“I didn’t think he was being serious.”
“You thought he was joking?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know. Why is he doing this?” I’m sure asking her was pointless, but I was desperate. No one married under these conditions, not this fast, and certainly not a girl like me.
"What Julian wants, Julian always gets," Bailey mumbled.
"How do you know so much about him?"
"I've been around for a while.”
Maybe that should have made me feel bad for her. After all, who knows what had happened to this girl in the time she was here, or how she wound up at Dahlia to begin with, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Look,” she sighed. “Just let me help you get ready, and then you can go to Julian.”
Julian? I crushed the wedding gown between my fists. I didn’t want to go to Julian. I wanted to get my sister and go home.
I knew that wasn’t an option. So, I took a deep breath and nodded curtly. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
She shook her head, appearing almost sympathetic for once. “No, no you don’t.”
It didn't matter how many times I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t recognize the girl was staring back at me. The lace-y gown was a perfect fit, hugging the subtle curves I did have and swell of my breasts.
Bailey had blended something on my neck to hide the ligature marks, doing the same for anywhere else a bruise or scar was layered.
"You look gorgeous,” she stated, catching me off guard with how honest she sounded.
I shrugged it off. It wasn’t as if this was a joyous occasion. Nothing about it was okay, or normal, in any sense of the word. I was wearing a beautiful dress, dolled up more than I'd ever been in my life, being forced to marry a man whose madness had no limits.
There were so many things wrong with all of this. My head was on the verge of exploding.
A knock on the door pulled my attention away from the mirror. I glanced over my shoulder just as a familiar brunette walked in.
I homed in on her visible dragonfly tattoo, dragging my gaze up to her face. "Kelly?" I whirled around with my mouth agape.
"Ugh, I hate that name. Call me Belle." She gave me a smile made of ice.
"What are you doing? He said she wasn't ready!" Bailey snapped.
"He said a lot of things." Belle waved her off and settled the full weight of her scrutiny on me. "I always thought you were prettier than your sister was. And you're saner too, which says a lot.”
Her words rang untrue. Penny wasn’t insane, not the Penny I knew. Then again, what did I know about anything?
Kelly—Belle—whatever the fuck her name was had befriended me within my first month of moving to town. There’d never been any indication she knew the same Andreous she always lusted over. If she wasn’t who she said she was, and neither was Julian, then maybe my sister wasn’t either.
“What the hell is happening?” I wondered aloud.
"Julian,” Belle replied flippantly.
I shook my head and strode forward, shoving past them. They trailed after me, but neither attempted to block my path.
The door leading out into the hall had been left wide open, so I went right through that one too, pausing for a second once I stepped out.
I’d never been past the foyer of the Chateau. This was all alien to me. I didn’t care to explore right then, though. I needed to find the man I wanted to avoid.
It seemed the simplest way to do that was follow the voices coming from somewhere below. I ignored everything around me as I rushed down the stairs. The dimmed lights, the smell of warm food permeating the air, and the half-naked redhead playing the piano.
My feet carried me straight to the backyard. A bonfire was lit; a few men stood around, jovially conversing in tuxedos, and an even number of women in flashy gowns were relaxed in foldaway chairs.
How did he do this so fast?
"Morgana, slow down," Bailey huffed, reaching out and grabbing my hand.
"Tell me what the hell is going on," I snapped at her, no longer giving a damn about her odd disposition. She rolled her lips together and gave me a timid look.
"Screw this." Spinning on my heel, I marched across the backyard, barefoot, pissed off, and certain I'd finally lost my mind.
Julian was talking to the blonde from the gala, the one I thought he’d said was dead. Their heads were leaned in much too close, and they were speaking too low. Without hesitation or second guessing, I marched right up to him.
"Morgana." His eyes drifted up and down my body before meeting mine. A sardonic grin on his face.
"Tell me what the hell is going on." People turned their heads to watch our interaction, and for once, I didn't care about the attention.
"We're getting married." His tone was teasing.
"Stop fucking with me!" I yelled at him, causing his smile to fall away.
“Excuse us,” he directed to the blonde before taking hold of my arm and leading me away from his guest. When we were out of hearing he palmed the back of my head in what would appear to be an affectionate gesture from afar and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
"You have less than one minute to get your shit together. I don't need to remind you what's at stake. All I need is for you to do is look pretty and do as you're told. Do you get that, Morgana? Because so far, I've given you more chances than I would my own mother." His voice may have been quiet, but his anger was loud. I nodded, afraid if I pushed him too far, he would snap again.
"Good, now let's get this over with. You look gorgeous in that dress, but I'd rather see you without it." All dimpled smiles once more, he took my hand and led me back towards the bonfire.
Chapter Eighteen
She looked divine—my perfect, twisted angel. I could see the cracks slowly widening in her armor. Yet, she refused to completely shatter. Her ability to remain stable throughly impressed me. It made me want to fuck her mind much harder than her body.
Kidnapped to be partially reunited with the sister she thought was missing. Locked in the dark, forced to watch one of Dahlia’s exclusive shows. Finding out Belle was my pawn as Kelly.
To top all of that off, our wedding I was positive she didn't want. None of it made her head spin off her shoulders. She was still the same Morgana, utterly perfect for me.
The Chateau would have its very first Mistress after fifteen years. I wasn't worried about her getting away. Even if she did, it wouldn't be hard to prove that my wife was unstable. I'd just drag her ass back and show her why she needed me.
There was heavy melancholy in her gorgeous eyes. Her lovely pink lips were set in a firm line. I searched her face for hatred and found none. Of course, there wouldn't be any.
She could never hate me. We were too much alike. The only difference between us was that I didn't feel the need to hide in a shell.
My mother sat beaming at us from the front row of chairs; my father had a similar, not as noticeable expression on his face. Nothing mattered right now except the sweet woman in front of me.
When our officiant gave the cue, I slid the ring onto her finger.
It was an heirloom from my great-grandmother. My own ring was simple: black, plain, and already on my hand.
She was so calm. I expected tears, or at the very least, a tantrum. Her eyes studied me, trying to figure me out. She never would, not unless I wanted her to.
When it was time to kiss, she still didn't fight me. Her lips parted against mine with ease, her soft hands cupped my face, and kissed me back. She tasted like bittersweet heaven.
The few people around us clapped
I pulled away from her and saw the first scornful little gleam in her eyes. It did nothing to make her look like any less the queen I thought she was. It excited me on a level she wouldn’t understand. I knew she’d fight me one way or another, and not with words or petty disobedience.
She was going to use her delicate mind, which made me want her even more. It took a someone just a tad insane to
match what, and who, I was.
A beautiful woman was a beautiful woman, but a beautiful woman with a brain? That was crucial to my operation. A necessary trait for what I had planned next.
Chapter Nineteen
I could do this.
I could remain intact and fall apart later. There was something else going on here, something deliberately being kept from me. That was painfully obvious.
The list of questions I wanted answered was growing by the minute. If I kept my head high, mouth shut, and held onto the wisp of clarity I had left, I might be okay.
Someone else's tactic may have been fighting him, testing him, or falling apart. None of that would get me anywhere, and it could potentially get someone close to me killed. I wasn't going to call him on his bluff.
My lips remained in a straight line as he led me deeper into the dark. We walked on a worn path, side by side. I was cognizant of the guests trailing after us. His brothers joked with the dates they were with; his mother was telling another woman about my dress. Everyone was completely fine with what was transpiring. It was an ordinary evening in the realm of psychos.
Two noticeable people missing from this event were my parents. They had to of started searching for me already. Otherwise they would have been here. They’d never missed an Andreou function. I couldn’t help but wonder how Julian planned to keep this silent. If word got out who his bride was, my mom and dad would know exactly what happened to me.
Even if it somehow didn’t, my father was the Andreou accountant. He’d have to show up sooner than later.
He had no idea this part of Chateau Dahlia existed, though. Right?
Julian gave my hand a squeeze, pulling me back to a grim reality just as we emerged into a round clearing with a decent sized hole in the center. The smell was putrid, rancid. I repeatedly swallowed to stop myself from gagging up the bile in my empty stomach. Tears formed in my burning eyes.
"What are we doing here?" With a hand over my nose, I looked at him. A few people behind us coughed. Someone else vomited and laughed at the same time.
"It's tradition that the bride makes her first kill on her wedding night." He said this as mundanely as someone announcing it would rain the next day. We looked at one another, and I began to shake my head, suddenly much more aware of all the eyes drilling into my back.
"No. You don't do that. Forget them; this is for me and you.” He reached out and gripped my chin painfully tight, standing in front of my anxiety like a brick wall.
"I don't know if—"
"If you say you can't, I'll use someone as a replacement," he breathed in my ear.
"Bailey." He stepped away from me and motioned her forward when I failed to respond. When she got within reaching distance, he grabbed hold of her shoulder and maneuvered her so that she was facing me.
He pulled a bayonet from within his tuxedo pocket and placed it against her throat. No one around us said a word or stepped in to stop him. A soft whimper slipped from her lips when he dug the tip into her neck, a little pebble of blood welling up where it stuck.
"Why do you want me to do this?" My heart was beating erratically; I had to tell myself to breathe. No one here was going to help me. This was their twisted little world, and right now I was an outsider.
"Who, Jules? Who is it?" I rushed out, remembering my fuck up the first time he asked me a question. From the wicked smile on his face, I knew I'd succeeded in pleasing him. For now.
"You’re a fast learner, Mrs. Andreou."
"Who. Is. It?" No way was I acknowledging that last name. For the sake of making it through the next five minutes, I couldn't.
"Joseph, go on up, honey." Julian’s mother spoke sweetly to a man I couldn't see. When Joseph finally hobbled forward with a smile on his face, my mouth dropped. He was our officiant.
"I can't kill a priest." I mentally cursed everyone who laughed, as if I'd just told a joke.
"Any particular reason why?" Julian questioned amusedly.
"Yeah, I don't want to burn in hell beside you." He gave me the biggest smile he had thus far, showcasing his deep dimples and perfect teeth, adding beauty to his face that he didn't deserve. He should have been ugly; it would have matched his insides better.
Joseph placed his hand on my shoulder and gave a slight shake of his head. "None of that. I have roughly a month left to live, and the Andreous have always been good to me. They do good work here. I'd be honored to go out by the new Mistress."
Mistress?
"It's hard now. It gets better." He kissed my cheek and gave me a warm smile.
Julian took the bayonet away from Bailey’s throat and held it out to me. All I could do was stare at the wicked looking blade, unable to physically take it from him.
"I'll help you, Dollface." He moved away from Bailey and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing the black handle into my palm.
“What is wrong with you people?” I whispered, watching Joseph kneel in front of me like he was sacrificing himself to the gods. "This can’t be real."
"Let me show you how real this is." Julian murmured in my ear.
Nothing about what happened next would ever leave my memory.
Julian covered my shaking hand with his, lowering it to assist me in dragging the bayonet across Joseph’s neck. It took more pressure than I thought it would, and the angle in which we pressed the knife down felt strange.
The smile on Joseph's face and his blood spraying out onto my dress shocked me to somewhere I couldn't come back from.
I was still staring down at his body when people began to clap. I looked up to a sea of monsters, celebrating a loss of life.
I had to ask myself, where was my remorse?
What did I just do?
Chapter Twenty
I wasn't sure how I slipped away.
The party went on, but there was nothing to celebrate. Unlike me, Julian had no qualms about entertaining.
I was wandered off on my own, I wondered how a place like Chateau Dahlia could truly exist. When I considered a few facts surrounding this place, it wasn't so farfetched.
A big fancy estate in a rural area, owned by a prominent family that founded the town it was located in. A town known to be safe. Not one single missing person's flyer had ever been placed from Riverview. Come to think of it, not even Penny’s.
Whoever the people were being brought here and killed, they were being taken from somewhere else. If the priest’s words were anything to go off, not everyone murdered were good people. Did that make Julian a vigilante?
When I stopped walking and considered where I had come to, I realized I’d wandered into the old stables, which is where Julian found me. On a set of dusty stairs, sniffling and struggling to get out of the bloody dress.
Being naked was better than wearing a dress in a color I had no right to be in, with the blood of a priest stained into its silk fabric.
"Morgana." He almost sounded distressed.
"Go away, Julian." I kept my back turned to him, feeling the heat from his solid body as he approached.
"I can't ever go away, Morgana. I need you. And I've never needed anyone. You kind of fucked me up."
I did my best to ignore the vulnerability in his voice. Why did I care about him? Why after all he’d done would I still pull the heart from my chest and let the man I loved demolish it?
He placed his hands on my zipper, sliding it down. Then, he shoved my dress to the floor, helping me remain steady when I almost fell over the skirt. Down to nothing but white lacy boy shorts, he turned me around and placed his hands on either side of my face.
We didn't say anything; I think our eyes made up for our lost words. Julian was not an ordinary man, and I wasn't an average woman. That combination created one dysfunctional mess of a couple who had no business being together. I had just killed a man, and I felt sorrier that I didn't feel sorry.
Julian pressed his mouth to mine and pulled away, searching my face for something I wasn't sure he'd find. He kissed me ag
ain, this time with a bruising hunger and breath-stealing desire.
The sound of his zipper going down made me falter. His mouth and his hands brought my attention back to him. He lowered me down to the stairs, gently, and then dragged my underwear down my legs.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His cock pushed forward, stretching my swollen pussy as he slid inside me, burying himself as far as he could, drawing a breathy gasp from my throat.
His strokes were impassioned; he thrust hard, causing the stairs to dig into my back. My arms went around his neck; my hands buried themselves in his hair. He rolled his hips, moving in and out at a steady pace.
"Never leave me," he rasped, slamming into me with each word. "Ever. I need you." The sudden emotion in his voice shocked me. He groaned my name, bringing his mouth to mine. His teeth sank into my tongue, setting a pain signal off in my brain. My pussy clenched around him. I drew him closer.
Our bodies moved together in a blur of motions that had us hitting an overwhelming peak together.
He caught my cry with his mouth as he growled, climaxing with me and barely stopping his body from crushing mine completely. Our foreheads touched; our warm breaths intermingled in a comfortable dance.
We remained that way for an unmeasured amount of time before he pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants.
“Do you want to see your sister?”
I blinked dumbly, taking a second to process what he’d just asked me. Unsure if he was being serious or not, I nodded.
He wrapped his tuxedo jacket around me, and wordlessly lifted me into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
I leaned against the solid steel door, listening to Penny have an entire conversation with herself. She never responded to anything I said. When the hired caretaker took in her meals, she would yell incoherently, throw the food, or attack them.
It had been the same routine every day for the past eight weeks. From the very first night Julian brought me to this door, he forbade me from going inside or seeing her face to face. He said she was dangerous.
Malice (Dahlia Saga Book 1) Page 8
