Page 47 of Marrying Bluebeard

I move to join her, but a soft voice from behind gives me pause.

“You’re going to set her free, aren’t you?”

Cressida, my second wife, hovers in the doorway, her freckled face carefully blank. For the first time since her death in 1801, she doesn’t look as if she wishes my immediate and excruciating death.

“I am.” I hold her unwavering gaze. “As I should have done with you.” She deserves more, they all do, but time is running short and I can’t afford to leave Adelaide alone for much longer. I pray she understands as I turn and jog down the walkway. An owl screeches overhead, almost burying the faint words that trail after me.

“Good luck.”

I smile grimly as I slow to a stop beside Adelaide. I’m going to need all the luck I can get. “There you are, darling.” I study her profile, the glazed expression on her face. Has she forgotten her fear already? Or will she try to run? I tense in anticipation. “Are you ready?”

Her gaze inches away from the castle until it's locked with mine. “Ready for what?” She shakes her head, not waiting for an answer. “We shouldn’t be out here, it’s late.”

I catch her wrist as she passes me, pulling her against me while I wrap an arm around her waist. “We’re not going back inside, love.”

The rise and fall of her chest increases as she throws a panic-stricken look up at the castle. No, not the castle—the tower. “But we must.” Her fists strike my chest, and I hiss as her knuckles hit the gaping wound over my heart. It’s a testament to the strength of Celeste’s hold that Adelaide doesn’t even notice the way her hands slip in the blood leaking out—my body too weak to fully close the wound.

I catch her wrists in my hands and pin them behind her back as gently as I can while still holding her in place. “No, Adelaide. You will never enter that place again. I swear it.”

“But—”

Her protest dies as my lips clamp onto her neck and my teeth carefully re-open the punctures before I suck. Celeste’s venom is like acid on my tongue, but I draw it out until my mouth is full. Spitting the dark substance onto the ground, I wipe my mouth and do it again, suck and spit, suck and spit, until every last trace has been removed. Adelaide slumps forward, and I scoop her into my arms, muscles shaking from the strain as I stumble forward.

The castle doors swing open with a bang, Edgar’s shouts carrying over the wind, and the sound fuels my tired limbs, pushing me to move faster as I carry her down the steps to the landing. Waves lap at the shore, the tide already high. I look for the rowboat, but it’s nowhere in sight. Shifting Adelaide a bit higher, I wade into the dark water, only to stop short as I feel Celeste’s mental tethers clamp down, refusing to let me move. Edgar must have alerted her of my escape, the old bastard.

If I can make it to the other side, I should be far enough to resist her pull.

A promising thought, if only I could move.

Adelaide stirs, curling into me so that her cheek is pressed against my chest. Her lips part on a sigh, her soft breath ghosting my wound. It creates the most soothing sting I’ve ever felt, and I cling to the feeling for all I’m worth as I attempt to drive my leg forward.

I can almost hear Celeste’s outraged shriek when it does.

Gritting my teeth, I focus on the other leg, sweat beading my forehead as I slowly push through the waves. I clutch Adelaide like a talisman, breathing her in when I stumble. Drawing from her presence. It’s a fragile strength, different from the raw power I feel when I drink Celeste’s blood, but it’s enough. And as my toes dig into the soil on the other side, I feel those wretched tethers snap at the same moment Adelaide’s eyes blink open, her startled gaze meeting mine as I drop to my knees in exhaustion and lay her carefully on the ground.

“You…” Her eyes widen, and she scrambles away as horror stains her face. She presses a hand against her neck and whimpers when she draws back bloody digits, her confused gaze lingering there for a long moment before it lifts. Gutting me with its accusation. “What are you?”

My hands ball into fists, knuckles digging into the soil as I hang my head in defeat. “I’m your villain.”

30

ADELAIDE

Too much. This is all just… too much. Ghosts, I’ve learned to cope with. They’re both comforting and terrifying by turns, but at least I know when I’m looking one in the eye. There’s no hiding what they are behind a mask of humanity. And I most certainly wouldn’t marry one by mistake.

“A villain.” I eye Bertrand with wary caution. “What does”—I swallow over a wince, head aching miserably—“what exactly does that mean?” I touch the still-bleeding marks on my neck, a fuzzy image of Bertrand growling with a flash of razor-sharp canines creeping into my head. It jumps to another picture, another set of fangs bared as a woman leans in close. My hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers pressing against a tender spot at the base of my skull. “That woman, in the tower”—my voice stutters at the memory of that accursed room and its bloody walls—“are you…” I avert my gaze, unable to look at this man I thought I knew, thought I loved. This stranger. “Are you like her?”

“Yes. And no.” His voice is tight, like he’s trying very hard to control it, and there’s a raspy edge that makes me want to pull him into my arms and kiss the pain away. I tuck my hands under my folded arms, pinning them to my sides.

He used you. Lied to you. Don’t forget—don’t you dare forget.

“Which is it? Yes or no? Because you’re either human or you’re…” A monster. I can’t bring myself to voice it. If I say it, it’ll be real, and there’ll be no going back after that.

“It’s… complicated.” Bertrand runs a hand over his face, fingers tugging at his beard. “If you truly wish to know, I promise I’ll tell you everything. Only it’s a long story and”—he lets out a hiss, jaw clenching as if in pain—“we’re running out of time. If I don’t drink my tonic soon, it’ll be disastrous for everyone.”

“Your tonic.” Panic claws up my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. “But your flask… I thought it was empty.” My hand instinctively cups my neck, covering the blood-slick wound as I flinch farther away.

A shadow passes over his face as his eyes track my movements, but he soon turns away, rising to his feet as he faces the dirt path leading the way we came in on that first night. “It is, but I have a small reserve hidden away in my safe house. If we leave now, we should be able to reach it before it’s too late.”