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I tower over her, crowding her, which elicits another little heave of her chest. It’s subtle but does not slip past me. “No, you may not. I am the lord of this manor. So I will decide where we will eat and when we will sleep and how we will fuck. Is that understood?” I pose the question to the remaining servants who stand awkwardly by, waiting to be dismissed. Praying to be is more like it.

I’m hit with a quick burst of nods and words of agreement. Yes, my lord is my new favorite phrase. These are the words that men like me could only ever dream of hearing. Until now. And it has nothing to do with the gods, but I think it might have to do with her precious ravens.

Arkana grunts and pushes past them, leaving me at the front entrance like a spoiled child. But the more she defies me, the harder my cock swells for her sweet cunt. “That will be all. Carry on.”

I’ve never seen a group of staff scurry faster. I can’t help but chuckle as they have no idea that I was lesser than them mere days ago. The poison fields are a death landscape, a thankless and treacherous abyss. Those who don’t die from the toxins become addicted to them. With a few exceptions, myself being one whose only addiction is to dark things. Poison tenders are the bottom of the barrel of society. The absolute scum of Melancholia. Aquarius Thorn and his family made sure of that.

As I trot back into the infirmary, Dr. Wickford lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for the love of the ravens. Shall I have Cook hide all the knives?”

I plop down on his examination table with a smirk. “Gods no. Where would be the fun in that?”

He groans as he prepares his implements. “If you’re not careful, Lord Erebus, she’s going to turn you into a piece of patchwork.”

I finger the vines of my necklace as he stitches me. Despite my deception and my desire to steal her family’s legacy, I cannot take my eyes off her when she’s in the room. I do not want to. It’s as if no one else exists but us. And every time she stabs me is just delicious foreplay.

I let a lazy grin pull at the corners of my mouth. “If I’m not careful, I’m going to let her turn me into whatever she wants.”

ARKANA

I throw open the windows of the manor and let the cold in. The currents cool my heated flesh, bringing me back down to some semblance of normalcy. He has changed the way I breathe. The way I move. And I fear that if I spend one more night with him, I won’t recognize myself at all.

I touch my cheek, the spot where his blood touched. How can just the slightest flicker of his fingers send me into a state of frenzy? I had agonized over marrying a stranger. I had feared having to spread open for a man who repulsed me. But I had never planned on becoming bound to a man who shakes me to my core. A man with a darkness that burns so hot, it makes me question everything I thought I wanted.

“Your whiskey, my lady.” Olga sets the glass on the window ledge. She waits by my side until I acknowledge her.

I blow out a deep breath finally, and watch it linger in front of me like smoke. “How much did you hear in the carriage?”

She sighs. “I will not lie to you like the others do. You have been my charge since I first bounced you on my knee. We heard every vile thing, my lady. You need to be careful, Arkana.” She lowers her voice a notch when she calls me by my name. An informality that would be considered grounds for dismissal if I were a Graves by any other name.

But this woman has been like a second mother to me. And her daughter, Delia, like a sister at times. Before my mother drove a wedge between us. It is frowned upon to be too friendly with your servants. And my mother is as cold as ice, so she would know best.

“Is it not how a lady serves her husband?” I hold a drop of the whiskey in my mouth, swirling it against my tongue before enjoying the peppery sting of it on my throat.

She shakes her head. “None that I have seen. You do not seem like yourself, my lady. And there is something wrong with Lord Erebus. I am afraid for you.”

A shiver travels up my spine so slow and deliberate I think the devil himself sent it. “He’s from the North. Perhaps that is just their way.”

She starts again but catches herself, averting her eyes to the floor. “Yes, my lady. Perhaps you are right.”

“Where is he at this moment?” I grip the crystal goblet as I lock eyes with a raven perching on the skeleton tree that bows over the frozen ground. It cocks its head from side to side but stays silent.

“I do not know, my lady. Delia mentioned he may be in the crypt below.”

Another shiver. This one ripples through me with force. “Ah yes, our empty crypt which waits for us to die so we may fill it with our decay.”

Olga refills my goblet. “I brought the bottle.”

“Good woman,” I praise her before taking another sip of the vanilla-tinged libation. “You know me well, Olga. What would you have me do? What would you do?”

Her cheeks turn bright red. “Oh, no, I cannot answer that. I would never be in your position to understand such a question.”

I turn away from the open window and dangle my goblet underneath her nose. “Drink. And then tell me what you would tell Delia to do.”

The trembling woman scans the hallway in search of ghosts, it seems. For no one comes up here but us and those I summon. She gently pushes my hand back toward me. “I would tell her to lock her door every night and pray that his interest in her wanes.”

I snicker. “Lord Erebus will only break mine down.”

She nods. “I am sorry your mother has done this to you, Arkana. There are other ways…”