CHAPTER TWELVE
HAVEN
“Pack light, then get some sleep,” Haven said to Rozlyn and shifted out of his gargoyle form. Beneath his flesh, his wings were whole, not a single throbbing pain, as though they’d never been torn. Because of a bastard princess who took kindness upon him.
“I’ll be sure to bring needle and thread.” She nodded and knelt beside her satchel, emptying its contents on the floor.
He studied her delicate features for a longer moment than he should’ve as she sifted through unnecessary items. Then he left and shut the door behind him.
Haven balled his hands into tight fists, still feeling the gentle trail of her soft fingertips against his wings. His shadows stirred, battling against him to reopen the door to touch her, to let her touch him until he groaned.
Tonight they would fuck, but only this once.
He would have his revenge, his match, and Rozlyn would hate him when she discovered she would be sent to Nightshade for the rest of her life. Never would she have the dress shop she so desired in Dawnbreak.
But sacrifices had to be made for the Marquis of Shadows to get what he wanted.
Haven bounded down the tower steps and into the spell room. Iseult stood beside a stack of books on the floor, another four in his skeletal hands. His assistant skated a finger over the spines on the shelf, then placed the books he held near the end.
“You’ve returned, Marquis,” Iseult greeted. “I’m halfway finished putting the books in alphabetical order for you. It will make searching for spell tomes much simpler. Do you need my assistance with anything else?”
Haven’s muscles ached, debris clung to him, and he could still smell the stench of the bog in his nose. “A warm bath. Add a couple drops of sandalwood.” He scowled. “After sunset, Rozlyn and I will be gone for a handful of days. Maybe more. Once you finish cleaning the tower floors and stairs, you are free to do whatever you want while I’m away. Just make sure the liquid in the cauldrons remains thickened each morning.”
Iseult’s bony shoulders stiffened, and his jaw parted as he quickly stepped toward Haven. “But, Marquis,” he stuttered. “I like to keep busy.”
When he’d created Iseult, he hadn’t known he would be so compliant, so dutiful, so hardworking. “Then continue taking care of the tower if you’d like, but remember, it’s not required this time.”
“Thank you, Marquis.” Iseult exhaled, the sound one of relief.
“My bath…”
“I’ll start it right away.” Iseult bowed his head and padded from the room, his robes swishing.
Haven went to the cabinets and rummaged through jars until he found the two he needed. He collected four vials, then filled two of the containers with the yellow and blue liquid before mirroring his movements on the second empty jar.
When night fell, he and Rozlyn would each drink two of the vials to keep their hunger sated and their thirst quenched during the journey. Food and water sources were scarce in most of Souldark. There were exceptions, like Adham’s castle and the replenishing food stock in Nightshade’s home. The ferryman had Haven’s sorcery to thank for his endless supply of wine.
Haven wouldn’t be burdened with carrying a satchel—however, he allowed Rozlyn to pack one for her sewing supplies. Not to please her, but in case they were necessary if one of them were wounded. He took the small doll Rozlyn had made off the shelf, along with the spell—both would be used on Adham soon enough.
The edges of Haven’s lips curled up as he imagined what it would feel like once the lord’s heart was in his fist, then after he stomped on it with his boot.
Haven entered his bathing chamber and inhaled the scent of sandalwood. He made his clothing vanish before sinking down into the warm bath, his shadows seeping out to relax from a long night. His thoughts veered toward Rozlyn, and he would take her outside the tower to fuck her as soon as night fell.
Once Haven finished in the bath, he hadn’t found solace in sleep. He’d lain in bed, staring into the darkness, thinking more about fucking Rozlyn than reuniting with Vivienne. But after he and the bastard princess consummated, he could move on, gain composure, and focus on making Souldark his.
A soft knock came at the door. “Haven?” Rozlyn chirped, her voice cheerful. “I told Iseult I would come get you. The sun is setting.”
Haven shoved the blankets away from him and snapped his fingers, igniting the flames in his room. His shadows fastened the felt buttons of his shirt before he answered the door.
Rozlyn stood before him wearing a simple black dress that would make it easier for traveling. And removing . “For you.” She passed him a flask, and he drank a sip before slipping it into his pocket. “Also this.” A lock of hair fell from her hand into his palm, and he added it to the one in his locket.
Her hair was pinned and plaited around her head, and a bright smile spread her dark rouge lips. Irritation washed over him—he knew that smile wasn’t because she was going to fuck him but because she was leaving the tower.
“One moment.” Haven left the door cracked and slid the doll and death spell into his other trouser pocket. “You can come in now.”
Rozlyn pushed open the door, and her doe eyes widened as she looked around the room. “It’s just as I imagined. Black.”
Haven rolled his eyes and held out two vials toward her while he clasped the others. “Drink these,” he instructed.
She hesitated as she brought them close to her face and inspected them.
“They aren’t poison or a sleep aid,” he continued. “The blue one will keep your hunger away, and the yellow, your thirst.”
“Oh!” she chirped. “I wish I had known about these earlier.”
When she’d snuck out of the tower… Glowering, he lifted a vial to his lips at the same time Rozlyn did. The blue liquid slid over his tongue, the flavor akin to roast lamb and savory carrots. As the yellow one came next, its taste mirrored that of honey tea.
“Get your satchel and meet me at the entrance,” Haven said.
Rozlyn hurried up the stairs, and Haven found Iseult already waiting at the tower entrance.
“Stay safe, Marquis,” Iseult said and unlocked the door.
As soon as Rozlyn bounded back down the steps, Iseult opened the entrance and Haven parted the shadow barrier for her.
Once they entered the night and the click of Iseult locking up sounded, Haven’s heart unexpectedly thundered inside his chest, slamming against his sternum.
“Where would you like us to go?” she asked softly. “Does it have to be a certain distance outside the tower?”
From what Phoenix had said, consummating should only have to be outside his home. But if he fucked her against its obsidian walls, would that still be considered part of the tower?
Haven felt like a damn fool as Rozlyn waited for him to answer. This was a courtesan who was only fucking him for both coin and the curse. It didn’t matter if he was using someone, but he didn’t like being used himself. He wanted her to yearn for him, to beg for his length, so it didn’t feel as if he were crawling to her as a patron.
He’d been matched young, fucked for the first time when Vivienne had finally been ready, and he’d never had any trouble burying his cock into her sweet depths. Snapping a throat was simple enough, fucking without someone desperately wanting his cock was another.
Regardless, he needed to consummate this marriage. If they were to get away from the tower, he could take her to the nearest tree, simply unfasten his trousers, hike up her skirts, and thrust his cock into her warm pussy. Moans and groans of spirits drifted through the air, and he scowled. Not once had he and Vivienne ever pleasured one another outdoors. But if it had been last night, he could’ve easily brought Rozlyn over the edge. But, after a night of overthinking how this would play out, he stood still as the statue he’d become for two years.
Rozlyn’s face softened, and she gently placed her palm against his chest. “We have all night, Haven. We can find somewhere else away from the spirits. It can be anywhere outside the tower from what you mentioned. So that means it wouldn’t have to even be outdoors,” she murmured, her voice soothing. “Pleasure can come later.”
Haven’s pulse relaxed beneath her touch. She was right about one thing—it didn’t have to be outdoors, and he should’ve realized that sooner. He knew precisely where he would take her for the night. Not uttering another word as his shirt and boots vanished, he drew his shoulders back while his wings burst from his back.
Rozlyn squeaked, her eyes widening, as he lifted her close against his chest and took off into the night sky, his wings snapping with the wind to take them higher.
“You could’ve warned me!” she shouted over the breeze, her body shaking like a frightened lamb in his arms.
“Consider it foreplay.” Haven smirked.
Rozlyn squeezed his neck, and her eyes remained clenched shut as though he would drop her at any moment. He would do far worse to anyone who crossed him, but Rozlyn wasn’t his enemy—she never had been—only a maiden of unfortunate parentage who he needed in more ways than one.
With her curvy body pressed against his chest distracting him from observing the world below, he hadn’t realized how far they’d traveled until Nightshade’s manor came into view. The orange orbs cast a ghoulish glow across the area, and keeping a firm hold around Rozlyn, he descended toward the manor until his feet touched ground.
“You can open your eyes now,” Haven said.
Rozlyn cracked open one lid, then the other. “Why are we at Nightshade’s?”
“It’s the nearest indoor building, and after last night, I don’t trust something to not distract us.” The will-o’-the-wisps, mainly, but there were other things to worry about in Souldark.
Haven brought Rozlyn to her feet, her breasts brushing his chest, and his cock twitched at her closeness, her sunshine scent.
She stepped back, and Haven released one of his shadows, unlocking the front entrance. He threw open the door and barged into Nightshade’s home. The ferryman lay bare on the settee, a different female spirit riding him this time.
“Get the fuck out!” Haven growled.
The female gasped and leapt off Nightshade before snatching up her dress and fleeing through a wall.
The ferryman sat up with a smirk, clearly entertained. “This is my house, you asshole.”
“Not for the rest of the night,” Haven proclaimed.
“We can go somewhere else,” Rozlyn suggested, pressing a hand to Haven’s.
“You’re lucky I don’t tear off your head for not warning me about will-o’-the wisps in the bog.”
“Don’t act as though you don’t know danger lurks everywhere here.” Nightshade chuckled while tugging on his trousers. “Besides, I spoke to Phoenix earlier today when I gave him his gondola ride to the gods. He told me precisely how you need to finish breaking the curse.”
Haven’s shadows stormed out from his hands, unfurling and growing in size—a threat. “Out. Now .”
“You’re being irrational.” Rozlyn squeezed his arm.
Nightshade’s gaze locked onto her, and his smile turned seductive, his eyes hooded. “It’s no issue at all. Breaking the curse helps everyone here. I hope to see you sooner rather than later, Roz.”
Haven’s nostrils flared at the use of a pet name for a woman who was still his . Once the ferryman sauntered out the front door, he turned to Rozlyn. “We’re not fucking in this bastard’s sitting room.” It would be in Nightshade’s bed where the ferryman would know who she belonged to first.