Page 34 of Marrying Bluebeard

ADELAIDE

Each step feels like a death march as the singing grows louder, twisting around my limbs like barbed wire. Ricard has taken possession of Louise’s knife, and the tip prods my back any time my feet fail to move. The stairwell spirals higher and higher, and I fear my heart may break through the walls of my chest, it’s pounding so hard. A light appears, glowing behind the curved stone wall, and Ricard gives me a sharp push as I freeze, legs locked in place.

I have no wish to see what waits at the top.

“C’mon, girlie, up we go.”

My mouth is dry, fear burning my tongue, but I hold my head up high. “That’s Madame de Montragoux to you, sir.”

Ricard snorts. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“I don’t take your meaning,” I reply, stalling for time before I’m forced up the remaining steps. Forced to see what lurks behind the final curve.

“Not to worry,” he chuckles, jabbing that wretched blade into my side. “You will.” This time I feel the tip pierce my dress, feel the resulting dampness seep into the fabric. Oddly, the cut itself is the least offensive. I’m too numb to mind the pain.

When his knife fails to move me, Ricard mutters a curse before lifting me and hauling me up the last few steps. I squeeze my eyes shut. If I don’t look, maybe it will go away. Perhaps I’ll wake and find it’s all been a dream.

The singing stops, and a voice sighs through the sudden silence. “There you are. Did my naughty Bertrand make you late?” They make a tsking sound. “I’m afraid the tea has grown cold, and bunny’s eaten all the cake.”

I crack one eye open.

And find another that gleams deep crimson in the candlelight, an overly-wide grin stretching out beneath it. “You may go now, Ricky.”

“But mistress⁠—”

“Leave us.”

Now both of my eyes are open wide, darting between the creature looming before me and the chamber of death and torture that spills out around her. Blood stains the papered walls, and skeletons hang like gruesome artwork, their decaying shells dressed in bonnets and frilly dresses. A four-poster bed of twisted iron is spread with purple silk and piled with matching, gold-trimmed pillows. Off to the side, a table is laid out with a porcelain tea set, a mix of toy animals and cracked dolls seated in chairs around it. The creature—a woman in appearance, with a black veil covering her long white hair and a lacy black dress hugging her generous curves—frowns at the stuffed bunny, and I swallow a scream when I see its insides move.

A worm pokes out from behind a button eye, and my stomach roils.

The creature’s gaze slides back toward mine. “Look at you. So lovely.” Her head tilts as she studies me, and I have an overwhelming desire to dive beneath the bed and hide. “Is that why Bertrand didn’t bring you sooner?” Her eyes narrow, sending a jolt of fear down my spine. “Is it true what Ricky said? Were you doing naughty things with my husband?”

My brain screams at me to run as she glides toward me, but I’m rooted to the spot.

Her voice drops to a husky whisper. “He should know better than to soil my new doll with his dirty hands.” Gleaming white teeth flash between red-painted lips, and I stare in horror at the unnaturally long canines protruding from each side.

“You really are a lovely little doll, though,” she purrs, fingertips grazing my chin and guiding my gaze upward. Her eyes are lit with a mesmerizing glow, and I sway as a wave of euphoria washes over me. My mistress thinks I’m lovely.

“So different from the others. Not at all what I usually prefer.”

A sob works its way up my chest. I can change. Whatever it takes. Just please don’t despise me.

“Special, perhaps.”

My heart bursts with joy.

She brushes the hair off my shoulder, and I tremble beneath her touch. A desperate yearning tugs at my core as she leans in, her breath slipping over my skin like melting ice. I tip my head back as her lips caress my neck, an inexplicable excitement coursing through me. When she pulls back, I can’t help a whimper of disappointment.

“Hush now. None of that,” she admonishes. “I am going to taste you, but we mustn’t make it too obvious or it’ll spoil the fun.” She lifts my hair, tucking my head forward as her mouth latches onto the base of my skull. A flicker of pain, a tightening of my chest, and then…

Bliss.

Pure, utter bliss.

Her tongue glides over the back of my neck before she looses my hair, letting it fall back into place as I lift my head. “There now,” she coos. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

I can hardly catch my breath long enough to answer. “Yes, mistress.”