CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It had been two days since I'd seen Alexander. Two long, silent, agonizing days.

At first, I thought it was simply a brief separation after everything that had happened with Nicolette. I told myself he was busy, caught up in something that required his full attention, but that didn't stop the gnawing sense that something was off. Alexander's work was never-ending, but he always made time for me. The moments we shared, however fleeting, had become the foundation of my new reality.

So where was he now?

It was clear this was something more.

The flowers in my room hadn't been exchanged since he left. They were already beginning to wilt at a rapid pace, petals falling, their once vibrant color draining. Alexander had been the one to personally swap them out each morning. It was always him. He liked to do it himself, insisting that no one else could choose the perfect bloom. I had grown accustomed to the subtle routine of waking up to fresh flowers, knowing they were placed by his hand. But now, nothing.

I wandered the halls, looking for some trace of him. The house felt eerily still. No distant murmur of his voice, no sign of the life he breathed into these walls. I searched for something—anything that would tell me where he had gone, but every room felt as empty as the last. No notes, no whispered promises. Just silence.

By the third night, I found myself on the rear deck, staring out at the lake.

The water stretched out before me, calm but dark, as if it, too, was holding onto some unspoken secret. I looked across to the lighthouse, its rotating beam cutting through the night in steady intervals.

Did he think I was going to run away that day?

The thought haunted me as I stood there, the cool night air brushing against my skin. Was this his way of testing me? Had he seen something in me during that chaotic day—something that made him question my loyalty? I could still feel the weight of his absence, an ache that settled deep inside me. He had become everything. I didn't even realize how much until now. The longer he was gone, the more I craved him, needed him, and without him, the emptiness gnawed at me. It was unsettling how quickly he'd consumed my world, how deeply his presence had rooted itself inside me.

I glanced back at the house, expecting him to appear, but all I saw was the warm lights through the windows. It was late, and still no sign of him.

Has he been watching?

I didn't want to admit it, but I was beginning to lose track of what was real and what was just in my head. As I stood on the deck, I thought I heard his voice again. I had conjured his voice so many times over the past few days. He was all I could think about. Him and this baby. The hairs on my neck stood on end as I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind me, deliberate and familiar. Slowly, I turned around, my heart racing as my eyes locked on him.

He stood there, just a few feet away, his posture relaxed, his gaze burning through me. The air around him felt heavy, thick with tension.

"You're… you're here," I stammered, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

He tilted his head, a small, calculated smile forming on his lips. "Didn't I promise you I'd come back?"

His voice was smooth, almost soothing, but it was laced with something darker. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts straight. "You did," I whispered.

He took a step closer, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. His proximity sent a familiar thrill through my body, but beneath that, there was an undeniable fear. His presence was overwhelming, as it always was, but now it felt… colder.

"You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, almost a caress.

I nodded; my throat tight. "I… I didn't know where you were."

"I know," he said, his tone softening as he reached out, his fingers trailing along the side of my face. The touch was almost tender, but there was a possessiveness in it, a reminder that I was his. "You've been lost without me, haven't you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The truth was too raw, too vulnerable. I had been lost. Without him, everything that grounded me here had unraveled, and he knew it.

"You think I left you because you did something wrong?" he continued, his thumb brushing over my lips as if testing the weight of my silence.

I blinked up at him, struggling to breathe, to find my voice. "I—" My words faltered as his touch became more insistent.

"But you were good," he continued his breath warm against my skin as he leaned closer. "Weren't you, my pet? You stayed here, waiting for me."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. His approval, even now, was like a lifeline.

"You proved something to me," he said, his voice growing darker. "You showed me exactly where you belong."

His hand dropped to my neck, fingers curling around my throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who held the power. "Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "You'll prove it to everyone. Our Rite will be tomorrow evening."

The finality of his words washed over me. The Rite. Our binding. There would be no turning back. I wasn't ready—I didn't know if I ever would be—but he was giving me no choice. He was laying the path, and I was expected to follow.

I started, my voice shaking as panic rose in my chest. "I thought—."

"You thought what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. There was no warmth in his gaze, only cold command. "That you could run? That you could leave?" He smiled, but it was more sinister than comforting. "You know better than that."

I swallowed hard, unable to speak as his grip tightened enough to remind me of my place.

"Tomorrow," he said again, his voice soft but unyielding, "you'll show me, Lolita. You'll show me that you belong here—with me, forever."

The words twisted around my heart. I nodded slowly, even though I could barely breathe under the weight of them. "I will," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was both a promise and surrender.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against my forehead in a kiss that felt more like a brand.

The gentleness of it was a cruel contrast to the knot of fear and confusion tightening in my chest. He stepped back, and in that instant, I felt it—the hollow space where his warmth had been, the yawning chasm of emptiness that grew with every step he took away from me.

"I only came to tell you that," he added, his tone dismissive, already detached. Already gone.

"Wait!" The word tumbled from my lips. I reached out, grabbing his arm, clutching it like a lifeline. I couldn't bear it—him leaving me again. Not after the silence, not after the ache of his absence had almost swallowed me whole.

He paused and looked down at my fingers clutching his sleeve, desperation clinging to my every breath. Slowly, deliberately, he pried my hand from his arm, each movement calculated, a reminder of the control he wielded over me.

"Didn't I say I'd come back to you?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous. "Don't doubt me, Lolita. Not when I've given you everything."

His words, cutting and cruel, ripped through me. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, and I tried to blink them away, but they fell anyway, silent and unnoticed.

My chest tightened with fear, with the unbearable truth I couldn't escape—I didn't want to be without him. I didn't want to be alone, to be left in this limbo of waiting and wanting. How could I have let him pull me into this? How could I need him this much?

"Tomorrow," he repeated, softer, as if the word could soothe the ache.

It only made the emptiness grow, the sense of abandonment cutting deeper. Before I could speak, before I could beg him to stay, he leaned in, his lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and devastatingly cold.

There was no warmth in it, only a finality that broke something inside me. When he pulled away, the air seemed colder still, the emptiness around me echoing louder. Without another word, he turned, disappearing from my sight. I watched, helpless, the frigid air rushing in to fill the space he left behind.

And I was alone again.

I stood there, my hands trembling, the tears now flowing freely, feeling like the most pathetic version of myself. How had I come to this? How had I let him do this to me—make me need him so deeply, so violently. I didn't even recognize the girl I had become, the girl who was so desperate for his approval, for his touch. The girl who would let him walk away, even as she shattered under the weight of his absence.

If this was how I felt after only two days without him, how had I ever imagined a life where he wasn't there?

Tomorrow, I would show him that I was his, that I could never leave. But tonight... tonight, I was left to crumble, to fall apart in the hollow space he'd left behind.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind raced, thoughts of Alexander swirling like a storm I couldn't escape. The house was too quiet, too still. I needed him. Needed to feel his presence. I tossed and turned, trying to will sleep to come, but the emptiness in the bed beside me was impossible to ignore.

Then Verity appeared, her soft voice breaking the silence as she brought me a drink.

She set it down on the nightstand, her eyes full of understanding, as if she knew exactly what I was feeling. "From Alexander," she whispered. I took the drink without hesitation.

Whatever it was, I trusted that he wouldn't give me anything to harm the baby—the baby I hadn't even told him about yet.

He had to know, didn't he? There was no way he couldn't. I drank it slowly, feeling the warmth of the liquid spread through my body. It didn't take long before I began to drift, the exhaustion finally pulling me under.

But the dreams that followed were anything but restful.

The chapel loomed around me, its gothic arches casting long shadows over the stone floor. At the far end of the room stood the massive statue of the Devil, dark and imposing, watching over everything with his cold, unfeeling eyes.

At his feet knelt the weeping woman, her face hidden in her hands, her sobs echoing through the stillness. Then, as if the dream were alive, the scene shifted. It wasn't the statue anymore—it was Alexander, his figure dark and powerful as he stood before me.

I wasn't just standing in the chapel. I was laid out on an altar, my body draped in dark, flowing fabric, vulnerable and exposed beneath the flickering light of candles that surrounded us. I could feel him watching me, his gaze searing into my skin like fire. He moved closer, the intensity in his eyes leaving no doubt about his intentions. He was going to claim me, here, in front of the entire Isle. There was no shame, no hesitation—just the overwhelming certainty that I was his, and he was mine. His touch was possessive, worshipful, like I was some dark offering laid at his feet.

The weeping woman had morphed into me, and I knew, without a doubt, that I would never escape him. Not that I wanted to. This was my place. This was where I belonged.

I woke with a start, my heart racing, the remnants of the dream still clinging to me like a dark cloud. There was an ache between my legs, a soreness so real it made me wince.

It was as though Alexander had been there, his presence lingering in the air, his scent still on my skin. I could almost feel the weight of him, his hands on me, his breath against my neck, but when I looked around, the room was empty. The absence was too much to bear. I felt the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over. I swallowed them back, refusing to break down. Not today.

Today, I had to be strong.

The sun was shining now, spilling through the curtains, and casting a golden glow across the room. The lake shimmered in the distance, its calm surface a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. Somehow, it brought me peace, as if the Isle itself was blessing what was to come. I pulled myself from the silken sheets and rose from the bed. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but there was an undeniable weight in the air.

After washing up and throwing on a simple robe, I wandered the halls, unsure of what else to do with myself. The house was quiet, eerily so, and my footsteps echoed through the empty corridors. The silence reminded me of those early days in this place, where everything felt like a trap, and I was waiting for the next turn.

I ended up on the rear deck again, staring out at the lake as the morning sun made it shimmer. I placed my hand over my flat belly, now even more convinced that Alexander had to know. He always knew everything. Still, I hadn't told him. I hadn't had the chance. My feelings about the baby were a tangled mess of fear, uncertainty, and something deeper that I couldn't quite put into words.

The thought of becoming a mother, of carrying Alexander's child, made me feel vulnerable in ways I hadn't expected. This baby was the natural extension of everything between us, of the life I'd fallen into on the Isle, whether I'd chosen it or not but had come to accept. There was a warmth that I couldn't deny. The idea of a tiny life growing inside me—half mine, half Alexander's—brought a strange kind of joy. I found myself wondering what they would look like.

Admittedly I was scared too, more scared than I'd ever been but I also felt an overwhelming need to protect this baby, to keep them safe. I knew the Isle and its natives would help do the same. This child would belong to the them, just as much as they belonged to me and Alexander. There was no escaping that. As I stood on the deck, staring out at the calm lake, I realized something I hadn't expected—despite all the fear and uncertainty, a part of me already loved this baby. It was quiet, but it was there, stirring something deep inside me.

I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn't turn around right away. Then Esther's voice called my name. I turned, seeing her along with Adelita, Beatrice, Keres, and Pandora.

Their servitors too. The sight took me aback. Each of them wore an expression of quiet determination.

"You need to start getting ready," Esther said, leaving no room for debate.

"Now?" I blinked, glancing at the early morning sky. My Rite wasn't for hours. The ceremonies here never happened during daylight. I hadn't expected this—not so soon. Part of me had hoped for more time to collect myself, to prepare mentally for what was coming. It seemed I had little say in the matter.

Verity appeared behind them, carrying a tray of tea and small pastries, her silent presence always calming me. She gave me a small, encouraging nod, and I allowed myself to be guided back inside.

The air was charged with anticipation as we headed to the suite where preparations were already underway. The hours passed in a blur of motion. My hair was twisted and pinned into an intricate design that felt both elegant and otherworldly. Makeup was applied with the precision of an artist painting a masterpiece, and all the while, my thoughts drifted.

Time continued to slip by unnoticed as they helped me into my gown—a dress that was a masterpiece of black lace and crimson veils, flowing down like a river of blood. The fabric hugged my form, intricate and dark, as though it had been made for me alone. I soon found out it had been. Alexander's mother had helped. I realized I hadn't had a hand in any of the preparations for this union, but it didn't matter.

The dress was perfect.

Keres placed the elaborate headpiece on my head, the black roses and spikes creating a dark halo above me. Lastly, Adelita approached with a necklace—a red jeweled pendant that seemed to pulse in the light.

"This belonged to me," she said, fastening it around my neck. "Now, it's yours."

I touched the cool stone, feeling the weight of the moment. This wasn't just about me and Alexander. Her expression was soft as she took my hand. "Thank you for choosing my son," she said quietly. "I know it wasn't an easy choice to make."

I looked up at her, my eyes drawn to the scar she still tried to hide beneath her hair. It was a mark of what she had endured, a reminder of the sacrifices that came with living on this Isle.

Her words were so simple, yet they held so much weight. I looked at her, at the scar that still marred her forehead—the same mark that had been burned into my back. Whatever she had gone through it had been worse than what I experienced. I knew that instinctively, but there was a strength in her, a resilience that I admired.

"I didn't really have a choice," I murmured, but the words lacked the bitterness they might have once held.

It was true that my path had been set for me in many ways, but I had still chosen to follow it, hadn't I? I hesitated before asking, "Are you happy, Aunt Adelita?"

There was a brief pause, a heavy silence that hung between us. The other women busied themselves with their own preparations, pretending not to listen. Aunt Beatrice sent me a warm, encouraging smile.

Hearing the title had Aunt Adelita's eyes filling with immediate tears, but she didn't shy away from my question. Instead, she gave me a knowing, bittersweet smile. "It was hard. Some days it still is, but I could never regret my babies. I think the Isle knew I needed them," She paused, sharing a glance with Esther, who offered a soft, supportive smile. "Or the man I am bound to. Draven is... both my nightmare and my perfect fairytale."

Her words struck something deep within me. The parallel was undeniable.

Though, unlike her, I couldn't say Alexander was my nightmare. He was more like a dark, inescapable dream—one I didn't mind being trapped in. The darkness that surrounded him was familiar now, almost comforting in its own way.

"My sister would be happy to know you're so full of life, beautiful, safe and you have a family that now," Aunt Adelita added, her smile warmer now, as if the very thought brought her a sense of peace. She reached out, pulling me into a gentle hug. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about that later. A lifetime almost to talk about everything."

Her words settled in my chest like a promise, and I found myself smiling despite the weight of everything. This place had a way of consuming you, of turning every moment into something darkly significant.

In the midst of it all, there was a thread that was tied to these women, and what I had become part of.

Night had begun to fall as the final preparations were completed. The women, dressed in dark, elegant gowns, fitting for the gravity of the occasion, gathered around me. Each one carried a sense of purpose, of knowing what was to come, and it gave me a strange sense of calm.

Together, we left the room, moving in unison through the grand halls of the estate, the sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone floors. My heart raced, but there was a quiet resolve within me. As we made our way toward the Chapel where the Rite would take place, I couldn't help but think that this moment, this night, was inevitable. It was as if the Isle had known all along that I would end up here,