20. Scarlett

CHAPTER 20

SCARLETT

It's been three days since the fête, but it feels like three years.

My betrothed has been doting on me, but today he's been out of the house, leaving me far too much time to think about things.

To rethink things. And then I found the letter on my desk, penned in my mother's writing.

I'm still sitting at my vanity just staring at it well after the sun has set. The correspondence should give me relief, considering it's the first letter I've received since my courtship began, but all I can do is read it over and over again, looking for something that isn't there.

Dear Scarlett,

I'm so proud of you. I know it isn't easy to navigate the trepidations of a family like the Rinholds, but I have heard nothing but news of your grace, dignity, and elegance amidst the tides of scandal and intrigue.

This is what it means to be a Duchess, Scarlett. You aren't one yet, but it's as if you've slid right into the role most suited for you.

Maybe life looks foreign to you now. Especially since I know that you had planned on running a small settlement once the population of Nightingale Village had grown enough to support branching out, but I don't truly believe that was ever a realistic option. It was a dream I had hoped would come true for you. After my illness, I only brought this family down, and for that, I deeply mourn the cost of my life and the burden it has placed on your delicate shoulders.

Because you're the one holding this family up now, Scarlett. My beautiful, dear daughter.

As you know, the Nightingale Selection is tonight. Your father has high hopes that there is one selection in particular who will attract a powerful monster mate and earn our family direly needed points. I do hope you can watch the broadcast with me. I have already invited Earl Rinhold, and the Duke and Duchess as well.

Please don't forget to bring more of that fragrance you found for me. I've almost run out of mine.

In Cain's name,

Eveline Nightingale

It's not uncommon for my mother to talk about fragrances or frivolous things at the end of her letter. But I know she's not talking about perfume.

She needs more anti-aging tonic.

It's only been a matter of days. How could she be almost out already? I wonder as I fold the letter and slide it into a drawer.

To go through it so quickly means she's most assuredly reliant on it. Not getting her more could even kill her if she's used so much.

What am I going to do?

Looking up, I stare at myself in the vanity mirror of my room. I half expect wrinkles to form on my face or gray hairs to sprout amidst the bright red strands.

I look perfect, unfortunately. The damned magic tonics in the Rinhold household work every time.

I'm a little over tonics right about now.

Reaching out, I press one of the tabs on the wall that'll summon Julie or Beatrix. I'm hoping for Julie, but the older woman appears at my door a moment later.

"You called, my lady?" she asks but doesn't hide her perusal that's accompanied by a frown. "You're far too tense, Lady Scarlett. Keep your spine like that and it's liable to snap."

She's right. Which is exactly why I called for her in the first place. "I need a bath, Beatrix."

Bracing myself for her protest, I'm surprised when she slides inside and shuts the door behind her. "Finally. I was wondering how long you were going to pretend to be so comfortable with all this frivolous use of magic tonics," she says as she marches toward the parlor. "I could buy dinner for the entire sector every night until I leave this dark world with the amount of tonics used by some Elites."

I chuckle at her frankness. "So you're not a fan of them?" I hedge. She had previously admitted that Duchess Rinhold doesn't share her anti-aging tonics with her staff. So for the rumor to have circulated that a tonic had been used for such scandalous purposes inside her own house had definitely put a damper on this year's festivities.

But that was precisely the source of my stress, now with the addition of my mother's predicament.

My mother seems to think I've handled the scandal well. I saw Edward that night. He was shaken, but there wasn't evidence of a mask that one would wear when lying. He has to be telling me the truth.

Which means that the fires of jealousy I've ignited in this sector can cause very real danger. If one of my rivals was willing to go so far as to magically compel Edward into leaving me, what kind of enemies am I making just by being here?

Beatrix seems to like me, at least. She gives me a wry smile full of wrinkles as she gathers up towels and a robe. "I'm not a fan of magic when it makes everyone act insane."

I doubt that magic is really to blame when it comes to the games Elites play. Living this life and trying to stay ahead is enough to make anyone go mad.

I'm feeling a bit manic myself, so when Beatrix asks me how I want my bath, I breathe out an honest answer. "Hot. Steaming, piping hot so that I can steep in it until I emerge as a wrinkled prune."

She awards me with a bubbling laugh as she carries a bucket and begins filling up the claw-foot tub. I know that there is a magic tonic that would fill it in the blink of an eye, but I quietly help by grabbing another bucket.

She doesn't try to stop me. Beatrix and I have fallen into an understanding of one another. I feel better when I can do something. I hate just sitting around.

In no time at all, the tub is filled with steaming water that looks positively sinful. My skin itches for me to remove my clothing and plunge into it.

I realize, though, that I have yet to examine my blood contract marks.

And after encountering Cain himself, I'm apprehensive of what sort of nightmares that might spur to life in my mind. His blood is infused in my skin, which explains my strange dreams.

I've avoided them for the past few nights, but it feels akin to putting a lid atop a boiling kettle.

I might just explode if I bottle everything up for much longer.

Which, honestly, was another reason I had in mind for a bath. I need a moment of solitude to… take care of things.

"Thank you, Beatrix," I say in lieu of a dismissal. When I give her a low nod, she drops the towel and the fluffy robe onto a stool.

"At least let me unbind your corset, dear," she says with a stern look.

I sigh, then turn my back to her.

She slowly undoes the threads, then leaves my corset open at my back. She lingers there for a while, then clears her throat. "Please ring for me if you need me for anything further, my lady."

I nod but don't turn around.

Because I'm embarrassed. I can't imagine what my marks must look like, or how someone like Beatrix might judge me for accepting this courtship.

"We always have a choice, Scarlett."

Those had been Cain's words that still rattle around in my mind. Why he had chosen to dance with me and pull me into his realm of nightmares on the Rinhold ballroom floor is lost on me.

He was probably trying to frighten me and make sure I understood the gravity of my situation.

Pick on someone your own size, Cain, I think as I peel away my clothes.

I stand up against a long mirror and run my finger over the mark just above my navel.

I hadn't imagined it.

Twisting, I try to see my remaining marks that run up my spine. Unable to see from that particular angle, I grab a hand mirror and peer at the reflection.

The sight makes my eyes go wide.

Slashes run all the way up my spine, but they aren't straight lines. They look like sets of jagged claw marks.

Like a hand had raked down my back multiple times.

Frowning, I put down the hand mirror and collect some oils, then dump them into the tub. The scent of peaches marinates the room, making me relax.

Finally, I grab the sides of the tub and climb in. The sides are high, allowing the volume to be substantial enough to submerge me.

"Oh, yes," I breathe as I pinch my nose, then dunk my entire head underwater.

My world grows smaller as the roar of the water rushes over my ears. I stay there for a moment and look up through the water at the ceiling. My view is broken as I try to make out the designs on the ornate tiles.

Then things begin to change.

Smoky black tendrils snake over the swirling designs, and I squint to see if I'm imagining things.

Everything alters, and the shimmer of the water makes it look like I'm peering through a melting pane of glass.

What is this?

Unease winds through my stomach, and I decide I've been underwater long enough.

I try to get up.

I can't.

Panic strangles my chest as a strange sort of paralysis takes over. Ice frosts over the water as it slowly goes solid. My body freezes, and I can't move a single muscle.

My lungs scream.

I can't move.

What… What's happening?

I'm not sure how long I'm stuck that way, but just before I black out, hands dive into the water and grab hold of me, yanking me free of the ice that instantly vanishes.

A racking cough sputters in my throat as I wheeze in a lungful of blessed air.

The hands that saved me are gone, but a man is standing there now.

After handling a coughing fit, it takes me a moment to register that my savior is my suitor.

Who is now in my bath parlor.

Staring at my naked body.

I cover myself with my hands as best I can, but there's plenty of light for him to see everything. But he doesn't appear to be gawking at me. Rather, he's wearing a very concerned expression as his chest heaves. He's fully clothed, donning what had been a frilly dress shirt and pants with trendy blue stripes along the sides that are now wet and plastered to his muscular form.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks as he searches my face, although I'm not sure what he's looking for.

The last shred of my sanity, perhaps? Because there isn't any ice. There aren't any smoky tendrils rolling through the ceiling.

Whatever I just saw had been one of my night terrors, and I almost died because of it.

Sinking deeper into the water, I wish I had drowned so I didn't have to suffer this humiliation. "I'm fine, Edward. You can leave now." I glance at the quiet entryway. "Although, I'm not even sure why you're here." My gaze flicks back to him as I wait for an answer.

He told me he could only enter my room by invitation. I don't recall having invited him.

Even if he did save my life from whatever weird bath paralysis I had just suffered, he can't just expect to walk into my room whenever he feels like it.

He pulls a letter from his pocket, which is now hopelessly soaked, but I can barely discern my mother's handwriting on the outside.

He came to ask me about my mother's invitation. Of course.

Sighing, I thump my forehead on the edge of the tub. "I'm sorry, Edward. I'm fine, really. And thoroughly humiliated, so if you please?—"

I freeze when I hear the wet letter drop to the floor. Then his fingers are brushing my nape, followed by his palm. The raised mark of the S on his hand reminds me what we are to each other.

The instant his mark hits one of mine, electricity shoots straight through my body, settling between my legs. "I've never seen courtship marks before," he murmurs with a concerned tone. "Still, this doesn't look normal, Scarlett. Does it hurt?"

No? Yes?

How do I explain to him that just touching me there has desire surging through my body?

Heat builds between my thighs, and the flash of my figment growling inside my head has me whimpering.

Edward must misread my reaction, because he hauls me out of the bath and plasters my wet body against his.

"I'll call a doctor immediately," he begins, but I cling to him.

"Don't go," I say into his wet shirt. I don't dare look up or seal my humiliation with any further acts of insanity.

But I also know he can't leave me like this. I'll fall into my nightmares, and I might never come out.

Maybe that's why I almost drowned.

Whatever darkness lives inside of me has been gradually awakening ever since this mess began. I'm not ready for it. I feel like I'm slowly losing myself and in danger of imploding if I don't do something about it.

Tears sting my eyes as Edward pinches my chin and makes me look up at him.

I don't see any nefarious intention there. He isn't the man that Lady Eleanor told everyone he was. I'm sure there's more to the story than the scandal I've heard, but I can't find a fracture in Edward's face to refute it.

He's a complete gentleman. If he weren't, I would be able to see his truth behind the mask.

He's not even wearing one, which makes me feel safer than I ever have before.

"What else is Cain's blood doing to you?" he asks, surprising me.

I knew it was Cain's blood in my contract only because Cain himself had told me. I hadn't expected Edward to admit its origins. Information is power, and men like Earl Rinhold aren't known for freely giving up their power.

But maybe he's not Earl Rinhold at all.

He's just… Edward. At least with me.

"Why did you use Cain's blood?" I ask, purposefully not answering his question.

Because the truth is that it's making me want to speed our courtship along.

It's making me want to do everything I probably shouldn't before I'm officially Lady Rinhold.

His gaze flicks to my lips, which I realize I've wet with my tongue.

"Because you deserve the best, Scarlett. My offer of courtship isn't in title only. I want to show you what you're worth to me. Nothing else would do. I just… I didn't know it could be overwhelming like this."

I know the rumors and the tradition of Elite pairings. A courtship bound by a blood contract is a statement of intention and wealth. And it enhances everything.

Desire. Romance.

Sex.

But I didn't expect it to feel like my insides are on fire and only my mate can stop me from burning alive.

Is Edward my mate?

"Why me?" I ask. My fingers have gone to his chest as I explore him.

There's something missing. Like his body doesn't quite fit mine, but I'm inexperienced. A man's body simply feels foreign to me. What little experiences I do have were rushed and more or less fully clothed.

Edward's answer to my question thrusts all thoughts out of my mind.

"Because I know you're from Vulcan Village, Scarlett."

My heart stops.

I take a step back, but Edward follows me. The wet floor makes me slip, and I fall against the wall, banging my head hard enough for me to bite my tongue.

He catches me before I lose my balance, but now one of his hands is against the wall and his arm blocks me in. His other is looped around my waist, and one of his thighs is between my legs.

I stare up at him, stunned. The tang of blood is in my mouth from where I bit myself, and I lick my lips, waiting to see what he's going to do.

I've never heard the name of my home village before, but my soul seems to recognize it.

His stormy blue eyes appear dark in the frail light of my bath parlor. His gaze bores into me as I stare back at my own reflection in his blown pupils. "You're a prized selection, Scarlett," he says as he leans in, his breath hot on my lips. "But you were never meant for monsters. You were meant for me ."

When he kisses me, I break.

Because no one has ever spoken my secret aloud. It's always been shoved into a box, contained, locked away.

Edward knows about it.

And he wants me because of it.

When his kiss goes to my throat, I suck in a breath. He removes his thigh and I whimper, but I don't know what has me so pained.

He goes lower, and when his tongue flicks past the mark above my navel, desire shoots straight to my core.

I don't think. I act on instinct as I thread my fingers through his hair and guide him to where I want him.

Where I need him or else I'm going to implode.

When his tongue slides over my sex, I slam my head back against the wall again and close my eyes.

It feels wrong.

But right, too.

I'm so confused, I think as he thrusts his tongue over my entrance, making my hips buck with his movements.

"Tell me to stop, Scarlett," he says as his breath over my sensitive nub makes my core throb. "Because I… I want this too badly to stop on my own. You're not the only one affected by Cain's blood."

Right, the contract would go both ways. How callous of me not to realize that Edward is likely experiencing the same effects that I am.

Why should we suffer like this?

We're in a courtship, are we not? It isn't wrong to enjoy one another.

A little relief isn't scandalous or unexpected. In just a few weeks' time, I will accept him as my husband.

He will be inside me, so why can't we just have a taste of the life waiting for us?

"Don't stop," I say, which must be all the encouragement he needs.

Because he closes his mouth over my clit and he sucks, hard .

"Cain!" I cry out, the word meant as a curse. I must completely black out at that point because everything turns dark, and before I know it, I'm deep inside my nightmares. Shadows unfurl around me as broken shards of glass flicker through the air.

I'm alone with the beast who wears Cain's face, and his nostrils flare. I'm not sure if he's scenting me, or angry.

"Hello, Scarlett," he says. It sounds almost exactly the same as when Cain said those words in the ballroom.

I distinctly remember his hands around my waist and how he made me feel.

Like prey caught in a trap.

His beautiful, monstrous face stretches into a grin, showing sharp teeth. "You called?"