27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

A lek Nightingale's manor was, as always, pristine. The midnight blue foyer and herringbone floors spread out around Emillie like a night sky and forest floor. After entering the home weeks prior to his ball, she now found it strange to consider the place to be her new home. Calling a manor other than the Harlow Estate anything of the sort did not sit well, yet she still found herself thankful to have escaped that particular nightmare.

At least now her father could no longer threaten her very existence for information about Ariadne. Information she would not give him even if she had it.

"Welcome, my Lady," said the butler at the door, who took her cloak. His pale skin stood out in contrast to the faintest markings of distant Caersan heritage on his jaw and his dark chestnut hair. "My name is Rene. May I be of any assistance as you settle in?"

Emillie glanced at Alek, who entered behind her and handed off his own cloak. The rain and thunder continued as the front door closed. "May I see my rooms?"

Something flickered in Alek's eyes before he gave Rene a small nod.

The butler smiled and gestured to the stairs. "Right this way, my Lady."

She had gone so long under the title of miss that Emillie did not respond right away. There had been many nights she dreamt of holding the title and many more in which she had written off the very prospects of it ever occurring. At least willingly.

After a moment of hesitation, Emillie followed Rene up the elegant staircase to the second floor, where he led her down a long corridor filled with portraits of the Nightingale family. She did not linger on any of them. There would be plenty of time to get familiar with each face and learn their names.

"Lord Nightingale's suite is just there," Rene said and pointed to the double doors at the end of the corridor. He stopped before another set of doors on the left side of the hall. "He requested we ready the Lady of the House's suite for your personal space. A bath has been drawn for you. Will you require your handmaid?"

Emillie's heart leapt. "My maid?"

"To assist you out of your gown." Rene's cheeks colored, but he did not balk. "And to prepare you for the Lord Governor."

As though she were a meal to be consumed. If she had any say in the matter, there would only be one who had the privilege of indulging in her…and it would not be Alek. Kind though he had been, she could not get her mind off Kyra.

Gods, they were under the same roof. Emillie wanted so badly to see her again. To learn everything there is to know about her—her life and body alike.

"Who is my handmaid?" She hoped the question sounded innocent enough, though the words rushed from her on a breath.

"My Lord hired someone new just for you," Rene explained as he opened her suite's doors. "By the name of Kyra. I will send her up."

"That will not be necessary." Alek's voice made Emillie jump. She turned to him, heart thundering now for an entirely new reason. "Leave us, Rene."

The butler did not so much as stammer a response. Rather, he tucked into a deep bow, then scurried away as fast as his feet could carry him without running. They were alone long before Emillie even had the thought to thank the Rusan or say her farewells.

"Come." Alek gestured to the doors to her rooms.

Emillie followed his suggestion and entered. The majority of the suite was one large room painted mauve. The sitting area lay just before the doors with plush dark gray linen couches arranged for entertaining near the hearth. A gold chandelier hung at the center, casting thin shadows on the walls. On a dais on the far side of the room sat an enormous canopied bed with charcoal drapes held back by gold ropes. Beyond swept a bay of windows, curtains already drawn.

The door closed behind her with a quiet click. Emillie turned to Alek, who surveyed the room with a neutral expression. He nodded to a door on the right side of the room and said, "The bathing room." He mimicked the motion to the left side. "The closet."

She turned to him, wringing her fingers together. "Thank you for this."

This . A separate room. Ariadne had spoken of how she and Azriel shared a suite. Likely, Alek's rooms were set up for multiple people as well. The Lady of the House's suite was, if she were to guess, for the Nightingale wives who were betrothed and wed without love.

"You are most welcome." Alek turned his simmering black eyes to her and raised a brow. "Our agreement includes an heir."

She fought back the urge to squirm. Yes, she had agreed to such things. Yes, she was prepared and willing to take him to bed to fulfill her duty as his wife. Would she be thinking of him as they consummated their marriage? Never.

"Would you like to try right away?" His tone was like a merchant's, ready to haggle for the best deals.

Pregnancy did not come easily for vampires. There was no sign of ovulation, which lasted several weeks, until after it had passed and the woman bled. Since her transition into her fully adult body, Emillie had undergone exactly three bleeds. For a Caersan woman to become pregnant, it was almost entirely luck. No one could guess when the next ovulation period would begin. In order to be successful, they would likely need to copulate at least once a month.

Once pregnant, a Caersan woman carried the baby for one year. Longer than a human woman, yet shorter than that of the fae. It often wreaked havoc on her body with the hormones that crashed through her like waves.

Emillie did not look forward to bearing a child, though she had always dreamed of being a mother. Since one could not have the latter without the former in their Society, she long since resigned herself to carrying the next generation.

"Alright," she said, her voice quiet. She knew what to expect when it came to sex with a man. If all went well, he could finish within mere minutes.

Alek's nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to study her. "On second thought…"

She frowned when he did not finish. "What is it?"

"Come to me when you are ready." Alek took a step back and opened the door again. "Enjoy your evening, Wife."

With that, he walked out, leaving the door open behind him. Emillie stared at the empty space left behind, perplexed by the sudden shift. It had not been what she expected him to say. She had fully anticipated moving forward with her decision and had steeled herself for what was to come. For him to leave so suddenly gave her pause. And doubt.

Then the reason for his sudden departure stepped into the doorway, and Emillie almost sank to her knees.

"Kyra?"

The Rusan woman was just as beautiful as she remembered. Her fiery red hair fell in curls around her shoulder, half of it tied up in a neat twist at the crown of her head. Those perfect dark eyes sparkled with delight, and her round face split into a wide grin, putting her dimples and fangs on full display in the chandelier's light. She wore a deep green gown that laced in the front, pushing her ample cleavage into full view. When she spoke, it was soft and enchanting as she said, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Emillie swallowed hard. "Nor I, you."

Kyra released a heavy breath and stepped closer. "I was afraid you'd have moved on by now. It's been weeks, and we hardly know one another. It was foolish of me. I'm a Rusan, and you—"

Before she could think too long on it, Emillie kissed her. Kyra sucked in a small, surprised gasp, then melted into it. Her fingers tucked into Emillie's hair at the nape and held her firm for a long moment.

When they broke apart, Emillie smiled. "If you have been foolish, then so have I."

She reached around Kyra, sliding one hand around her waist to keep her close, and closed the door. Clicking the lock into place, she turned her attention back to the woman in her arms. Stroking back a vibrant red curl, she searched her face and said, "I look forward to getting to know you better—in every way."

That wondrous smile returned. Kyra ran her lips along Emillie's jaw and whispered, "Do you need help, my Lady , to get out of this dress?"

"So long as you do not plan to prepare me for anyone but yourself." She wanted to get to know this woman, inside and out, in whatever way she could. Whether it be with their bodies or their speech, she did not care. What she did care about was the fire burning low in her belly, sparking through her with every one of this woman's touches.

Kyra laughed, a lovely loud sound, and took her hand. Together, they went to the bathing room, where Kyra spun Emillie around to face the large, steaming clawfoot tub and began unfastening the buttons along her spine with deft fingers. Her lips trailed down her path, tracing each piece of exposed skin so that when she reached Emillie's hips, she was on her knees.

The dress slipped from Emillie's shoulders and waist with a gentle tug from Kyra. Her underclothes were swept away with just as much dexterity. The latter's fingers slid up her inner thighs from behind, forcing her legs wider. A low hum of satisfaction told Emillie she liked what she saw—and damn if that did not make that heat in her core throb.

"Bend over," Kyra said with a husky voice. "Hold the tub."

Emillie hesitated. This was all very new to her, and though she wanted Kyra's hands on her in any way possible, she felt exposed.

"Come now, my Lady." Kyra kissed the back of her leg, then again on her hip. "I was sent here to take care of you, and I wish to do so to the very best of my ability. I've been dreaming of this for weeks."

With a soft release of a breath, Emillie did as she was told. She hinged at the hips and gripped the edge of the bathtub. What had Camilla and Ariadne said? It was like a kiss…

But, gods, it was better than a kiss. Kyra's hands slid up the back of her thighs and gripped Emillie's rear, gently at first, then with more force as her tongue flicked across her most intimate of places.

At first, she tensed, Kyra's name escaping her on a gasp. She gripped the porcelain harder.

"Shh, my Lady," Kyra whispered, her breath sliding across the wet crux of Emillie's legs. "Someone might think we were up to something untoward."

Emillie could not help but giggle. She looked back at Kyra and nearly moaned at the sight of her on her knees, watching her with those sparkling dark eyes. She kissed her slick sex again, then slipped her tongue across her bud. In an instant, Emillie's knees went weak from the pleasure.

Again and again, Kyra worked her mouth over Emillie, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony as she moaned. Her grip on the tub tightened as that heat mounted higher and higher with every passing second.

Soon, Emillie's arms began to give. Her legs wobbled, and she bent at the waist to look between her own thighs at where Kyra knelt, humming in delight as she indulged.

"You are divine," Kyra said before plunging her tongue between her folds and savoring each slow, sensual lick. She reached between Emillie's legs with one hand and drew her fingers over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Between the softness of her mouth and the firm circles of her fingers, Emillie felt her body wind tight. She moaned loud, the sound echoing in the bathroom, and for once, she did not care. If someone heard her, what would they say? There were enough rumors surrounding her new husband to hide anything the servants would say about her. For all they knew, she could be pleasuring herself.

She was certainly glad it was not on her own, however. Kyra knew what she was doing, and while Emillie once thought the notion would bother her, the fact that Kyra had searched for her, too, outweighed whatever the Rusan had done in the past. What were previous lovers but just that? Previous.

Now Emillie benefitted from Kyra's expert knowledge of how to pleasure a woman, and gods, she wanted this every single night.

As Kyra drew her tongue across Emillie's opening, her fingers still moving with firm precision, the pressure in her core mounted to unbearable heights. In an instant, Emillie's release crashed through her. She moaned loud and long and shifted her hips back to where Kyra knelt as though her body searched for more, more, more.

Emillie closed her eyes, panting from the explosive climax. "Gods, Kyra…"

Her lover laughed airily, sliding her hands around to grip her hips and pull them closer so she could nip at her rear. "We're just getting started, my Lady. Shall we take a bath?"

We . That was the word Emillie wanted to hear. She hummed her agreement as Kyra stood, and she turned to cup the beautiful woman's face, bringing their mouths together again. Lips tasting of her, it reignited her core to think that it was she who made such a magnificent person savor her so.

"I want to make you feel like that," Emillie said against her lips, her hands drifting over Kyra's luscious curves. "And I want you out of this damned dress."

Another lovely laugh, and together, they worked Kyra from her green dress. It puddled on the floor beside the ivory, and Emillie marveled at the smooth dips and swells of the woman's body. Large, round breasts and pink nipples, taut from their sudden exposure to the cool night air, were what Emillie cupped first with one hand. The other slid over her soft waist to cup her ample rear and bring her body in close so when they kissed again, tongues exploring one another, she could feel each wondrous part of her.

Kyra's moan as Emillie rolled her nipple between her fingers only stoked the fire rebuilding in her.

The water in the bath, still quite warm by the time they clambered in, embraced them as their hands still roamed one another's bodies. Emillie lowered herself in, guiding Kyra onto her lap. Kyra straddled her legs and rolled her hips, sending a jolt through Emillie.

"Kiss me everywhere," Kyra urged, her tongue tracing the shell of her ear. "I want to feel your lips on me."

Again, Emillie did as she was told. She kissed Kyra's neck and across her collarbone. One hand drifted between them in search of the Rusan's own pleasure spots. When Kyra groaned, hips rocking forward, she knew she had found what she searched for and stroked her fingers across the small bud.

As she worked the bundle of nerves, Emillie drew her lips down to Kyra's breasts, where she drew her tongue languidly over her nipple. Another moan that stoked the fire in her belly. She could live for that sound.

Pulling a nipple into her mouth, Emillie used her free hand to stimulate the other. Kyra's breath quickened, and she dug her fingers into Emillie's hair. The urgent grasp spurred her on, and she sucked harder.

"Put your fingers in me," Kyra pleaded.

Emillie slipped a finger between her folds, the water doing nothing to hide how wet she was on her own. She cursed under her breath and slid one, then two, into Kyra. Her sex was warm and soft. Again, Kyra groaned and rocked her hips so the heel of Emillie's hand rubbed at that perfect angle.

"Fuck," Kyra gasped. "Emillie, don't stop."

Moving from one breast to the other, she worked her lips over the tight tip. Kyra arched her back, pushing herself into Emillie's mouth, where she licked and swirled her tongue around her nipple. She kept her hand stroking her sex until she found that perfect place inside that she always used to send herself over the edge whenever she explored on her own.

Kyra cried out, thrusting until her climax had her sex gripping Emillie's fingers tight and hot. Her body tensed, and Emillie massaged her tongue over her nipple as she rode out the explosion to its finality.

"We are doing a terrible job at getting clean," Emillie said as she pulled her hand fingers and brought them to her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored the taste of Kyra on her skin.

"Then let us clean," Kyra said breathlessly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "We can continue this in the bed."

Emillie and Kyra did make it to the bed, but rather than continue their spree, they lay together, limbs entangled, and spoke of their lives. To her unending relief, Emillie discovered they had much in common. The more they talked, the more she found her attraction to not be limited to their primal actions.

Yes, Kyra was beautiful and sexy and so very talented with her mouth, and she was also an avid reader and loved to cook. Her favorite color was forest green—it looked best with her hair, she claimed—and she preferred fruit desserts over chocolate. She could travel in the daylight and enjoyed laying out in the sun, much to Emillie's envy, yet spent most of her time living by night because she enjoyed the liveliness of Laeton during those hours. Her evening at the Drifter's Inn and Bistro had been one of many.

When at last they agreed to settle in for the evening, Emillie found sleep evaded her. She thought of the woman beside her and how every action she had taken brought her to that moment. No matter the terrible times under her father's roof, she endured those nights to get to where she was now: with a woman that she could see herself falling in love with.

Still, Emillie would not have had this opportunity if not for the one person she once believed to be a heartless rake.

She untangled herself from Kyra's sleeping body and slipped from the bed. Pulling on a dressing gown, she crept from the room. In a few quick steps, she stood before Alek's door and knocked lightly. When there was no response, she pushed through to find an empty sitting room with charcoal-colored walls and a dying fire as the only light source.

"Alek?" she called, then bit her lip. What was she doing? He was likely asleep, as she should be at this hour. She could speak with him in the morning. Emillie shook her head and turned back to the door.

Then she heard a soft whimper of…pain?

Emillie's heart lurched into her throat. She looked around the room. "Hello?"

Another slightly louder cry. Yes. Pain. That was certainly pain. And it was coming from behind a closed door—Alek's bedroom.

Gods, she was going to be sick. Were the rumors true? He had sworn to her they had not been, and yet, as she stood there, she could not mistake the sounds. If he was hurting someone, it had to stop. She could not stand there and let what happened to her sister happen to another right here in Valenul.

Mustering every ounce of courage she had, Emillie forced her feet to move toward the helpless noises. It almost failed her upon laying her hand on the handle to his room. Alek's voice, low and indecipherable, emitted from beyond the door, accompanying the next gasp.

Heart thundering, Emillie shoved into the room.

A blindfolded Rusan woman hung against a wall, her wrists shackled above her head with blood dripping down from slashed wrists. She wore nothing but thin, lacy lingerie that did nothing to hide her body and, indeed, seemed to split between her legs, exposing her sex. She shook, the delicate chains rattling with each shudder.

"Gods!" Emillie covered her mouth as Alek turned to her, a small knife in his hand and wearing nothing but the trousers from their wedding.

"Emillie." His voice was low, as though speaking to a rabid animal.

Perhaps she was. She rushed forward and pushed his chest. "You told me it was a lie!"

How could she have married someone so foul? How had this man, someone she once considered a friend and more recently began to trust, been nothing but a wretched liar and sadist the entire time?

"You do not understand," Alek said, still speaking in his even tone. He dropped the knife to the floor and held both hands aloft as though in surrender. "Listen first. Please."

Emillie pulled the blindfold from the woman before demanding from him, "Where are the keys?"

The woman blinked in surprise, then her eyes widened. "My Lady!"

"Is this a servant?" Emillie's stomach churned, then refocused on the Rusan. A scan of her body did not reveal any more injuries. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My Lady," she said with a quick glance at Alek, "I'm so sorry, I didn't think—"

"This is not your fault." Emillie shook her head. "I will get you out of here."

Alek stepped forward, and this time, when he spoke, it was with more firmness. He took hold of her wrist. "Listen to me."

"Let go of me."

"Not until you stop."

"You are hurting her!" Emillie's eyes filled with tears. She did not see the Rusan before her. She saw Ariadne, chained and tortured at the hands of a monster, forever changed from the sister she had once been. If she could have stopped that pain, she would have. Emillie would not turn her back on someone else who needed help.

"My Lady," the woman said, her voice small, "I asked for this."

Emillie's mind whirled to a stop. Comprehension failed her as she looked at the woman. "You…asked…for this ?"

Color spread across her cheeks. "I like it."

Turning wide eyes on Alek, she could do nothing but gape.

"I told you I would show you one night," Alek said, still speaking with caution. "I told you the rumors were not entirely true. I do not torture or kill women for my entertainment."

"Then what is this?" Emillie took a step back, and he released his hold on her. "Forgive me. I am…trying to understand."

"This is exactly as we have said," Alek explained. "I enjoy…giving others pleasure. Some find their pleasure in pain. I would never do this to someone who has not first asked and consented."

Pleasure in pain. It was not a concept Emillie was familiar with. Pain had always been just that. Emillie stared at the woman. "This is pleasurable to you?"

The woman nodded. "I shouldn't have come tonight. It's your wedding; I should've assumed—"

"I do not want to have sex with him." The words left her before she could weigh them. Emillie bit her lip. She should not have said that aloud. Not in front of someone other than Alek or Kyra.

Alek understood her reasoning. This woman, however, was a stranger.

"Oh." She frowned lightly. "Still, I'll leave, my Lady. I meant no trouble."

"No, no." Emillie looked between them as everything clicked into place. "Wait. This is how you have sex?"

Alek nodded. "It is not for everyone, but I have found the combination to be quite thrilling."

He unlocked the woman's wrists, and she rubbed where they had been held and cut. The wounds were already closed, despite her Rusan lineage. She dipped her head and said, "My name is Siobhan. He hired me so I could stay close."

Emillie surveyed her with growing interest. It was certainly a lot to take in for one night. "I see. I suppose this is merely something I have never heard of before. You swear to me this was consensual?"

"Of course, my Lady." Siobhan's confusion only seemed to grow. "You…don't mind me in his bed?"

She raised her brows. "You were hardly in his bed."

"Well, sometimes, we—"

"The details are not necessary right now." Emillie held up a hand, then turned to Alek. "I am certain I will have plenty of questions later."

"I should have told you sooner," Alek said with a wince. "I thought you were…occupied today."

"I came to thank you, actually." Emillie almost laughed at the strangeness of it all. A weight lifted from her chest as she realized just how much more intriguing their companionship had become. One found pleasure in women while the other found it in pain. "Thank you for all you have done for me. For Kyra."

Alek gaped for a moment, then inclined his head. "Anything for you."

She turned to leave but paused and pivoted again. "Alek."

"Yes?" He had not moved an inch, still staring at her as though she would attack at any moment.

"If you ever want me to bear your children," Emillie said and looked around the room, "then you will be sure this room is clean when I come to your bed. It is only fair to me…and to Siobhan. To whomever you have in here."

To her surprise, Alek laughed and nodded. "Of course."

"Good day, then." Emillie turned to the Rusan woman. "And to you, Siobhan."

"My Lady." She sketched a bow.

As Emillie made her way back to her suite, she could not help but think of how this day had turned out very differently from what she had anticipated. Not only did she expect to consummate her marriage with Alek, but the last thing she imagined happening was finding Kyra so head over heels for her, too.