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This wasn’t the plan. She was supposed to pay, not be my salvation. She was supposed to be fucking dead by now. I definitely wasn’t supposed to have my mouth, hands, or cock anywhere near her.
Sex has never muddied the waters before. I’m not stupid, I know why she does, but I really thought after all these years I would be stronger than her.
I should be.
God fucking damn it.
Chapter 19
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."-Edgar Allan Poe
I inspectthe bruises on my hips and neck, the bite marks on my collar bone and breast and a tiny smile lifts the corner of my mouth as I trail my finger lovingly over them.He marked me.
I sigh, pulling the sweater back over my shoulder before stuffing my feet into thick wool socks that come up below my knees.
I can always tell when he’s gone. Like my body reads his energy or something equally as romantic.
I slide around the castle in my socks, looking for a certain butler…or is he just the keeper? I have no clue, but I do know he’s my best friend. “Francis!” I call out, stopping when I find him with a tea glass almost to his lips as he sits in an armchair by a fire.
“Yes, miss?”
I take the chair across from him, folding my feet under myself as I smile. “Can you tell me about Atticus?”
Francis pauses. “We’re not allowed to talk about the master’s personal life.”
I frown, turning to look at the burning embers of the fire. “I saw this picture in his desk… I just, I want to understand him better.”
“Miss, whatever you saw, you should unsee and never, under any circumstances, bring it up to him. The master’s past is a… it’s a delicate matter.”
I sigh, “I don’t remember my childhood. Only here lately have I begun getting small pieces back and from what I can tell, it might be better to not remember.”
“The mind sometimes has a way of protecting us from things we cannot handle.”
I mull this over. Twisting and turning the words in my mind. “Then I’m afraid of what happened… But I want to know.”
“Sometimes it’s better not to.” Francis says so quietly I almost don’t hear him.
“Maybe.” I whisper.
On One Hundredand One Ways to Die, we have Constance scaling the castle walls to hop over a balcony and get into the man-keeping-her-captive’s office. Because he was smart enough to lock it this time.
I grunt, my hands digging into the side of the castle as my foot slips slightly. The mountains of dresses in my closet does not do one any good when they are scaling a building. Especially not the sweater dress I have on, but it’s somewhat better than a long skirted one.
We must give thanks to the small wins when trapped on an island.
I heft myself up onto the railing, using the small amount of arm strength I have to pull myself up and over. I give myself a minute to catch my breath as I rest against the balcony railing.
Get in and out, unnoticed.
That’s the plan. It’s all I have, but all of that crashes down as soon as the balcony doors swing open and Atticus steps out.
And man, that’s not his happy face. Not that he has one, but this one is downright vexed.
“What the fuck are you doing, Little Bird?” His tone is a cool hiss, making my body shiver and has me questioning if that was a rhetorical question. “Get in here.” He growls.
The last thing I want to do is go in there with him. I’d rather jump back over the balcony and fall to my death. As if he can read my mind, he tugs hard on my wrist, pulling me into his office and slamming the door behind me.
His office is the same. Boring, cold and unalive. Without an invitation, I take the armchair closest to me. Spotting a book on the table next to it, I grab it.The Essential Edgar Allan PoeCollection. I open it to the page that is marked with a horrific dog ear and begin reading.
