1. Josephine

CHAPTER ONE

JOSEPHINE

T he lace hung like a delicate spiderweb, shimmering under the dim light of the flickering candles. I smoothed the dress over my hips and basked in the anticipation of it all—new beginnings, love, and the promise of forever.

This was it. The day I'd dreamed of since I was a little girl playing dress-up in my mother's pearls.

Well, not quite. But that was the nature of an elopement. The intimacy of the moment required some sacrifice, Alain had convinced me. A fancy party in a ballroom with hundreds of strangers surrounding us would only detract from what really mattered... each other.

He'd smiled at me as he said that, his hand tenderly stroking my cheek, and my objections dried up in an instant. Those dimples were just the cherry on top of Alain Braithwaite. He was everything any sane woman ever wanted in her man: wealthy, handsome, charismatic. He treated me like a treasure to cherish.

A knock sounded at the door to my dressing room. "Jo? You decent?"

"Alain!" I turned from the antique mirror, mock scandalized. "You can't see me yet. It's bad luck."

His rich laughter drifted through the heavy wood. "Come on, love. Since when are you superstitious?"

Since never, truthfully. But we were marrying in a manor old enough to have a name and history and grounds . The stones of Graywick Hall had witnessed things over the centuries that were beyond my imagining. Leaning into tradition seemed appropriate.

"Shoo!" I retorted with a grin. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Hurry up, then. I'm dying to make you Mrs. Braithwaite."

The door clicked shut. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, willing the heat to subside. This was really happening. Eloping was crazy. Wild. A far cry from the safe, predictable life I'd always led.

No more. Today was about living life to its fullest.

I took one last look in the mirror, grabbed my bouquet, and stepped into the hallway. Alain stood waiting, devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit.

"How do I look?" I swirled, the fabric twirling around me.

"Like a treat, Jo." He stepped closer, brushing a finger down the plunging neckline of my gown. "Absolutely delicious."

I fought the urge to squirm. I wanted to be beautiful for him, but the dresses he suggested all revealed more than I typically preferred. But it was just us, I told myself. Why should it matter how much cleavage was showing?

Alain offered his arm and gestured toward a closed door. "Ready to face forever?"

That smile. Those dimples. Any lingering discomfort rolled right off my shoulders. "Always."

We began our descent down the grand staircase. Graywick Hall was breathtaking, all dark wood and gleaming marble. Elegant oil paintings hung on the walls, ancient eyes looking down at us. The ceilings soared overhead, every surface filled with ornate flourishes. Even the air smelled ancient here—rich soil, smoky fireplaces, and the earthy aroma of damp leaves.

He guided me through a pair of French doors and into the garden. It was as gorgeous as the rest of the manor, all manicured hedges and wrought iron fences. Rose petals carpeted the winding path leading toward our ceremony site. In the distance, an old fountain burbled, the sound oddly muffled.

"You've outdone yourself with this place," I murmured, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Only the best for my intended." Alain's fingers tightened on mine.

We rounded the corner, and my steps faltered. I didn't understand what I was seeing. We were eloping. With no one else. No witnesses. Just us, and the officiant.

"What's this?" I took a step back, instinctively clutching my bouquet tighter.

Dozens of men turned expectantly, all of them in identical suits.

"Surprise, love." Alain snaked an arm around my waist and tugged me close. "I couldn't do this without my family."

The whisper of his breath against my ear usually sent a thrill straight to my belly; this felt like an invasion of my space.

"Your family?" I scanned the unfamiliar faces that had assembled in the garden, all wearing identical smiles. My confusion only seemed to amuse them further. "I thought?—"

"They're all here for you, Jo," Alain cut in smoothly. "Everything's going to be perfect. Trust me."

Trust him? Hadn't he been insisting it was just us? How could he do this behind my back? With no one from my side? I blinked back tears as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

"There she is," someone crooned. A middle-aged man with ice blond hair pulled me into a suffocating embrace. The smell of lilacs filled my nostrils. "It's so good to meet you. Alain has told us absolutely nothing about you. I don't even know your name!"

What the fuck? I darted a look to Alain. His gentle smile morphed into something sharper and his eyes flashing with predatory delight.

The middle-aged man released me and stepped back, but was instantly replaced by another. A hand tightened around my wrist and dragged me forward. My bouquet fell to the ground, petals scattering like the last fragments of my composure.

"Let go of me!" I yanked hard, desperate to get away, but the grip was unbreakable. "Alain, make them stop!"

He didn't even look my way. My soon-to-be husband—the man I thought I knew—barked orders like a general commanding troops. The group swarmed around me, pressing in from all sides, their fingers pinching into my skin, pawing at my clothes.

"What are you doing?" Panic clawed up my throat. "Stop!"

They didn't listen. Didn't care. My heels dug furrows in the damp earth as they dragged me toward a massive stone slab in the center of the garden. Vines twisted around the base, the leaves all streaked with red.

An altar.

This wasn't happening. Couldn't be happening.

My back hit the cold stone. Hands pinned my wrists and ankles. The lace of my dress tore as I thrashed.

"Alain!" Tears streamed down my face. "Help me!"

He loomed over me, eyes bright with a fervor I'd never seen before. "Hush, Jo. This is for the good of us all."

The group formed a circle around us as Latin filled the air. The chanting started low, a whisper of dried leaves crackling in the wind. Swelling, swelling, swelling into a thunderous chorus.

My chest heaved as I fought for breath. Between the swaying bodies. I spotted a figure following the same path I'd taken with Alain, cradling an ornate box made of dark wood, a blood red jewel sitting in the center. The chanting reached a crescendo as another member reverently opened the lid.

Alain reached inside and withdrew a blade as long as my forearm. The metal gleamed wickedly in the dying light.

"No," I whimpered. "Please, no."

"We are gathered here today," Alain's voice rang out, "to bind this woman in unholy matrimony."

Tears streamed down my face. I squeezed my eyes closed and willed myself to wake. It was a nightmare. A hallucination. Anything but real.

"Do you, Josephine Clark, take our patron to be your master and lord?"

The knife grazed down my throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

"To have and to hold, to serve and to suffer, from this day forward as death parts you from your mortal shell?"

"Fuck you," I snarled.

He tsked. "Such language from a blushing bride. No matter. I'll speak for you."

The point of the knife rested above my heart. The chanting reached a fevered pitch. My heartbeat stuttered under the pressure of the blade.

"Who gives this woman to be married to our dark lord?" Alain intoned.

The silver-haired man stepped forward. "We do, faithful servants of Clauneck."

The air crackled with electricity. The hair on my arms stood on end. Even the garden itself seemed frozen in the moment before taking a breath.

"With this offering, we dedicate our newest bride to you, oh great Clauneck." Alain raised the dagger high. "Accept our sacrifice and grant us your favor!"

The blade plummeted toward my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut?—

Thunder cracked. Wind howled. My eyes flew open as screams erupted around me.

Shadows writhed at the feet of Alain and his alleged family, coiling around ankles like snakes. Men—monsters—stumbled back, shouting incantations that did nothing.

Not that I cared. It was a relief to see my would-be groom lose his shit.

The shadows slithered up his body, caressing him intimately. His grip on the knife faltered.

"Now, now." A voice like crushed velvet cut through the chaos. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"

The new arrival stepped from a swirling vortex of darkness. He wore a perfectly tailored suit. Hair as black as midnight emphasized the sharpness of his jaw. A devious smirk curled the corners of his mouth as he swept a look over the panicked assembly. But those eyes...

Green flames roared in place of his eyes.

"Quite the little shindig you've got going." He flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel. "I'm hurt I wasn't invited."

Alain's face had gone ashen. "You're not—this isn't?—"

"The demon you were expecting?" The stranger's laugh was equal parts amused and dangerous. "No. I'm afraid Clauneck couldn't make it. Consider me his... proxy."

With a flick of his wrist, the hands holding me down wrenched back in a cacophony of snaps. I scrambled to sit up, heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.

Those hellfire eyes flitted to me and something in my gut tugged tight.

He was beside me in an instant, faster than should be possible. Up close, I could see glowing symbols etched into his skin, the same bright shade of green as his eyes. My breath caught as one muscular arm slid beneath my knees, the other supporting my back.

Alain lunged forward. "No! She's ours?—"

The flames in my rescuer's eyes flared large, and Alain went flying backward.

"Close your eyes, little dove," he murmured.

I obeyed without thinking. His lips crashed against mine, hungry and demanding.

Then we were falling. Flying. Tumbling through an abyss.

And there was nothing but darkness.