4. Rose

4

Rose

One month later

Fire coursed through me as the skull-faced man kissed his way down my body. His lips landed on my hipbone, making me jolt and gasp, and I clenched the sheets on either side of me, feeling myself dripping all over the bed.

The man's mouth ventured lower, and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out. If anyone heard…

No. I couldn't think about that right now. All I could think about was the undeniable pleasure racing through me from the skull-faced man's touch.

I once thought he was the Devil, but now I knew that couldn't be true. The Devil would surely be cold to the touch, like death, but this man's lips were warm, and his sweet-smelling breath was hot on my thighs as he grunted out his satisfaction over the taste of my skin.

But…

Maybe that wasn't true after all. Maybe the Devil had come to me like this, warm and wonderful, just to entice me. After all, what we were doing right now was wrong. So wrong.

My purity was one of the only things that really mattered about me, and it granted me my elevated status in the Covenant. But right now, I was struggling very hard to fight my urges. I wanted this man's touch. I wanted his mouth and hands on me. In me. I wanted to feel… everything.

Only this man could give it to me. I didn't know exactly how I knew that, but I still knew it was true without a doubt.

"Oh… oh, yes. More," I said breathlessly.

His big hands crawled up my stomach to cup my breasts. At the same time, his mouth found a small spot directly between my legs; a spot that made me squirm and moan with bliss.

"You have to keep quiet, Rose," he growled, lifting his head. His enthralling green eye was glittering with lust. The other eye was still hollow and black as night, so dark and dangerous that I knew I'd get lost within it if I stared for too long.

"I know," I gasped out. I felt as if I were melting into a puddle on the sheets. "But I want you, sir. Please, I need it."

"I like it when you call me that," he said. Wickedness was emanating from him, making goosebumps stand up all over my bare skin. " Sir."

I didn't know what else to call him, because I didn't know his name, but I was glad that he liked it.

"Please, sir," I whispered. "Keep making me feel good."

"Oh, I'll do more than that, my sweet girl." His tongue dipped between my legs again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip so hard it bled.

I let the man take control of my body, letting my vows of chastity and purity scatter to the wind through the open window he'd slipped through.

His mouth and fingers toyed with every inch of me until I felt like I was about to combust, setting the whole room on fire with my desire. I was so close to reaching something, some sort of peak. One more kiss, one more stroke, one more flick of his tongue…

A door slammed distantly, and my eyes flew open. The man was gone, and I was left panting on the bed, my thighs slick with desire. My window was indeed open, but now I remembered that I'd left it that way last night in the hope that the cool breeze coming through would quell the fire constantly raging beneath my skin.

I groaned and rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut again as a hot wave of shame crashed over me. I was losing my mind, surely. Losing all sense of reality.

Just a few weeks ago, I had no idea the skull-faced man even existed. Now, he infiltrated my dreams every night and monopolized my thoughts when I was awake.

From the moment I spotted him in the woods, he'd taken control of my mind, blotting out all rational thought. I kept hearing his voice wherever I went, even though he was never there, and every time I saw someone wave to me out in the village, I thought of his hand, beckoning me to join him on the other side of the fence.

My obsession had grown and grown, like a weed inside my brain, and now… now I didn't know what to think at all. I didn't know what to do, either. I couldn't possibly tell anyone, because then I'd have to face a Confession.

Besides, I hadn't technically done anything wrong. After all, I still held my purity. A man or woman had never touched me. At least not like that. They were just dreams.

And yet, somehow I knew it was wrong anyway. Wrong enough that I'd very likely face punishment if anyone saw inside my mind and discovered my secret shame.

Another door slammed somewhere, and I sat up straight and rubbed my eyes before glancing at the clock on the wall. My heart sank. I was almost late for Rite of Devotion in the cathedral.

"Oh, no. No, no, no…"

I dressed as quickly as possible and raced down the main street, heart pounding. Others were allowed to be late, but not the daughter of the Governor.

With every step, I heard the skull-faced man's voice in my head, whispering terrifying yet thrilling words to me.

Not long now, Rose.

You're mine, Rose.

I grimaced and pushed the thought aside as I dashed into the cathedral and made my way to the front. My father was at the pulpit already, conferring with one of the elders. I'd made it in the nick of time.

When I sat down, Papa glanced over at me and smiled. Despite the seemingly happy expression, I knew he was displeased. I could always tell when he felt that way, because his smile wouldn't reach his eyes.

The service was nice, and my father spoke eloquently. When it was over, he brushed off those wishing to speak with him, directing them to the other elders instead, and headed toward me.

"Rosamund," he said, giving me another half-smile. "I need to speak with you in the chambers."

"I…" I trailed off and gulped. "Don't you have more work to do?"

"Not today. The alchemists are taking a few days off, so none of the elders need to accompany them to the cave for quite some time," he said. "Now, let's go and have some tea."

He beckoned me to a door beyond the pulpit that led to the cathedral chambers. He ushered me into one of the rooms, and I took a seat on a wooden bench while he busied himself boiling some water for the tea.

I knew it wasn't normal tea. We had that at home. There was a reason we were here in the church instead, and it wasn't good. He must have heard me crying out and moaning in the night, and now he wanted to know the truth—had I given up my purity? Had I broken every vow I ever made to the Covenant?

Fortunately, the answer was no, but I knew I could still be in trouble if I admitted the truth about what I'd seen in the woods and what it was doing to my mind. That wasn't supposed to happen to a celestial virgin like me. It meant I'd done something wrong. Something wicked. But how could I admit it and accept my punishment when I didn't even know what I'd done to entice the skull-faced man into my life?

I didn't deserve this at all.

Papa turned around a moment later, holding a small white teapot. He poured the sour-smelling tea into a cup in front of me. "Drink up, sweetheart."

The tea was made from a blend of moonshade and whisperwort plants, gathered from the woods. It had long been known to induce truth-telling, but there were ways around it if a person had enough mental fortitude. Essentially, you could tell the truth, but not the whole truth. Sometimes that was enough to avoid trouble.

Papa sat across from me, blue eyes dancing over my face as I slowly sipped at the scalding liquid. "You know I hate to do this," he said. "But your behavior in recent weeks has grown too strange to ignore any longer. People are noticing, and they are talking."

I swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

He remained silent for a moment. I knew why. He wanted to give the tea more time to take effect.

I took another sip. As the hot liquid cascaded down my throat, a sense of calm began to envelop me like a comforting embrace. My eyelids felt slightly heavier, and a gentle drowsiness washed over me, as if I were being lulled into a tranquil slumber. Beneath the surface, there was a sudden compulsion stirring within me, urging me to unburden myself of any secrets that might stop me from sleeping peacefully.

Papa smiled. "One more sip."

I did as he said. Then I set my teacup down and rubbed my eyes. They were beginning to blur. "Why am I here, Papa?"

"People have been noticing things about you over the last few weeks. You've been forgetful. Distracted. Often late. Your students have noticed this and made mention of it to their parents. The reason it's so noticeable is because you're usually such a wonderful, attentive educator."

"Mm-hmm." I blinked, trying to center my thoughts.

"It isn't just your students. Others have noticed too, including me. Your mind always seems to be elsewhere," Papa went on. "Just last night, when you were cooking dinner, I tried to talk to you about your day, and you didn't even seem to hear me. You were off in your own world."

"I know I've been distracted," I murmured.

He leaned forward. "I'm concerned something has happened to you. Something that may disturb the order of things."

I took a deep breath and nodded. Tell the truth. Just not all of it. "Something did happen, Papa," I admitted. "I had a vision."

"A vision?" His brows rose, and he sat up straight. "Tell me more."

"It was in the woods, while I was out for a walk. Ever since then, I keep thinking about it," I said. I took a deep breath. It was hard not to tell him every detail of what I'd seen that day, but I knew I must hold my tongue as much as possible.

He frowned. "I need more details about the vision. What happened during it? Was it good? Bad?"

"I… I don't know if it was good or bad. I can't tell anymore," I replied. That was the honest truth. The man with the skull face had terrified me at first, but now I felt drawn to him instead.

Clearly, there was something wrong with me. Something that was threatening my purity. And yet, I couldn't stop it. Didn't want to stop it. The way I felt when he came to me in my dreams was simply too good.

Papa pressed further. "What do you mean? What exactly did you see?"

"The vision involved… new people arriving on our land."

"I see." Papa nodded slowly. "You're right, of course. That could be construed as good or bad, depending on who these newcomers are."

"Yes. That's why I've been so distracted," I said softly. "I really don't know what it all means. I don't know who this stranger… I mean, who the strangers are. I just see them at the fence. But I know they aren't real. Not like regular outsiders."

"I think you're a powerful seer, Rosamund. Just like your mother." A distant look appeared in Papa's eyes. Then he returned his attention to me. "You could have come to me with this, my darling. You should have come to me."

"I know. But I wasn't sure what to say, because I've been so confused. The vision was so—" I closed my eyes, on the brink of spilling everything. Don't do it, a little voice chanted in the back of my mind. "So… confusing," I went on. I knew what I'd said was redundant, but Papa didn't seem to mind.

"I understand. Your mother's visions often confused her too. But you mustn't worry. You can tell me anything."

"I know. I will from now on, if I have any more visions."

He nodded, and this time, the smile that stretched his thin lips was genuine. "You'll feel more alert in an hour or so," he said, dipping his chin toward my teacup. He leaned forward and patted my hand. "Try not to get too distracted from now on. Try to remember your place. You're very important to everyone here. One of the most important women ever born. You've always known this."

"Yes, Papa."

He allowed me to leave the church, and I slowly headed down the main street, aiming for home. I'd planned to spend the rest of the day painting, like I always did on Sundays. It was my favorite hobby, and it was also a good way to clear my mind. I needed that clarity right now, because my head was still foggy from the tea. I almost felt like I was in a trance.

I blinked and came to an abrupt stop. I wasn't heading for home at all. Somehow, I'd walked halfway to my secret berry-picking spot without even realizing where I was going.

It must've been due to the tea. It was still affecting me, pushing the truth to the forefront of my mind until my body followed suit. And the truth was… I had to go back there. I couldn't stop thinking about the man I saw beyond the fence, whoever or whatever he was, and I was drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

I kept walking, eyes fixed on the woods ahead. The air was chilly today, but I barely registered it. My desire to see the skull-faced man was like kindling in my belly, stoking the new fire inside me and warming my body all the way from my head to my toes.

When I finally arrived back at the spot, the man wasn't there. Only thin air remained where he once stood. But something else was there now. Something that I instantly knew was a gift for me.

Lying against the fence was a single red rose.