26. Mercy
26
MERCY
“ I once gouged someone’s eye out just two doors down from here,” Constantine sing-songs as she walks through the entrance of our personal seamstress’ studio, the door held open by Constantine’s pet, Albert. It’s a small space, with heavy black curtains framing the windows and a busy floral wallpaper covering most of the space.
“Am I meant to be surprised by that?” Belladonna responds with a hint of disdain as we both walk in after her. “I bet it would be easier to list off places around Pravitia where you haven’t maimed anyone.”
Belladonna’s coldness towards Constantine could easily be explained by old family feuds but in truth, she just doesn’t understand Constantine’s appeal and only tolerates her in small doses. I’m usually the one who forces her into it—like today. Constantine, however, has never cared about what other people think of her or bothers to keep track of the feuds between the six ruling families.
She giggles and turns to face us, pleated pink skirt twirling. “That’s a good point, Bee.”
Temperance—seamstress to the ruling class—appears from the back wearing a gold mumu, her curly brown hair pulled into a chignon. She’s been ancient for as long as I can remember; I’m always half-surprised when I don’t feel death lurking in the shadows anytime I visit her. “Girls!” she says theatrically. “Always so lovely to see you.”
She walks up to me first and places her hands on my shoulders, giving me two air kisses before sweeping her gaze up and down, seemingly taking me in.
“Power is becoming on you, my dear,” she says.
Her tone is far too warm for my comfort. I ignore how her compliment makes my chest tingle while I give her a tight-lipped smile, quickly removing myself from her grasp. Not bothered by my lack of response, she moves to the two others before clasping her hands together, multiple rings clinking, and surveys all three of us.
“Just shy of two weeks until the inauguration,” she muses. “You didn’t give me much time.”
“Oh Tempie, I’m sure the dresses will be as breathtaking as always,” Belladonna chirps.
“I’ve been busy,” I say under my breath at the same time.
Typically, I would have Temperance come to me, but I desperately needed out of Mount Pravitia this morning.
The executions were just yesterday, but time seems to have stopped, subjecting me to a cursed limbo state where I’m incessantly haunted by Wolfgang’s final words and the unnerving pleasure of the ghost of his touch.
Wolfgang was the man who left me high and dry at Manor.
How did that even happen? Was it on purpose? Or just a baffling and horrifying coincidence? And why did he not say anything sooner?
All questions I should confront Wolfgang with. Instead, I’m avoiding him. I can’t stand the thought that he kept this hidden from me for almost a month.
His move was calculated. He knew he had the upper hand.
My hand twitches near my thigh, visions of gutting him from cock to throat dancing behind my eyes. Still, and unnervingly so, the same confusing flame glows brightly deep in my gut. The thought of his mouth on my skin resurfaces in my mind for the umpteenth time since he so viciously whispered the words into my ear.
A small shiver courses down my body at the memory of the night in question.
The anonymity of his tongue on me.
Hot and needy. His warm lips sucking my clit. Fingers digging into my thighs. I’ve never remembered a tryst at Manor so vividly before. And it had to be … him.
“Mercy?” My eyes snap to Belladonna. “Are you even listening?”
I keep my face neutral, but inside my heart rate triples, incensed that I just got caught daydreaming about Wolfgang. My gaze sweeps the room and I realize Temperance has disappeared into the back, leaving us alone while both Belladonna and Constance have settled on the purple couch near the wall of mirrors.
I grumble a What now? and sit on the opposite couch, facing them.
Belladonna lets out a small sigh, copper hair tumbling down in soft waves over her chest, her long-sleeved crochet dress the color of daffodils. “I said that we haven’t done anything for your birthday this year, we should celebrate,” she says with a smile.
I cross my arms and look away. “I’m in no mood to celebrate,” I answer.
“Oh please,” she replies with a soft laugh. “Stop being so?—”
“Incredibly boring,” Constantine says for her.
Belladonna tongues her cheek. “What Tinny said.”
My eyes narrow, turning to Constantine. “That reminds me, thank you for the flowers,” I bite out sarcastically.
She giggles into her hands, her two high ponytails falling into her face. “How did you know they were from me?”
“You weren’t subtle, you dunce.”
“What flowers?” Belladonna chimes in.
My gaze slips to hers. “Tinny sent me flowers,” I say flatly. “Signed them as if they were from Wolfgang.”
Constantine bursts out into an even deeper laugh and when Belladonna joins in, I’m mere moments away from clawing both their eyes out.
Temperance returns and interrupts my violent impulse. Ignoring their fits of laughter, she directs me with a wave of her hand to the small podium facing the mirrors.
“How has it been?” Belladonna asks, a bit more seriously this time.
I peer at her through the mirrors while Temperance busies herself with double-checking my measurements. I chew on my lip before asking, “Being in power? Or having to share with …” I pause, the words sour on my tongue. “Wolfgang?”
“Both?” she replies with a small inquisitive shrug.
My mind can’t help but tumble back into the memories of yesterday—and even earlier yet, and I’m appalled all over again. I mull over my response, keeping my expression flat.
“Bearable,” I finally say.
It’s a little after midnight when I arrive back home.
I shouldn’t call it home , but my aversion to the word won’t change that Mount Pravitia will be my official residence for the next two decades.
The dress fitting only lasted a few hours, but I was reluctant to return so early in the evening, instead stopping by Gemini’s just to waste some time. I refused to answer any of his probing questions about the loaded gaze Wolfgang and I exchanged when he held up the severed head to kiss.
I will keep those secrets to my death—and even longer still if possible. Gemini grumbled about the irony of having me as a best friend but eventually dropped the subject, distracted by some vapid gossip only he could manage to care about.
The living quarters are quiet as I make my way through the enfilade, the staff having retired for the night. I walk into my bedchambers to find them empty.
I do a quick sweep of the room just to make sure but can’t find my dogs anywhere.
I stand idly for a beat in the doorway before the back of my neck begins to prickle with an errant thought.
They wouldn’t .
I turn on my heels, backtracking through the row of rooms, in a temperamental huff, and head for the West Wing. I know exactly where Wolfgang’s living quarters are located, but I’ve never had a reason to step foot in his wing before now. It’s just as lush and decadent as everything in this place, just a little smaller than mine are—and with a lot more mirrors.
I approach his bedchamber with hurried steps and a clenched jaw, but when I hear a muffled groan, I skid to a stop. I hold my breath, my heart slamming in my chest. Through the cracked door, I peer into the room. Only the warm light from his bedside lamp illuminates the space, and my eyes immediately land on Wolfgang sprawled in bed. He appears to be naked, gold satin sheets covering most of his lower body, except for …
Except for.
My mouth falls open. Slowly, my hand reaches my lips as I begin to covertly watch him from the small opening. Gripping his cock in his palm, his head rests on the headboard behind him as he pumps up and down his hard shaft with a tight fist, the muscles in his arm and naked chest tight with exertion.
A moan falls from his mouth, and my clit throbs as if in answer. In the way his jaw is clenched, and eyebrows furrowed, he seems angry, fucking his fist with a barely discernible rage.
I step closer.
His free hand grips the sheets, and a low curse traverses his lips before his movements turn more frantic as he fucks his cock even faster. He comes with a long hiss, his head falling downward, abs growing taut while the cum pulses again and again all over his stomach.
My body is aflame, my mind a ruined mess.
When his dark gaze snaps to mine, I fall deeper into the blazing inferno. A shocked gasp dies somewhere in my throat, but I don’t try to escape his scrutiny.
I hold his icy stare as I count the quick rise and fall of his chest.
“Perverted little creep,” Wolfgang growls, his hand still loose around his cock. Slowly, he drags his finger through his release, a sinful and crooked smile appearing on his lips. “Next time you want to slither into places you don’t belong, I’ll force-feed you my cum with your caviar on toast, really make it a delicacy.”
His sharp, degrading words only manage to stoke the raging flames even higher, my clit aching to be touched. Instead, I reach for the handle and slam the door in his face.