by T. M. Hart
I took a few deep breaths and began to make my way back to the vehicle, picking leaves and twigs out of my hair and trying to brush all the dirt off my dress. When Maxim saw me approaching, he opened the back door without a word.
"Small bladder," I mumbled as I climbed in.
Maxim raised his brows. "Ah," was his polite reply.
We started down the rocky path once again. Luckily, I hadn't entirely blown my cover. I had not demonstrated my fighting skills. I had only run.
But now Maxim knew I was quick and on the defensive. That wasn't good. I needed to play up the innocent princess persona. I thought about pretending to cry, but I wasn't sure I could do so convincingly.
Instead, we rode along in silence, the countryside cloaked in darkness.
It seemed that the only thing trying to creep upon us were the trees. The farther we went, the closer the tree line got. Until finally we came to a point where they had encroached upon either side of the path, creating a tree tunnel. Hundreds of oak trees grew shoulder to shoulder on each side of us, arching overhead and twining into a canopy above, effectively blocking out any light from the night sky.
They were silent sentinels in the dark. And I knew that once we passed through, there would be no turning back.
I reached for my cloak and wrapped it tight around my shoulders, slipping the dagger of Light into the pocket, but maintaining a firm hold on the hilt. We crept through the dark passageway, and as we passed tree by towering tree, I couldn't help but feel that I was being watched.
We finally reached the end of the tunnel and came to a stop. An intricate wrought iron gate, as tall and wide as the oak trees, blocked our path. Maxim waved a hand through the air and murmured something in the Dark Tongue—the Shadows’ ancient language. The imposing gate seamlessly obeyed, slowly swinging open without disrupting the silence of the night air. An ominous welcome.
We emerged from the oak tunnel into a rolling valley surrounded by stark cliffs. On a hill, directly ahead of us, sat a dark manor with ancient stones that had blackened over time. Not even the tiniest flare of light flickered from behind the cobwebbed windows.
Yet, hanging low in the sky was a red harvest moon, looming behind the manor like an unholy halo.
We pulled up to the front door. I looked around, but I could neither see nor sense anyone on the manor grounds. If anything, the surrounding space reeked of abandonment.
Spaces that are active, that host the living, have a certain residual energy—regardless of what type of being has been there, be they Radiants or Shadows or anyone else.
This space lacked evidence of any life. There had been no activity here in . . . ages.
I couldn't fathom what this place was or why I had been brought here. "Where are we?" I breathed.
Maxim looked at me through the rear-view mirror, his gray eyes shimmering in the darkness. "Welcome to your new home, your highness. Welcome to the Dark Manor."
"But this is aboveground," I countered.
"Yes," he agreed, sounding confused.
"It's deserted."
Glossing over my comment, Maxim parked the vehicle and replied, "Please allow me to assist you," as he exited the SUV.
I didn't wait for Maxim. I got out on my own and stood next to the vehicle, looking up to take in the entirety of the manor. It was a dark shell which housed no life within. The grounds surrounding the front were overgrown and unkempt.
"Are you locking me away here?"
Maxim looked horrified. "Not at all. You are free to leave whenever you like. If there is somewhere you request to visit, I will take you. You need only ask."
"Does anyone live here?"
Maxim looked uneasy. "The prince and the Crone."
"Who?"
"Our prince," he cleared his throat, "that is to say, your groom. And the Crone. She tends to the manor." He crossed to the front entrance and opened one side of the large double doors. The ancient wood creaked on its hinges. Maxim tried to discreetly wipe away a cobweb from the casing, but it was in vain. There was no hiding the webs and grime that coated this place.
When I hesitated to enter, Maxim shook his head. "Your highness—"
I held up my hand, weary of the night's events. I had had adrenaline constantly pumping through every twist and turn of the evening. I was tapped out.
I had been expecting to arrive at the heart of the Shadow Court—some hole in the ground swarming with ghoulish looking Shadows who would try to torture me in the most gruesome of ways. I had not been expecting to arrive at an abandoned, haunted mansion in the middle of nowhere.
"Please, just call me Violet," I told Maxim.
"I don't believe that would be appropriate, your highness," he countered.
"Okay, well what if I command you to?" I asked, desperate for this night to come to an end.
Although his jaw clenched, he nodded. "Very well . . . Violet."
I immediately had to stop myself from laughing. Simply calling me by name seemed a certain kind of torture for him, but Maxim managed to persevere. "I understand the Dark Manor is in an unacceptable state. I did request that you be escorted to the Shadow Court instead of the manor. However, Barrister Corbett insisted the terms of the marriage agreement state you are to reside here."
"The Dark Manor is not the seat of the Shadow Court?"
"No, it has not been for many years. The court moved to London some time ago. It is where our parliament currently takes office."
"Among the mortals?" I asked in surprise.
"Yes," Maxim confirmed.
"Have you outed yourselves to them?" I was suddenly panicked. It had been agreed long ago by a council of various immortal factions that our differences would remain clandestine.
"No," he reassured me. "Our government operates under the guise of a private corporation."
He looked up at the façade of the manor. "I did manage to have your quarters prepared for your arrival. If you would like to follow me? It is a tad more pleasant than the exterior suggests."
I looked up at the soulless structure that was now my new home and let out a slow breath. I didn't care what Maxim said. This was clearly a grave. It was above ground, but it was somewhere to bury me away, alone and forgotten.
If he spoke the truth, though, if the Shadow Prince did in fact reside here, well that was all that mattered.
I turned to Maxim. "Please, lead the way."
The interior was dark, lit only by the moonlight which poured in through the open door.
"Maxim, may we have some light?" I asked.
"Yes, of course, your . . . Violet. Allow me to—"
"I'll take care of it," I told him. I sent a pulse of energy to the chandelier overhead. Two dozen candles flared to life. Chandeliers lined the long foyer in each direction. One after the other sprang to life until the space was bathed in the warm glow of light from above.
I was startled at what I found. The interior was quite opulent. Marble, mahogany, and crystal filled the space. It was all buried under dust and cobwebs, but this had once been a grand setting.
"Your quarters are this way." Maxim took me up several flights of stairs until we reached the fifth floor. I lit chandelier after chandelier along the way and found more of the same–dust and cobwebs covering abandoned, forgotten luxury.
We arrived at a set of interior doors. Maxim opened the doors and stood back to allow me to enter.
The wing opened into a sitting room. An oversized fireplace sat on each end of the room. Flicking my wrists in opposite directions, two large fires roared to life . . . and, again, I was startled at what I found.
It was lovely.
I sent another pulse of energy overhead and the large crystal chandelier shimmered with candlelight. A Persian rug covered the wood floor. Sitting atop it was a white antique settee, covered with soft throws and pillows. There were also two wingback chairs arranged for a cozy sitting area. And two towering bookcases lined the graceful archway which led to a welcoming dining room and main hal
lway. The space was clean and clear of the dust and grime found around the rest of the manor.
"Your bags have been unpacked. All your items are in the master bedroom. There is a bathroom, as well," Maxim gave a surreptitious glance at my hair, "if you would like to bathe."
I fought the urge to touch my hair. I had a feeling there were still a few leaves stuck in there.
He withdrew a card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. "This is my number. You need only to call and I will be available to assist you in whatever you request." Then he gave a bow. "Welcome to your new home, your highness. I hope you will be comfortable. Good night."
"Wait," I demanded. "That's it?"
Maxim looked uncomfortable. "Yes, I am afraid so, your–Violet. I did inquire as to a staff to tend to your needs, but again, Barrister Corbett insisted that his instructions had explicitly counseled against the placement of any individuals within the manor. My deepest apologies. It is rather uncouth, but I have been assured that your meals will be delivered to your dining quarters."
It was silly and childish, but I had a moment of panic. I didn't want Maxim to abandon me in this place. I would have so much rather been attacked.
Yet, I threw my shoulders back and notched my chin. "Thank you, Maxim. That will be fine."
And with another bow, he left.
I stood there, uncertain what to do. Before I was able to make a decision, though, I heard something shuffling out in the hall.
I turned to the suite doors. Ready.
A hunched, robed figure hobbled into the room. The individual had the hood of the tattered robe drawn, and I could not make out a face beneath. Ancient, gnarled hands carried a covered tray.
Without so much as a glance in my direction, the figure shuffled through the sitting area and into the dining room.
The Crone.
I was horrified that someone so old was waiting on me.
"I can take that." I began to cross to her, but she stopped where she was. Her cloaked head swiveled in my direction, and I halted in my attempt to help. I could not see beneath the brown hood, but I knew better than to take another step towards her.
There was an air of authority. It was weak and flickering, almost as if traveling from a great distance, but there just the same.
She resumed her course to the dining table and, with great difficulty, set down the tray. Without looking at me, she began to make her way to the door.
"Thank you," I tried. "This really isn't necessary. I can fetch my own meals."
But there was no acknowledgment from the Crone. She shuffled away as if I wasn't there, closing the door of the suite behind her.
I went over and collapsed on the settee, utterly confused. There had been no formal welcome. No ghoulish court members awaiting my arrival. No Shadow Prince hosting a banquet of raw flesh in my honor. No ghastly introductions.
And there had been no attempt to kill me. No attack. No threat.
It was just . . . well . . . it was fucking rude, is what it was. I could guarantee that at the Radiant Court, we would have at least done one or the other—we had some manners.
Sitting there, stewing over my current situation, I stared into the fire.
I hadn't meant to fall asleep. It was foolish to think I was safe. But I was lulled by faraway whispers. They circled around me, flitting in and out of my hair. Murmuring. Murmuring. They told me to sleep. To dream.
There were no problems. No worries. No need to be on guard.
Little by little my eyes drooped, heavy anchors I could no longer hold open. I became swept up in an undertow . . . and I drifted away.
Chapter 7
I arched my back and my shoulders dug deeper into the mattress. My feet slid over the softest cotton as I rubbed my thighs together. I spread my arms wide just to feel the cool downy material against my burning skin.
When I opened my eyes, I saw from the light of a bedside candle that I lay on black sheets in a massive bed. A damp chill hung in the air and despite my skin being ablaze, the cool air made my nipples pucker under the gauzy lace bra I wore.
My blood was on fire, tearing through my veins like an inferno. My breasts ached in the scant lingerie that barely covered them. But what was most torturous was the throbbing need at my very core. The lacy panties I wore were soaked, and my center felt hot and swollen. I rubbed my thighs together again and cried out.
I stilled. Someone else was in the room with me. I turned my head, feeling my hair caress my shoulder, and looked to the entryway of the dark bedroom.
A man stood there. He was cloaked in the shadows, but I could see his broad shoulders heaving up and down with each rapid breath he took. His hands were stretched out to either side of the doorframe and he was clutching the wood there.
I sat up and moved onto my hands and knees. I began crawling across the bed towards the man. "I need you." My voice was raw and desperate.
The wood on either side of the doorframe splintered where the man crushed it in his big hands. I needed those hands on me. I needed him to come to the bed. But he just stood there.
When I reached the edge of the bed, I rolled onto my back with my head hanging off the side. I arched my back again. This time it was with purposeful invitation.
I trailed my finger up from my navel, between my breasts, up my neck, to my mouth. Then I sucked on it before drawing it out with deliberate slowness. All the while my gaze burned at where I knew his eyes were.
"It's so simple. It's so easy. Just come to me," I begged.
He took one halting step forward before jerking himself to a stop.
I sat myself up and continued forward until I was on my hands and knees again. This time I was facing away from him. I let my chest and head fall onto the bed, propping my hips up in the air.
My knees were spread far apart and just a scrap of lace fabric stood between him and his view of me. I knew the sight I was displaying for him was ratcheting him even higher as he let out a low hiss. It was as if he had been burned.
With my head angled to the side as it was, I still had a view of him. His hand traveled down to his own aching shaft, but he clenched it into a fist just before he was about to palm himself over his pants.
I rubbed my cheek against the cool cotton. "Just put your hands on me," I whispered.
As his sexual fervor had been escalating so too had something else. Something dark and dangerous. I had felt it pulsing in time with his lust. It was . . . anger.
I could feel a snap in the air when it hit a breaking point. He threw his head back, bellowing to the ceiling, before vanishing away in a swirl of inky shadows.
◆◆◆
The moment he disappeared I awoke. I snapped up, panting. I had to look around and it took me a moment to realize where I was and what had happened. I was lying on the settee in the sitting room of the Dark Manor.
A dream. It had been the most intense and realistic dream I had ever had, but still, it was just a dream.
Sweat covered my body causing my dress to cling to my skin. I was breathing fast and heavy, but what was most disturbing was the throbbing ache I felt at my core.
I was slightly panicked, never having experienced this feeling before. My body felt alien and wrong. Unsure what to do, I slipped my hand into my panties.
As in my dream, the fabric was drenched. I was hot and swollen and I had to stifle a cry when my fingers grazed my sensitive skin. With a start, I realized what was happening.
After so long. After thinking I was broken. Thinking I would never experience base desires as others did so readily. I was aroused.
My body was sexually responsive. With an eager greed I stroked again, and again I was forced to stifle a cry. Two more strokes and the need, the build, the throb, the ache culminated in a flooding crescendo of unimaginable pleasure. Wave after pulsing wave battered through me until I was left sweaty and breathless.
I lay there stunned. I was unsure what to think or even feel.
I thought of the man in my dream.
He had been so real. And I had experienced sexual desire for someone for the first time in my life.
In the darkness of the room, with the embers smoldering in the fireplace, my lips curled into a slow smile.
◆◆◆
I had survived my first night in the Dark Manor. I wasn't gagged and bound. I hadn't been tortured and raped. No one had killed me in my sleep. Quite the contrary, my quarters had been flooded with light as soon as the sun rose, and breakfast had been set on the dining table for me.
It was . . . weird.
Unsure what to do, I poked around the quarters, inspecting the various rooms. Nothing seemed amiss. And all in all, it was a lovely suite. Additionally, I had to admit that my personal bedroom wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was striking.
The room was large with high vaulted ceilings. Along the east facing wall were three, floor to ceiling windows. Each one must have been eight feet wide.
Substantial drapes made from heavy fabrics were tucked into discreet casings, completely hidden from view. They casings allowed the windows to stand unobstructed, without any frills. However, the drapes could be pulled free to effectively block out the copious light filtering in.
The exposed bricks along the eastern and southern walls had been painted white. But the paint had faded and peeled in many spots, allowing some black to show here and there. And from the age darkened mahogany beams running across the ceiling, a large crystal chandelier hung. Even the diffused light from a cloudy sky was enough to make it sparkle and shine.
The bed was sizable but sat on a wood frame which was low to the ground. There was no headboard or footboard. The frame had the same black-brown color as the exposed beams overhead and extended just beyond the mattress. Paired with the fluffy white bedding, the effect somehow reminded me of a nest or cozy pallet.
And best of all, directly across from the foot of the bed was the immense fireplace. While the walls running along the windows and the bed were the painted white brick, the southern and western walls were a smooth plaster. Jutting from the white wall was the oversized mantle. The light gray stone created an incredible square arch, running up and across the length of the fireplace.
