Chapter 15
PENELOPE
Idon’t like her.
The way her big blue eyes, framed with perfect lashes, don’t leave Billy.
She watches him with hunger, following his mouth with every word he speaks, even though Billy addresses the entire group of people, our housekeeping team to be exact, it’s as though she thinks he speaks directly to her and her alone.
Billy dragged me out of bed, told me to dress quickly and meet him out in the sitting room of our suite.
Which is what I did. And now I find myself in an oversized light pink hoodie, fitted black leggings, and a Pair of Billy’s white sport socks too-big on my feet, my shower-wet hair in a messy side braid, and he deems that appropriate for introducing me to our housekeeping team.
They stand grouped just inside the main doors to our quarters, all of them in matching knee-length dresses, black and fitted, white aprons tied around their waists covering their skirts.
Billy goes through everyone’s names and what they do.
All of them seeming nice, seven women in total, two of them, Delphine and Isabelle, I am informed, are my personal attendants, catering to my every requirement around the clock.
Which likely means they’ll have nothing to do all day because I am not someone who needs a maid service.
If I want something, I’ll just get it myself.
“And finally, this is Imogen.” Billy lifts a hand up in her direction, the blue eyed watcher, “Our head of housekeeping.” I smile tightly, tilting my head in somewhat of a nod, squeezing my hands together where they’re laced tightly at my back as she still doesn’t look at me.
“And everyone,” he says, turning to face me, giving me a wink that nobody else can see, “this is Penelope,” a small pause, his eyes still on mine, then, “your boss.”
I almost choke, my eyes going wide, my fingers going fizzy with pins and needles where I grip them so hard, but I don’t say anything in response, flattening my expression to look anything but shocked.
Instead, moving my gaze from Billy to the cluster of ladies standing before me, all of them looking unfazed.
All of them except one.
“Welcome, Penelope,” Imogen says tightly, her smile forced, “we can’t wait to serve you.”
“Where have they been all this time?” I ask Billy as he closes the bedroom door behind us, the team of women all moving around the rest of the suite to do their duties.
“What, you mean since you got here?” Billy clarifies, cocking his head at me, I nod. “They’ve been coming in at night.”
I blink, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Well, that’s creepy.”
Billy lifts a brow, “Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna overwhelm you, plus, there are lots of things you weren’t allowed to see until you’d passed your second trial.”
A shiver crawls down my spine, my eyes glancing up to inspect the spider carvings in the wood ceiling.
I haven’t looked at them since that, the thankfully non-lethal spider bite I got during the trial put me off somewhat.
But looking at them again, I see just how intricately beautiful they are and realise I missed seeing them.
I frown then, dropping my gaze, thinking about what he just said, “Second?”
“The first was Novus.”
A sudden chill cools the room, a huge fire roaring behind the grate, trying to stave off the mid-December chill, but I still feel cold, uneasiness settled in my bones.
I keep waiting for news of what happens next.
What comes next.
Another trial.
Something worse.
My fingers reach up of their own accord, their tips hovering over my Pairing mark as I think about it, “But you branded me then.”
It’s not a question, but I’m confused by that practice, why would someone be branded first, before the other ‘trials’.
“You’re gifted your Pairing mark first because they expect a worthy member to never fail their Pair-”
“What if I did,” I interrupt, nerves making my pulse fly, “fail?” I look up at him, my gaze leaving my feet, “What if I fail you?”
“You won’t-”
“But what if I did? What if I do? What if I can’t pass the next thing? What if I-”
“Penelope,” Billy speaks my name coldly, stalking towards me, crossing the too-large room with such fluid predatory grace it unnerves me.
I think of the sex, of the spiders, their legs making me itch as they crept across my naked flesh.
My mind takes me back further, to the woods, shovel in hand, one in Dolly’s, her smile not quite right.
‘They hurt me, too, Penelope.’
I think of the trial. The eyes, all of them watching me, all of them hidden from me, in their hooded cloaks, the shadows hiding their faces, the flickering candlelight not enough for me to properly see.
Billy’s hands come to my knees, him on his own before me where I’m on the edge of the bed, my hands shaking in my lap. His eyes are calm, his touch warm as he looks up at me.
“You will never fail me,” he says confidently, like he really, truly believes it. “You are my Pair, Little Lamb, and nothing,” he emphasises, “is going to break that.” His hand lifts to my face, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, not unkindly but too tight to be nice, “Not even you.”
It startles me awake, a thud.
And I’m grateful.
The sound wrenches me from my nightmare, a priest’s exorcism torn from gritted teeth, jagged and sharp.
Sweat drenches me like rain upon the condemned, cleansing nothing, revealing everything. My nightmare such a vast combination of things, but in the end, after all the running, it all comes down to one singular thing that’s tearing me up inside.
Catching up to me.
Guilt.
I don’t need to turn my head to know he’s not there, his side of the bed empty, pillow dented.
I can feel when Billy Blackwell is present, like a divine being, his aura too big, too loud, not to notice it. He demands attention, even if he doesn’t want it, eyes are always drawn in his direction.
Or they were.
When I really, truly knew him.
I’m not sure who he is now.
Equally, I’m not sure who I am.
Who we are together.
Demons.
Devils.
Monsters.
Gods.
He seems to bring out the worst in me; feelings I haven’t had time to process shaking me up inside.
All of them fuelled by fear.
Still, in this moment, my joints tight, muscles screaming, head pounding, fear making my heart hammer, he’s all I want.
He’s all I ever want.
All I’ve ever wanted.
There is safety even in his horror.
‘I love you more than any soul has ever loved another.’
I believe it, every word.
Feel it.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting the rug, and I’m instantly cold.
Freezing, as I step off of the carpet onto the wood, the fireplace dark, nothing but hot ash behind the grate.
I grab a floor length silk gown off the back of the chair, quickly pulling it on over my short black nightdress.
Hurrying across the huge room, my fingertips pause on the gold doorhandle, and instead of opening it, I’m leaning in, pressing my ear against the door, listening.
I think of last time, another night just like this, and goosebumps prickle my flesh.
Fear clenches my stomach, speaking in a language older than reason, a whisper beneath the skin, the first sound I ever learned to understand.
I hold my breath, my ear flush with the door.
Predictably, I hear nothing through the thick wood, still, something in my gut warns me to move slowly.
My hand is shaking, my teeth chattering, and I worry what I’m going to find in the large open space of our sitting room.
Alone again.
Unprotected.
I pause, taking in a steadying breath, and tip-toe run back to Billy’s side of the bed.
I’m silent as I open his bedside drawer, lifting the drawer up a little as I pull on the filigree gold handle, trying to stop anything rattling around inside.
I stare down at it, the smooth matte black, and even in the dark, the 9mm looks too big for my small hands.
But I take it in hand all the same, checking it’s loaded, and head back to the door.