Page 5 of A Tale of Two Dukes

“Fancy seeing you here.”

I freeze. That voice. It’s so familiar. One I thought I’d never hear again. The hands turn me, slamming my back against the wall. And that’s when I look up, a scream hovering about my lips.

Who is this stranger that speaks from the grave? A dark, black mask encrusted with what looks to be rubies adorns his face, covering everything but his lips and chin. But even that is familiar. It shouldn’t be. It can’t be.

His fingers brush against the edges of the mask, acting as if he’s about to lift it. Teasing me, toying with me. It increases the dread that beats at my chest, threatening to burst from me. At long last, when he seems to tire of the charade, he lifts it, revealing the devil himself.

Again, my lips part, an earth-shattering scream hovering in my throat. But I don’t even have the chance to make my terror known. This specter slams his palm against my mouth, quelling the sound even as it begins.

Familiar black eyes sparkle at me, filled with hate and malice. Bile rises in my throat as I squirm, looking into the veil of death, yet unable to dispel it. How can this be? How can I save myself from a ghost?

“I’m going to lift my hand now. If you so much as make even the tiniest noise that reveals the danger you are in, I will leave here and make haste to your family’s estate. I’m sure your sister would like to know the cause of her demise as I slit her throat.”

Panic beats at me, eating at my insides as I stare up at the man known to me as Birchleigh. Well, that is the former Birchleigh. The one who swung from Tyburn’s tree not even a fortnight ago.

“Be a good girl,” he croons, slipping his hand away. “That’s it.” His voice coats my body like oil, and I shiver in revulsion. “See, you can be obedient. Such a good little omega. I’ll have to remember what stimulus causes you to heel like such a good bitch.”

His words smack me as efficiently as any physical blow. I recoil, pressing my back into the wall. “I- You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Devils never die, my dear. You should know that.”

“How would I know what devils do?”

He pauses for a moment and gestures to the men and women. “Are you not in the very den of iniquity?”

My stomach plummets as I follow his gaze. Unfortunately, he has a point. I’m no longer blameless and pure. Just being in the same room as all this sin has surely tainted me.

Unable to help myself, I reach out, touching his shoulder. “You are real and not a figment,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and thick with emotion. “How is this possible?”

“Perhaps I have some unfinished business. Maybe I’m here to torment you, to find out what it is you did to cause this.”

Recoiling, I stare into those eyes, so lifelike, yet so dead. But in an instant, they shift. No longer are they the black, familiar eyes of my betrothed. They now glimmer a pale blue. So different and yet the same.

What sort of witchcraft is this? Around me, the noise seems softer, muted. No one pays us any attention. It’s as if I no longer exist. We no longer exist.

“I am blameless.” The words stutter from my lips, filling the space between us.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t understand the nature of his words. Nothing I did was in the wrong. Coming to this brothel is my only transgression, and there’s no way he can lay that at my feet. Not when I had a reason to run.

“Oh, my precious, little liar,” he breathes, lowering his lips to my neck. “Your falsehoods drip so prettily from your lips. Perhaps I should try another way.”

Reaching between us, he slides his fingers over the swell of my breasts, pausing for a moment to run the tips over the smooth expanse of skin. Unlike the inquisitive touch of Madam Douler, the violence in this gesture vibrates against me.

Nausea wells up my throat, choking me, preventing me from crying out. Soon, his gentle touch turns feral, digging into my skin. It’s claiming, owning, and altogether agonizing.

But even then, I don’t cry out. I can’t. I won’t. Images of my sister flood my brain, cutting off any self-preserving need to draw attention to the assault at hand. But inside, I scream, bellowing to the heavens, begging God himself for someone to save me.

CHAPTER 3

William

Despondency drips through my veins, making me leaden and tired. It’s a petulance that threads its way through my body, weighing me down. The cause is not unknown to me.

Easier if it were. But no. It’s a cloak that’s draped over my shoulders, a mantle I never wanted to bear. Duke. The word flits through my mind, forcing my heart to squeeze so hard it actually pains me.

Childish, to be sure, but then, I was never made for greatness. In truth, there are many days I wish I was never born an Alpha. Then, I could spend my time carousing with nary a care. Glancing over at the other dukes around me, friends since toddlers, a sense of irritating jealousy winds around me.

The only man that can even come close to knowing how I feel is Norhaven. Ever since he became a duke, he’s been sullen, given to fits of pique. Granted, his demeanor is far more explicit than mine. I at least have the good sense to keep everything close to my chest, keeping up a lighthearted air when all I want to do is disappear into the bowels of the earth.