Page 13

I snicker. “You can clearly see I have my cock inside her. What more proof do you need?”

The shorter one clears his throat. “We are under orders to confirm that Lady Arkana has in fact broken her seal.”

The fury that is winding its way inside my veins threatens to unleash the beast in me and ruin everything. I pull out of her cunt and face them with my bloody dick. “How’s this for proof?”

Arkana whimpers on the bed. “Everyone out. Now,” she growls.

The tall initiate points to my leg. “You’ve been stabbed. The blood could be from your wounds. We must inspect the lady.”

I know what he means. “No.”

The short one points his blade at me. “Step aside, or else we’ll have to escort you off this property. This manor and everything in it belongs to Atreus Graves until we have proof that she has bled.”

I grit my jaw. I could snap both of their necks in seconds, but then we’d have to go through this whole mess again. That is assuming that Atreus Graves believes that their deaths were accidents. I have no ties to any of these people. No concern for them. I want their money and their power.

But I will not let them touch her. “I’ll make you a deal. You can watch me inspect my wife. And then you can run along to your elder and tell him all about it. Or… I can kill you both.”

The shorter one starts forward, but the tall one holds him back. If the fact that I am still standing with two daggers still wedged into my thighs is any indication of anything, it’s that I’m not bluffing. And I might be just a little bit mad.

“Very well.”

Arkana glares at the two initiates. “My uncle won’t always be in charge, you know. But I might be. I will remember this. I will remember you both.”

As they both chuckle at the notion that a woman could ever be an elder, I detect a darker threat in her tone. I see the fire in her eyes. Arkana Graves is not the one to cross. My bleeding thighs are proof of that. I think I shall spell out her name with my stitches just to remind myself to sleep with one eye open from now on.

Her breath hitches as I slide two fingers inside her wet cunt. If we were alone, I’d be tempted to play with her some more. I pull out and hold up my bloody fingertips. “There you go. Now run along. And if I ever see either of you in my manor again, I will slit your throats.” I stick my fingers into my mouth and suck the blood off.

Their eyes widen before they scramble out of the room, much less confident than when they entered.

I see one of her bright blue eyes peeking at me through the mass of her black curls. “Why did you do that?”

I grunt as I pull each of the daggers out of my thighs. “What? Taste my wife’s blood?” I take off my ruffled shirt, tear it into two pieces, then wrap each of my legs.

“The inspection… You didn’t let them touch me,” she murmurs.

I sigh. “There are things you need to understand about a man’s pride, Arkana. I will not allow any man to touch what’s mine. Not my manor, not my whiskey, and certainly not my wife’s cunt.”

She fidgets with the ribbons on her corset, her fingers frantic. “My coachman was mistaken. You’re not kind at all. I demand to speak to him immediately.”

That dark cloud within me crackles with a need to feed. I run one of the daggers up the back of her corset and cut through each ribbon, freeing her from the dreadful contraption. “That won’t be possible. He had an unfortunate accident on the road and didn’t make it.”

She gasps for air as the corset falls away from her. She takes a few deep breaths before glaring back at me. “If that is all, Lord Erebus, then I’d like to be alone now.”

I nod and limp out of the bedchambers in search of our infirmary. She’s wise not to trust me. For I do not trust her one fucking bit.

ARKANA

My uncle did that to humiliate me. And to send a message to my new husband to not get any clever ideas about who’s in charge. But everything is wrong. Last night shouldn’t have unfolded the way it did. If my father were here… I choke back a sob as it sinks in. He’s truly gone. The thought of never hearing him call me his dark angel ever again sends me into the worst bout of melancholy.

Over the rim of my teacup, I lock eyes with Bell as he staggers into the parlor. Any other man would not be walking after what I did to him. But this man is not like any other I’ve met. He’s strong, stubborn, and as mean as a one-eyed raven. And he’s determined to provoke me.

“Good morning,” I quip.

He smooths his black hair back and snickers. “Is it?”

My teacup rattles against its saucer as I set it down abruptly. “It would’ve been a great morning if you had bled to death.”

“It will take a lot more than two daggers to end me, my lady.” He helps himself to a teacup and plops down into one of the black velvet high-back chairs. We lock eyes as he removes a flask from his coat and pours from that instead of the piping hot pot of tea between us.