Tower of Shadows (Once Upon A Wicked Villain #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

HAVEN

The marriage cuff squeezed Haven’s wrist again, and he continued to ignore the forsaken thing. Apparently, it wanted Rozlyn at his heels. Or him at hers. The dress she’d been wearing hugged her breasts and waist in a way that had made his cock stiffen.

Haven pricked his finger and squeezed two drops of blood into the mixture. He unbound his hair and plucked a single strand before adding it to the liquid. Leaning over the bowl, he exhaled and let the concoction steal some of his breath. He’d told Rozlyn he needed a break from the other spell, but what he’d truly needed was a distraction from watching her out of the corner of his eye while at the cauldron. Every time she leaned over to stitch into the fabric, her cleavage nearly spilled out of her gown, begging him to give into temptation. To touch. To taste. To fuck.

No .

He stood from the chair and carried the bowl to one of the smaller cauldrons filled with herb-infused water, the talons of a dragon, the horn of a unicorn, and the bones of a wolf—all shifters from various courts.

Stirring the liquid in the cauldron first, he then poured the bowl’s contents into the mixture. His shadows churned the liquid, around and around. Emerald smoke curled up from the cauldron, and he grabbed a vial from the shelf behind him. The smoke grew thicker and wove around the cauldron, remaining there and awaiting his call.

Haven held up the vial. “Enter,” he demanded. The smoke listened and seeped into the glass until it was filled. A necromancy spell that he could easily sell to someone who was foolish enough to use it.

Once he was free of this curse.

But waking the dead never turned out well for those gullible enough to follow through with it.

He looked at the successful spell on his shelf that was still waiting to be used on Adham. Soon .

Haven’s gaze fell on the chair where Rozlyn had been seated, the dress she’d been working on neatly strewn across. He was used to seeing her in here, listening to the soft sounds of the pads of her fingertips brushing fabrics and sliding a needle in and out of it. The room suddenly felt empty now. But why would he give a fuck? Did he want to preen to her over the spell he’d just completed? Pathetic . He’d always lingered alone in here before, even when he’d been with Vivienne. Now that he thought about it, over the past couple of weeks, he’d spent more time in this room with Rozlyn than he ever had with his match.

Haven flexed and unflexed his hands, then went to the cauldron in the corner to distract himself. White and black bubbles speckled the blood. Furrowing his brow, he dipped the ladle into the thick liquid and scooped up Rozlyn’s hair. He lifted the lock between his fingers and rubbed the crimson away until deep purple strands were revealed. Another failure. In every instance her locks had turned a color other than the red he’d wanted to remain.

“Fuck,” he grunted, then threw the hair back into the cauldron and wiped the blood from his hand with a towel. There had to be something he could do to keep the tendrils inside his locket from turning back to gold. If the hair within the cauldron remained the shade of blood, he could use it to stay out of the tower for more than a day. Eventually he wouldn’t need Rozlyn or her hair at all. But fucking when ?

Haven should’ve only had to marry the bastard princess and use her hair once, not continue searching for an answer to solve this endless riddle. He swiped his hand across glass jars on the shelf, letting them shatter against the floor, the sound utterly satisfying. Jaw tight, he snapped his fingers and the glass and contents slid together, the jars perfectly back on the shelf.

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, and he pinched the bridge of his nose—he needed another lock of Rozlyn’s hair. But did he? Or was he attempting to make excuses to see her? The cuff squeezed his wrist as though agreeing for him to start over on the spell.

As he left the room, Haven wondered if Rozlyn had already taken a bath. Had she touched herself while in the evergreen-scented water, sliding delicate fingers between her folds, then slipping one, or two, into her wet pussy? When she found pleasure, how loud did she become? Soft and breathy or screaming and moaning? Did the water slosh against her large breasts, her hard nipples? And then he recalled how she didn’t pleasure herself, only when she’d been learning. She saved her pussy to be touched by others, had come to his tower for him to touch her . His cock started to harden as it had earlier and he squeezed his balls until they ached. “Control yourself.”

Rozlyn mentioned how Haven had been overly emotional while in the spell room, but he was pent-up with an extreme desire to fuck and fuck hard. Feel a warm cunt clench around his cock. He’d have to use his hand twice a day instead of once until reuniting with Vivienne.

Haven reached the top of the tower and pounded on the door. “Maiden.”

“Marquis! Marquis!” Iseult shouted, his voice muffled.

Was his assistant touching what was his? Was she attracted to a fucking skeleton this whole time? Haven threw open the door and discovered the room empty, but then the wardrobe rattled and he noticed a hairbrush stuck through the handles. He ripped the brush away, then yanked open the doors. Iseult tumbled to the floor, his wrists bound with a sash.

“Rozlyn left, Marquis. I couldn’t stop her,” he panted.

Haven’s nostrils flared and he stared hard at his cuff, ignoring Iseult’s rant about how Rozlyn was only trying to help. He hadn’t once thought of checking the link between them, particularly since every time she was at the top of the tower and he below, it squeezed. Like a second pulse in his veins, the link thrummed, and he focused on it, feeling her. She was still in Souldark. But somewhere he hadn’t expected. At least not yet. Nightshade’s manor.

Was Rozlyn fucking him ? How did she even get there? Had that slithering snake been visiting her in the tower somehow, buttering her up? She didn’t belong to that bastard yet—she was still his . His princess, his captive, his wife.

“How did she get out?” Haven said between gritted teeth and balled his hands into tight fists.

“My key.” Iseult sighed, his fingers clicking together behind his back. His assistant might’ve been tall, but Rozlyn could’ve overpowered him—anyone with hands could. Yet the fool shouldn’t have been such an imbecile as to get himself trapped in the first place.

“Find a way to unbind yourself—I’m going to retrieve my wife ,” Haven growled.

Going after her in gargoyle form wouldn’t be quick enough, especially not if she left Nightshade’s manor and ventured further south. Who knew if this na?ve maiden would get herself killed in Souldark. If she did, Haven would be fucked.

Besides locating her, the cuff was good for one other thing. He shut his eyes, muttering an incantation as his thumb ring drew out his shadows, the cuff digging into his flesh.

This spell better work .

A gust of wind swirled around him, tugging at each of his nerves, and when he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the tower room but in Nightshade’s piece of shit manor. The fire crackled behind him, and his gaze settled on the ferryman. Nightshade smirked at him as he set his glass of wine on the table. Rozlyn stood near the settee, blinking at Haven, her pouty lips parted in surprise. They were both fully clothed, but his home still reeked of sex.

“What did you do to her?” Haven seethed as he stormed toward Nightshade, lifted him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

“Haven! Let him go,” Rozlyn shouted. “You’re acting ridiculous.”

Nightshade grinned. “Yes, let me go.” He leaned in close so only Haven could hear him. “We haven’t fucked. Yet .”

Haven strained to keep his shadows from tearing Nightshade into tiny morsels. He released him and whirled on Rozlyn, his eyes narrowed. “You left the tower. Do you have a death wish?”

She squared her shoulders. “Are you threatening me?”

“Have I hurt you yet?” He frowned. “This court is dangerous. You need to stay in the tower—if you die, I’m fucked.”

Rozlyn stepped toward him wearing a scowl that didn’t suit her soft features. “Nightshade told me that your curse is now my curse. Is that true?”

That meddlesome prick. Haven’s nostrils flared as he cast a murderous stare at Nightshade. “You—”

With an arched brow, the ferryman tapped the tattoo on his wrist, prompting Haven to recall that they had a bargain—meaning he would tell Rozlyn all of it. And that could interfere with Haven’s plan.

“Wait in the corner over there,” Haven said to Rozlyn, motioning to a spot on the opposite side of the room, then faced Nightshade.

The ferryman’s smile widened as he looked past him, but before Haven could turn around, Rozlyn’s smaller, albeit strong, form leapt onto his back. He stumbled forward, tripping over Nightshade’s fur rug, until they collapsed into a heap on the floor. Even though he was larger than her, she flipped him onto his back and pinned him down by the shoulders, a dagger at his throat.

“My madam taught me how to be nice, but she also taught me how to be very bad when needed.” She tilted her head and smiled innocently. “So now, Marquis, we’ll discuss this curse situation thoroughly, or I’ll make your night far worse than you’ve ever imagined.”

A low chuckle rumbled up Haven’s throat. This bastard princess may be a better physical fighter than him, but she was no match for his sorcery. He could easily have his shadows remove her from him and hold her against the wall. But he didn’t. A lick of heat veered straight to his cock, and regardless of what his future plans were, he wanted to fuck her right there.

“Don’t mind me,” Nightshade purred, reminding Haven whose home he was in. The fucker picked up his wine glass from the table and sipped on it while peering down at Haven and Rozlyn.

Haven’s gaze met Rozlyn’s brown eyes, and in this light, they appeared nearly hazel. “We’ll have a discussion,” he started, “but I need to speak with Nightshade first.”

“Fine,” she relented, “but if you don’t tell me the truth about the curse, I’ll slice one of your fingers off, then stitch it back on.”

Haven fought a smile. “You need to practice your threats, maiden.”

Rozlyn huffed and removed the blade from his throat. She then peeled her curvy body off his, leaving him desiring her warmth as she went to the corner of the room.

He pushed himself up from the floor and approached Nightshade. “You asshole,” Haven ground out.

“Follow me,” Nightshade said and lured him into the shadows of a dim hallway. He leaned against the wall and grinned. “You didn’t say how tempting the princess was. I quite like our bargain.”

“Shut your mouth,” Haven snapped.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you fancy her.” He chuckled. “But how could that be when you claim Vivienne is your perfect match?”

A deep growl escaped Haven’s throat. “Silence.”

Unfazed, Nightshade brought the glass to his lips and finished his wine. “At our last meeting, I forgot to mention that there’s someone who might be able to help with your curse.”

Haven glowered. “What are you talking about?”

“A spirit resides at the bog near the white mountain,” the ferryman drawled. “An ancient sorcerer.”

“And you just happened to forget about him?”

“It slipped my mind. I was focused on other things that night. Fucking. Wine. Bargains .” He shrugged. “Figured you would come back. You never did.”

“You’re playing games,” Haven said, his voice low, dangerous.

“Aren’t we all?” He peered past him into the sitting room. “I think you have a wife to return to.”

“If you’re fucking with me about this sorcerer, my shadows will eat you alive,” Haven vowed.

“You and your shadows will thank me.” He leaned in close and cooed, “And I’ll thank you when Rozlyn is mine. You might want to fuck her while you have the chance.”

Gritting his teeth, Haven turned and left Nightshade lurking in the shadows. Rozlyn was still in the corner, chewing on her plump lip while stitching a yellow piece of cloth.

“This isn’t the time to be sewing,” Haven muttered.

“It’s the perfect time,” she said without looking up. “I left the tower to help you .”

Sunlight spilled through the slit between the curtains, and Haven held up a finger. “We’ll continue this conversation when we’re back in the tower.”

Bright light flashed before his eyes, and as it cleared, he and Rozlyn were no longer at Nightshade’s manor but inside the room at the top of his tower.