Copyright © 2017 by Amalia Altman
All Rights Reserved
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.
Facebook: Amalia Altman
Free Exclusive Gift
Sign up for my mailing list to get notified for new releases and get my latest Full-Length Novel “Prophecies Of Silver” (available to my subscribers only) for FREE.
Click the Link or enter it to your browser.
promo.amaliaaltman.com
Prologue
Betrayed by her family because of her mysterious powers, Elise Dawson is living on the streets of London when she is found by a local brothel owner, who takes her in despite the fact that Elise refuses to sell herself for money.
She isn’t at the brothel long before she is offered a job as a maid at the estate of Lord Julian Ashton, a man who may or may not be completely mad according to all of his previous maids, none of whom stayed more than a fortnight at the house.
Rather than afraid, Elise is curious about the rumors of ghosts and monsters at the estate, and take the job with every intention of exploring the mansion’s dark secrets. Despite her history of being betrayed by the people in her life and Elise’s vow not to get close to anybody again, she finds herself deeply drawn to Lord Ashton, who is dark, handsome, and for all Elise knows—extremely dangerous.
Elise and Lord Ashton find themselves attracted to each other in a way that is undeniably powerful, even though both of them have vowed to stay away from each other and the violent secrets that they each hold.
As a string of murders in the area starts to close around on them, Julian and Elise find themselves working both together and separately to solve the secrets surrounding the deaths before they catch up to them, and Elise herself becomes the next victim.
Chapter 1
Elise cursed as the cart wheeled past her, sending a spray of water from a puddle onto her feet.
Her stockings had just dried from the last time it happened, and she knew that she was going to be miserable for the next few hours while everything dried out all over again. She sighed, making her way down the street as she clutched her bag against her side. The bag contained the only things she had left after she’d been disowned by her family—a letter from her younger sister, an old blanket she’d had as a baby, and a book of nursery rhymes her mother had given her before she died. Nothing in there was valuable, but they meant the world to Elise, and she knew that in a neighborhood like this, half of the people around wouldn’t think twice about snatching her bag away if they thought she was carrying money.
It was getting dark outside by the time Elise got to the alley where she had been staying. She’d found a spot next to a tavern that had an awning at the side, and she found that if she laid down close enough to the wall, her body was sheltered from the falling rain. She would wake up in a puddle each morning, but at least her clothes weren’t wet and cold enough to make her ill. She shivered as she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, praying that she would wake up the next day. She never knew what was going to happen to her in this part of London.
Elise managed to fall asleep within an hour, and when she awoke, it was to the sound of voices. She froze where she was, holding her breath as if it had been loud enough for someone to hear it. The voices were close—two men who were standing just on the other side of the brick ledge she was hidden behind. If they looked down, they would see her. She felt her heart racing in her chest, pounding against her ribs as she waited for them to leave. Her heart stopped when a man’s face appeared over the ledge, his expression sliding into a wolfish grin.
“Well, look what we have here,” he said, and another man appeared over the ledge. Elise stared at them wide-eyed and scrambled to her feet, holding the small knife that she kept underneath her every night. She knew it was useless against them—their reach would be too long for her to make contact with either one of them before they could stop her. Still, it made Elise feel slightly safer a she stood in front of the two men, who were leering at her menacingly.
“What are you doing out here so late, miss?” the man on the right said. He was uglier than his friend—one of the ugliest men she’d ever seen, with a squished, malformed face and breath that smelled like rot. His friend was plain-faced and tall, with massive, thick arms that she knew she could never fight herself free from. She felt panic rising within her, but tried to fight it down; there was no way she was going to break down and cry in front of these men, not after what she’d already been through.
“Get away from me,” she said, holding the knife out in front of her. The ugly man laughed, knocking it out of her hand. He stepped over the ledge, put his hands on her arms and pushed her against the wall. Elise tried to squirm free of his grasp, but couldn’t—she was pinned there, helpless as the other man closed in on her as well. They both smelled like alcohol and she had to hold her breath to keep from gagging. She knew that smell, and she knew what it made men do. It only furthered her panic, and she tried to take a deep breath to calm myself as best as she could.
“I don’t—I don’t have any money,” she said.
“You have something better than money,” the man said as one of his hands cupped between her legs, pushing up her skirt. Elise kicked out at him instinctively, kneeing him between the legs. For a moment, he let go of her, and she dashed past him and down the alley. She didn’t get far before the tall man caught up to her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back in the direction of the awning. She fought like a wildcat to get away from him, knowing that if they forced her to the ground behind the ledge, nobody would be able to see or save her. She let out a scream, loud and piercing before the man clamped his hand over her mouth. She struggled, biting at his hand as he tried to hold her still. She saw a flash then in her mind—images in her head that she knew came from her attacker. What he was thinking, the things he was imagining doing to her, made her so nauseous that she almost got sick in his arms.
It was then that a woman came around the corner, large and robust, one hand on her hip while the other held a large rifle over her shoulder.
“You pig!” she shouted, coming right up to them and hitting the man across the head with a hard, open-palmed slap. “Get the hell away from her or I’ll shoot you.”
The man let go of Elise, cringing away from the woman. The woman was nearly as tall as he was and twice as wide, dressed in some of the most luxurious silks Elise had ever seen. They were brightly-colored, scarlet red with silver beads laid into the fabric, making her shimmer in the lamplight as she walked. Elise couldn’t stop staring at her and how magnificent she was. The look of anger on the woman’s face was a sight to behold, wild and fierce. Even Elise was intimidated by her in that moment, and she found herself shrinking away when the woman took her arm. Elise didn’t get a read on her—the woman was wearing silk gloves, and Elise was thankful for that as she pulled Elise away from the men. She was still overwhelmed by the visions she had gotten from her attacker, images that made her feel as dirty and disgusting as if he’d actually been able to go through with his plan.
“Where are we going?” Elise asked the woman as they made their way around the corner.
“In here,” the woman said, pushing through a wooden door set in the stone wall. Inside, a wave of warmth washed over Elise. The room was lively, filled with men and women in various stages of undress. Elise gaze
d around, drinking in the orange glow of the room from the fire in center, the way it made everything look warm and comfortable. The music was lively, too, occasionally making the room erupt in laughter as two fiddlers dueled on the small platform stage.
“This isn’t a regular tavern, is it?” Elise asked the woman who had brought her in. The woman laughed, loud and booming.
“Pretty little thing. Come upstairs with me, we’ll get you into some dry clothes.”
“Okay,” Elise said, following the woman through the room and up a grand wooden staircase. As she walked, she felt eyes caressing her from every angle. She looked around as she climbed and made eye contact with several people who were eyeing her as if she were candy—men and women alike looked at her in admiration, and she blushed and turned away, looking straight ahead as she followed the woman into a room to the left of the staircase.
The room was a small bedroom, plain with wooden fixtures and a cold, hard mattress that still felt like the most comfortable thing Elise had ever sat on when she sank into it. The woman came over to Elise and began to undress her with deft hands, lifting her so that she was standing and pulling her wet, dirty dress over her body. Elise was left only in her underclothes and suddenly felt shy as the woman continued to take them off. The woman clicked her tongue at Elise.
“Shyness isn’t going to get you by in here, love,” the woman said.
“I’m—I—I can do it myself,” Elise said to her, turning around and shedding her clothes completely.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen on a million girls before,” the woman grumbled, but didn’t force Elise to turn around before handing her a warm, dry shift over her shoulder. Grateful, Elise slipped it on and turned back to the woman.
“What’s your name, girl?” the woman asked.
“Elise,” she said. “What is this place?”
“This is my brothel. I’m Madam Svarosky. Are you a virgin, Elise?”
Elise found herself blushing deeply. “No,” she said, trying not to think about it. There had only been one man in her past, someone she avoided thinking about at all costs.
“That’s too bad. With that hair and those eyes, if you were a virgin…” she gave a low whistle, sizing Elise up with bright blue, calculating eyes. “Still, you’re pretty enough. You ever whored before?”
“No,” said Elise firmly, feeling something break inside of her. “And I’m not—please. I can’t.”
“You can’t stay here if you can’t work,” the woman said, a small frown on her face as she studied Elise. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-two,” Elise said.
“You look younger. You really don’t want to work for me here? You would bring in so much coin,” the woman said.
“I can’t,” Elise repeated firmly. “I won’t do it, I’d rather— “
She couldn’t even finish the sentence. Just the thought of having to give herself to some random man for money made her squeamish – especially given the things she saw when she made skin-to-skin contact with someone.
The woman stared Elise down for a moment, captivating her with that blue gaze. Her bright red lip quirked into a small smile.
“You got more spunk than you look like,” she said. “Must be that ginger hair.”
Elise only stood there and held her eye. She knew the woman was used to getting what she wanted, but there was no way that Elise was going to bend on this. When the woman didn’t respond any further, Elise assumed that meant she couldn’t stay. She picked up her wet dress, clutching it against her chest.
“Thank you for the shift,” she said stiffly, and began to march from the room. Elise didn’t feel poorly toward women who went into that trade, but she knew she could never do it herself.
“Wait,” said the woman. “You silly thing, you can stay here. There are clothes in the closet. Put on something pretty and come downstairs, check on the girls and see if they need anything. If any men bother you too bad, come to me. But they’re gonna look, sweetie, and you’ve gotta get used to that.”
Elise swallowed, nodding as the woman disappeared from the room, leaving her alone to get dressed. Elise walked across the room and opened the closet, surprised to see lush dresses in every color, beaded with pearls or gemstones. Some of them were lacey and low-cut, others were velvet with high throats and skirts that went above the knee in the most scandalous fashion Elise had ever seen. Elise pulled out the dresses one by one, her eyes wide in wonder. She had never seen anything half as beautiful as some of those dresses, and she knew they must have been specially made and cost a fortune. The fact that Elise could even touch them—let alone put them on—came as such a shock to her that she found herself holding her breath as she traced over the pearls with the tips of her fingers, as if exhaling would damage the fine, delicate fabrics.
In the end, Elise chose the simplest of the gowns. It was a pale cream lace that went down almost to her ankles, though it showed more cleavage than she would have liked. She couldn’t lace it herself, so she opened the door with the dress gaping open, looking for Madam Svarosky to help with the dress. Instead, she came face to face with a man. Startled, Elise took a step back, the dress falling open to reveal her bare breasts underneath. The man’s eyes flickered downward for only a second and there was a surprised look on his face when he met her eye again. Elise blushed and pulled the dress up over her chest, mortified and caught off-guard by the man’s presence.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “Were you just going to walk into the room unannounced?”
“I thought— “
“Just because this is a brothel doesn’t mean you don’t have to knock,” Elise said, holding the dress above her breasts.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This room is usually empty.”
Elise eyes were narrowed at him suspiciously, but she couldn’t help but to drink in his features. He was handsome—beyond handsome. In the light of the fire behind her, his face was illuminated in a way that was captivating. He had pale brown eyes that seemed to glow nearly orange, his dark hair thick and wavy. His cheekbones were high and carved perfectly onto a gorgeous face with full, masculine lips and a fine straight nose. She knew she had stared for far too long, because a small smile played over his lips that told her he had noticed her lingering gaze.
“Who are you?” he asked. The man was holding her eye with a somewhat playful look on his face, one that annoyed Elise deeply.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“What is your name?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said.
He chuckled. “You are such a rude girl. Does the madam know you speak to your customers this way?”
“You’re not my customer,” Elise said. “I’m not for sale.”
“At least let me help you with your dress,” he said, gesturing at where Elise was clutching it over her breasts.
“I don’t need your help,” she said, but he had already touched his hands to her waist to turn her body around. She allowed him to do so for some reason, freezing on the spot as she felt his fingers brush her spine through the fabric while he tightened the laces of the dress. When he got to the top and tied it off, she was afraid that his knuckles would brush her skin, that she would get a vision of what he was thinking in that moment. She was afraid to know what it was, given the tension in the room.
“Where did you come from?” he asked in a soft caress of a voice that made a rush of warmth flow through Elise’s body, overwhelming her.
“I found that one on the street,” came a voice behind them. They both turned to see Madam Svarosky standing in the doorway, looking at them both with raised eyebrows. Elise only then noticed how close they had been standing; though they’d turned to look at her, neither one of them had moved out of place, and they were close enough that Elise could feel the warmth of his body next to her. She pulled backward, blushing and looking away from the madam’s piercing gaze
.
“Is that right?” the man asked, looking at Elise with a curious expression.
“Yes. And forgive me, my lord, but this one is not for sale. I tried to convince her— “
“I’m not interested in this one, Madam Svarosky, but I thank you for the consideration,” he said, not taking his eyes from Elise. “She’s a bit too unruly for me.”
“I have several girls who are more docile, if that’s what you prefer, my lord,” said the madam. He finally turned to her and nodded, casting one last glance at Elise before following Madam Svarosky down the stairs again. Elise could still feel the man’s eyes on her even after he had looked away. His gaze had been disconcerting, meaningful, although he’d said himself he wasn’t interested. The thought was a relief to Elise, who didn’t want to be the object of anybody’s lust ever again.
Elise looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath, noting how gorgeous the cream lace looked on her skin. She was nervous, unsure of what to do next. Elise was afraid to simply go downstairs and join the other women—she didn’t know what she would do if some man mistook her for a whore and decided to make a move on her. Elise didn’t think that she would be able to resist hitting any man who touched her, and she had a feeling that Madam Svarosky wouldn’t take kindly to Elise slapping one of her patrons for getting fresh.
The door opened again without a knock and Elise turned to see that it was Madam Svarosky and another girl, one who looked to be about Elise’s age. The girl was thin and blonde with massive breasts that were pushed high in her gown. She had a round, sweet face and a bright smile.
“Hi,” said the girl, stepping forward into the room.
“Hi,” Elise said, glancing at Madam Svarosky with a question on her face.
“This is Polly,” the madam said. “She’ll show you around tonight.”
“I already had a customer,” said Polly. “Rich guy. Loves my tits.”
Madam Svarosky laughed from the doorway. “Don’t scare the poor girl, Polly.”
The Touch Of The Outcast Page 1
