshirt was soaked with sweat. The window stood open, banging in the wind. Far away, he heard the howling of vampires.

Exhausted, Will rubbed his eyes and tried to banish the sensation of scales against his legs. He was about to collapse into the pillows again, hoping to find a few more hours of sleep, when gooseflesh crept across his arms. Something made him stop, and his weariness fell away.

He stared into the emptiness of the room, dark and deserted. The fire in the hearth had gone out, a final ribbon of smoke curling into the chimney. But something older than reason, something that had warned his ancestors of a predator watching from the undergrowth, would not allow him to trust the quiet.

The shadows were dark—too dark. Black as a moonless night when clouds devoured the stars. Black as the endless reaches of space. So dark, and yet so alive. They moved, breathed, and pulsed at the edge of his vision, always just beyond his gaze.

Will reached for the candelabra, and all five candles ignited. Magic crackled through his veins, and he felt the Albatross’s salty breath against the back of his neck. But in this moment between dream and night, he did not question it.

His bare feet sank into the carpet, his heart hammered in his chest, and cold sweat gathered along his back. Everything inside him screamed to run.

Elodie. He had to warn her. Something was wrong.

The door creaked treacherously, the sound echoing through the sleeping house. The corridor beyond was broad and dark, a black mouth opening onto infinity, devouring every trace of light. The shadows pressed closer as though they meant to smother the candlelight and reclaim every inch of their realm.

After more than a month in the Ormonde house, Will knew its layout. He had studied its supports and analyzed its walls, yet he still did not know where Elodie’s bedroom was. The prickling at the back of his neck drove him onward. He imagined her lying beneath white sheets, wrapped in innocent sleep, unaware of the danger stalking through the house. Because he was certain Albatross had woken him with a warning.

His bare feet moved softly over the stone tiles. Cold ate through his skin, and the phantom of his missing toe ached. Every sound was unbearably loud. The drop of wax striking the floor. A loose shutter beating somewhere against the facade. Floorboards creaking where no one moved. Will stared at the place for a long time, waiting for the shadows to take shape.

He swallowed. His apartment in the Capitol felt impossibly far away—the charming kitchen and sitting room, the little bedchamber, everything visible from the threshold, always filled with the noise from the street, clattering pipes, and footsteps from the apartment above.