XIX
SILAS
Lucian Beaumont is not a threat to me.
My entire life, I’ve watched people bow to me. This school is no different—teachers, students, faculty members who should have known better. Even that rebellious nun Tyne Hamilton, her retribution is on its way.
Power only comes to those who are willing to take it , and no one in Augustine Academy understands that better than I do. Lucian believes he’s above it all. That somehow, the rules he lives by are different. He doesn’t seek power. He doesn’t want control.
He just exists, floating through the school like an untouchable phantom, like he’s above the games that keep this place working like a well-oiled machine—the games that ensure Augustine Academy remains the crown jewel of Catholic Sixth-Form Academies in the United Kingdom.
At least, that’s what he wants it to look like.
I see right through him. It’s all a carefully curated act. To fool the naive, to get close to girls who only see the good in people. And that really doesn’t matter much. Only, he’s been spending more and more time with Eden. And now, as we’re standing here behind the chapel—the thing that boils my blood is that he looks at me like he knows something .
I have no idea why.
That’s the only reason why I showed up here. Because when a man who’s been spending too much time with your wife texts you to speak with him in a secluded place after hours, it can only mean one of two things.
He has questions.
Or he knows something he shouldn’t.
Lucian chose a quiet, forgotten corner of the campus where the old stone-work is covered in withering ivy, where the air carries whispers of forgotten saints and the sins that tormented them. It’s somewhere the priests never go, the nuns’ eyes don’t reach. Students don’t even gather here.
There’s no one around to hear whatever happens here. The thought of that gets my blood pumping. I found Lucian waiting for me leaning against one of the walls, his arms crossed over his chest. The late afternoon sun filters through the stained glass windows on the chapel turrets. Distorted colors skitter across his face—furrowed brows, a smug frown.
My hands are in my pockets as I approach. My gait relaxed, my eyes staring lazily in his direction. I run a hand through my hair with practised ease. It takes an incredible amount of restraint not to smash his face against the stone wall. But ever since my last commune with The Spirit, controlling myself has been easier.
Well, around everyone except Eden—she’s my undoing .
I stop a few paces away from him.
He doesn’t speak first.
I smirk. “I was wondering how long it would take a parasite like you to creep out of the woodwork.”
Lucian doesn’t take the bait.
Instead, he exhales slowly and says, “I guess The Order has finally corrupted you, huh? Because you’re acting like you’ve lost your marbles.”
My hand shakes ever so slightly. Out of everything I expected him to say—I didn’t imagine he had the balls to say that. There’s this certain edge of certainty in his voice. Like what he said is a fact, and I hate that.
“You have no right to speak about The Order,” I hiss.
He lets out a sharp laugh. “Why?” He cocks his head. “Because it reminds you that I’m the one who was originally chosen as the leader and because I refused to participate in those fucked up rituals, they handed my title to you?”
“You have no right to speak about The Order.” I say through gritted teeth.
Another mocking laugh. “Why is that, Silas Peregrine-Ashford IV? Because it reminds you that you’ll always live in my shadow?” he hisses, taking a step closer. “You would never be where you are if I didn’t make that choice.”
“I’m warning you—stop talking about it.” My hands are balled into fists at my sides. “Anything concerning The Order of The Holy Sacrament should never come out of your mouth, traitor.”
He smiles like I said something funny. “Okay, we can stop talking about that.” He picks some invisible lint off his stupid skull-printed hoodie, his unkempt hair flopping over his eyes in the process. “How about we talk about the fact that your family is fucking broke? ”
I freeze.
“Do you think you could hide it from me? I almost feel sorry for you. Nothing hurts worse than an empty title. How many of the people here would still acknowledge your ‘authority’ if they knew the truth?” He cocks his head, his smile growing wider, his emerald eyes gleaming. “Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone…yet. But I must say, it explains a lot—especially your insistence on pursuing Eden. She’s your golden goose.”
My throat burns.
But I finally find my words.
“Beaumo—”
He cuts me off. “My full name is Lucian Augustine-Beaumont, and you know it too. Just because I decided to go by only one of my last names to distance myself from this fucked up religious shit doesn’t negate the fact that I’ll always have more power than you can ever dream of.”
My skin tingles. I feel like I’m on the back foot. I find all the indifference I can muster, and feign a yawn. “You called me out here to monologue? You really are a spineless fool.”
“Monologue? No, Silas, I called you here to explain something to you.” His voice drops so low, it crosses the space between us like a snake sneaking through a thicket of bushes. “Leave Eden out of your plans. Otherwise, it won’t end well for you.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Is that an order?”
Suddenly, we feel like we’re on even footing again. He’s brought Eden into the conversation—and I’m a subject matter expert.
“It’s a warning.”
I tilt my head, genuinely amused. “What am I being warned against? ”
His jaw tightens. His hands flexing at his sides. Don’t tell me he’s developed some sort of feelings for her? “We both know you’re not good for Eden. You’re hurting her.”
Something cold settles in my chest. The implication of his words, there’s something strange about the way he’s said it. I take a slow step forward, closing the distance between us. My smirk fades.
“What makes you think you know anything about us ?”
Lucian doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.
His voice is calm, but I can pick up on the sharp undertone. “Then why the fuck is she always covered in bruises? Why does she believe that being in a relationship makes non-consensual pain okay?”
For a single moment I stop breathing.
How the fuck does he know that?
My mind races.
I replay every interaction, every moment, trying to figure out how he could possibly have any knowledge of what I do to Eden. I don’t talk to anyone about it—not even Cedric.
Eden wouldn’t have told him either.
She knows better than that.
And yet?—
The way Lucian watches me, the certainty in his gaze. He believes what he’s saying without a shadow of a doubt. I exhale through my nose, rolling my shoulders back. Masking the sudden fury surging beneath my skin. There’s a darkness gathering within me that I’m finding hard to keep a lid on. He insulted my role as Leader of The Order. He insulted my family name. And now, Eden?
The longer I stand here, the more ridiculous it feels.
It’s disrespectful no matter the angle you look at it.
And I don’t tolerate disrespect .
“That’s an interesting question, Beaumont.” I suck in a sharp breath, watching as the anger flickers to life in his eyes. “And it’s especially interesting that you think you’re entitled to an answer.”
“She’s just a means to an end for you. You don’t deserve her, Silas. And if you think I’m going to sit idly by and let you destroy her for your own selfish motives, you’re fucking wrong.”
That’s when something in my chest snaps. The darkness I’ve been keeping caged, The Spirit’s power that’s been latent in my veins finally takes over.
I lunge at him.
The first punch connects with his jaw.
A satisfying crack vibrates through my knuckles, but Lucian barely staggers before he retaliates—faster than I expect, slamming me against the chapel wall. He’s just a few inches taller than me, which usually means nothing.
But he came prepared to fight.
My back collides with the weathered stone, knocking the breath out of me.
A laugh rips out of me, my shadowy soul stepping into the front seat, blocking out the rest of my thoughts. All I want is Lucian’s blood now.
My hands grip his collar and twist, shoving him back so forcefully he stumbles this time. I tighten my grip, and we collide against the old wooden benches lining the chapel wall. It topples—as do we—breaking into a heap of rotting wood.
In the fracas, Lucian swings at me again .
This time, I duck, twisting his arm behind his back before slamming him chest-first into the splintering wood. He lets out a sharp grunt.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I growl. “Where do you get off thinking you can talk to me like this, you pompous asshole?”
Lucian grits his teeth, his fingers flexing against the remains of the bench.
I press down on him harder, twisting the fabric of that fucking stupid hoodie in my grip. “Do you consider yourself a hero, Beaumont? Do you think she wants you to save her? Do you think I’m afraid of you?”
He laughs .
And for the first time, I can sense the darkness within him. The same darkness The Spirit saw and chose him—but that darkness resides within me now.
“I’m the leader of The Order. Eden will marry me and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Hot, black heat rips through my chest, bringing with it thousands of voices and fury, swirling in my head.
I throw him back, watching as he stumbles a step before regaining his balance. We stand there for a moment, breathing hard, tension wrapping around us like a noose.
There’s latent energy swirling in my hands and feet. I want to kill him.
Lucian straightens, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. “I see now,” he murmurs.
I narrow my eyes. He meets my gaze, brashly.
“I see that you’re scared,” he shouts. “It’s so obvious to me now. I don’t know how I missed it before. You’re still the scared kid who watched his mother die.”
He wants me to react to that. But he doesn’t know that I’ve made peace with that a long time ago. I’m not scared. Why would I be? The Spirit has promised me everything I want, and in a few hours, Eden’s soul will be joined with mine forever .
“I think you should take your own advice, Beaumont.” My voice is deep, rumbling. “Stay the fuck out of my life, and away from Eden.” I clench my fists. He doesn’t respond at first.
Only tilts his head slightly, studying me.
What do I look like through his eyes? Does he realize that it isn’t an empty threat—can he see the savage sentience that he’s awakened by his foolish actions? Can he tell that the longer he stays here, insulting me , the more inclined I am to rip his throat out?
“I trust Eden to make good choices.”
“And she has.” I laugh, shaking my head. “She chose me.”
He exhales slowly. “It’s a pity that she’ll have to attend your funeral because of that choice.” Then he turns and walks away.
I let him.
For a long time, I’m glued to where I’m standing—staring at the disturbed grass, the broken bench. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, pain blooms in my knuckles and my shoulder.
My pulse pounds in my ears. The temptation to go after him, to finish it, almost makes me move. Lucian knows far too much, but there’s one thing especially that I can’t shake—how does he know how I fuck Eden?
Thick fog rolls over the campus, humming with something electric.
I lean against the doorway of the boathouse. The lake stretches out before me, dark and endless. Every now and then, a ripple disturbs the glassy surface and the moon’s reflection spills across the water like melted silver.
Everything is still, waiting.
I look down at the message I sent twenty minutes ago.
Silas:
I want to see you one last time before I leave, love. Come to the boathouse by the lake.
She will show up.
She always does—my sweet Eden, always at my beck and call.
I expect her to show up all dressed up. After all, I’ve planted the seed of an engagement in her mind. The boathouse at night is quite scenic.
Maybe she believes today is the day I’ll take a knee before her, that somehow I was trying to fool her and I’ve already made the necessary arrangements. She doesn’t know that tonight will be one of the most important nights in our lives. It’s more important than our engagement, our wedding day, the birth of our first child. Today, our fates will be sealed, forever.
The ache from my fight with Lucian pales in comparison to the tangle of thoughts that I keep getting pulled into. If it weren’t for The Spirit’s presence within me, I would probably descend into another episode.
But I’m calm.
What has been written in the book of fate by my God cannot be unwritten.
And despite what Lucian may think, Eden enjoys what we do—but he’ll never get the chance to see her that way as long as I’m alive. The way her breath hitches when my teeth trail along the column of her throat, the way her pupils dilate whenever she takes my cock, the way her body trembles and thrums whenever I call her a beautiful girl for taking all of me.
Eden is drawn to me.
To the darkness.
To the danger.
I can’t shake the hatred that settles on my aching shoulders whenever I think about the fact that someone, somewhere is gossiping about how I choose to break Eden. The sound of footsteps on the dock sends a slow, delicious thrill through me—cutting through the murkiness that had started to take over my thoughts.
I stay still.
Her shadow appears first, distorted as she takes slow steps. When she steps into lantern night, my breath catches for reasons I’d never tell anyone, only whisper against Eden’s skin.
Her coily hair looks the slightest bit untamed, ruffled from the wind on the walk over here. It’s held back by a simple white headband. She wears a white linen dress under her coat, a small pearlescent purse held in both hands. Flats, not heels, and just as I expected, it’s actually obvious that she’s wearing makeup.
There’s a deep crimson shade on her lips .
It’s the color of blood.
I want to smear the color and ruin it with my touch.
“Took you long enough,” I murmur, my voice deep.
She tilts her head, hair falling over her shoulder. “You make it hard to resist.” A small smile pulling on her lips. “I need time to get ready.”
She’s perfect .
I’m not sure how long I stand there, just staring at her.
But it’s long enough to make her say, “Did you invite me here to just admire me?”
“Can you blame me, love? I can’t tell if I’m dead or alive—you look like an angel.”
Even in the dim light, I can see the slight change in the color of her cheeks. I step aside, gesturing for her to enter. She doesn’t hesitate and steps past me into the boathouse. On the outside it looks like a weathered wooden building, but each semester I’ve been making small changes to make it more of an escape for me. Other than the other members of The Order, I’ve never brought anyone here.
But tonight, I’ve transformed it for Eden.
There’s a vintage persian rug the color of charcoal spread in the center of the small room, with lit candles sitting on golden candlesticks dotted around the room. The warm light dances across the worn wooden beams overhead
A bouquet of wildflowers—soft blues, deep purples and pale whites—sit in a simple jar in the center of the rug. I plucked them all from the fields around campus, choosing each one carefully, ensuring it was perfect, just like her.
Her mouth falls open, and her hands move to clutch her neck.
I notice that her golden cross necklace is missing, as she usually holds on to it whenever she experiences an intense emotion.
“What happened to your necklace?” I ask.
I follow her inside the boathouse.
She takes it out of her pocket. “It’s been broken for a while now. The clasp melted somehow.” She looks down at it. “I suppose I’ll get it fixed somehow.”
“Hm.” Is all I offer, taking her hand and leading her to a cushion sitting on the rug.
I sit on the opposite side. “These wildflowers are for you. I spent almost the entire day choosing the right ones.” I look down at the bouquet. “Forget-Me-Nots, because their pale blue reminds me of a clear sky, and just the thought of you calms the storm in my head.” She picks up one, twirling it between her fingers. “Wild Lupines, for the way you make me feel alive. I knew from the first time I saw you, I’d never be the same—my life stained forever like deep purple.” Eden’s smile grows wider. “And Queen Anne’s Lace because of your purity. You’re untouched by the world’s cruelty, bringing light to even the darkest moments.”
“Wow, I…” Her expression is somewhere between awe and pure happiness. “I don’t know what to say…Silas.”
The longer I’m here, the more I realize that this would’ve been the perfect moment to propose. But I’m Silas Peregrine-Ashford IV and there’s no way I could bring myself to propose to her in a rickety old cabin like this.
“Say you’ll be mine forever.”
Eden grins, her brown eyes like melted chocolate in the flickering light. But she doesn’t say it.
That’s fine.
I close my eyes, reaching for her hands.
She sets her bag down with a soft thud, then puts her hand in mine unquestioningly. This is one of the things I love about her the most—she lets me lead her. We sit there, just breathing for a while. Unbeknownst to her, I’m calling to The Spirit to intercede, to make sure that everything goes as planned.
Soon, the air grows thick.
I open my eyes as the tension starts to build, the candles flickering more intensely.
“Look at me,” I murmur, my voice a dark, silken whisper.
She does.
The Spirit is here, gently seeping into her; so gently, she doesn’t even realize it. Her pupils are already dilating, her body swaying softly, caught in an invisible current.
“Good girl.” The praise makes her breath hitch.
Her mind is slipping away, but her body is still here—responding to every subtle shift in my tone, hanging on to every word that slips out of my mouth.
“I want you to focus,” I continue, my voice dipping even lower. “Nothing else matters. Not the air in the room. Not the sound of the water outside. Just me.”
Her lips part slightly, brows furrowing. There’s a small trace of resistance. I let go of her hands, resting them in her lap. Brushing my fingers along the side of her throat, her pulse jumps beneath my touch. The reaction doesn’t make it to her brain—she’s still staring, mindlessly, vapidly.
An empty vessel for me to fill.
“Breathe with me.”
She does.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Soon our breaths are synced in a slow, deep rhythm .
My hand drifts lower, fingertips ghosting her collarbone. My touch is light but purposeful. A tether to keep her anchored while she slips away from reality.
“Do you feel it, my love?” I lean over, my lips close enough to hers so she can feel my breath.
She swallows, her lashes fluttering. “Feel what…?” Her voice sounds far away.
I watch her closely, letting the silence fill the empty spaces. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, as if she’s desperate for me to say something.
“The pull. The weight of my voice in your mind. They way your body listens before you even realize it.”
Eden’s whole body trembles slightly. Her pupils are blown wide now, her breath coming slower, heavier. My fingers dip lower, slipping over the thin fabric of her dress, hesitating by the peak of her nipple. She arches into my touch.
“Do you feel heavy?”
She exhales shakily. “Yes…”
“Good girl.”
With my other hand, I brush my fingers up and down her arm in a rhythmic motion. “You don’t need to think anymore, love,” I continue. I imagine my voice wrapping around her like warm water as she sinks deeper and deeper. “You don’t need to question. Just listen. Just follow.”
She shivers again.
Her resistance is waning, threadbare now, unravelling in slow, perfect strands. My beautiful wife . Cupping her jaw, I tilt her chin up ever so slightly—locking eyes with her.
“Say it. Tell me you’ll listen.”
The last flicker of hesitation.
“I’ll listen.”
My lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile .
“That’s my girl.”
She exhales, the last bit of resistance disappearing with her breath. Her mind belongs to me now. The candles burn even brighter, so bright the room gets warm.
Eden is sitting on the cushion spread on the floor, her hands on her lap, her eyes wide, her mind blank. This is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her—and that’s saying a lot when she has been the object of my desire since I found out who she was.
“Who do you belong to, Eden?”
A beat of silence. “I belong to you, Silas.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“You possess me in every way. I am yours.”
My cock twitches in my pants. Her pliant words, The Spirit’s presence—it’s a perfect night. I produce a knife from the pocket of my pants, setting it aside. For now, I’ll just enjoy her.
But there’s a question pressing against my thoughts that I can’t ignore.
“Tell me something, love,” I ask. “Did you tell Lucian about our intimate moments?”
A beat of silence.
Then another.
“Yes, I did.”
I grab her neck harshly, jerking her towards me.
There’s hardly a reaction from her.
“Oh Eden, why would you do that? Now I have to punish you.”
Is it my voice, or The Spirit’s? I can’t tell .
But one thing is true—Eden betrayed me.
And betrayal can’t go unpunished, it sets a bad precedent. Forget enjoying her. I’ll enjoy her when our souls are sealed, when she can fully understand the extent of her betrayal.
With a push, I have Eden on her back, staring up at me wide eyed, her hair splayed out around her like a wreath. My hands are shaking, my body tingling with all the energy I’m holding back.
I’m tempted to squeeze her throat. To wrench the life from her, bit by bit. But that wouldn’t serve my purpose. Eden is worth more to me alive than dead—right now.
I straddle her, picking up the knife to slit her thin dress right down the middle. It rips in a single go. I tear the fabric off her and toss it to the side, narrowly missing one of the lit candles. I do the same with her underwear.
Her pupils are so wide her brown eyes look like reedy pools of pitch black water. Her breasts heave with each deep breath she takes. Perfect russet skin—the only blemishes on her skin are the ones I’ve left there.
She’s so pure.
At least she was, until she tainted herself with Lucian. My mind starts racing. That’s what emboldened him to think he could attack me. What else has Eden shared with him? Has he touched her…
Thoughts darker than midnight swirl in my mind. I have Eden trapped under my spell, but I can’t even bring myself to ask. Cleansing her of her sin and sealing us together is the most important thing right now.
With my knife in hand, I start carving into her skin.
Her body trembles, but there is no resistance. Her mind is so blank that she couldn’t even find a scream if she wanted to. Blood spills from each stroke I make, cascading down her stomach. The pentagram will be just between her breasts.
As I make the marks, I chant “ Zyth’kaar velinoth xul’aroth daruuth,” begging the Spirit to cleanse the impurities in her soul. By the time I’m finished scoring her skin, she’s covered in blood.
It pools beneath her, staining the carpet.
“This isn’t the way I wanted tonight to go. I wanted us to fuck first, I wanted to enjoy you the way I always do,” I say. “But you’ve forced my hand, love.”
I cut both her palms, deep enough to bleed. Then do the same with my own. Taking our hands, I press the marks together—our blood intermingling, joining our life forces—the final step to sealing our souls.
The candlelight grows brighter, flaring as I start the chant.
“Xal’voth aran’dur, thyrn vel’kuth ral’zeth.”
“Xal’voth aran’dur, thyrn vel’kuth ral’zeth.”
“Xal’voth aran’dur, thy ? —”
A heavy gasp fills the room, like a swimmer coming up for air after a long dive. Eden sits up straight like somebody’s doused cold water on her, pushing me off her so forcefully I stumble backwards.
She’s looking around with a crazy look in her eye. A hand flies to her head.
“Why do I feel so…” She pulls her hand away to find that her temples and palms are soaked in blood. Her eyes flick to me frantically.
Then she looks down at herself—the pentagram carved into her skin, the pool of blood around her. Her eyes widen in shock.
“Is that a penta?—”
I jump over, covering her mouth before she can say anything else, before she can scream. She starts flailing her hands, trying to push me off but she’s too weak. I keep her pressed under my body. “You should’ve stayed under the spell, love,” I whisper against her skin. “There’s no god here to save you. Pray to me and maybe I’ll consider giving you salvation.”
Tears bead in the corners of her eyes.
My blood drips from her lips. Every one of her screams taste like me. And I’m going to make sure she never forgets this night. With my other hand, I free my aching cock. Eden’s eyes widen—she feels it brushing against her leg.
“There’s nothing more beautiful than you, Eden,” I whisper against her skin. She shudders. “Especially right now. The ritual is already done.”
I replace my hand with my mouth before she can ask any questions.
She’s trying to speak, to scream, to do anything, but she’s just too weak.
The kiss is raw, punishing—I bite her lips, her voice dying on a full-throated scream as I push my cock into her, sealing the ritual in an explosion of pleasure. Tears are streaming down Eden’s face, but her body arches against me as she takes all of me. Her body is still acting on its own accord.
She’s so tight.
So warm.
So perfect.
For a brief moment, I stop thrusting to savor what she feels like. Her arousal coats my cock, and I close my eyes. That’s when everything goes wrong.
I let my guard down, and she finds the chink in my armor— her.
A shrill scream rips through the air, and Eden shoves me so violently my cock slides out of her and I end up on my side. My foot knocks over a candle and it falls to the carpet.
Fuck.
The fire spreads quickly—the whole fucking place is made of wood. Footsteps are what brings me to the present. Eden has grabbed her coat and fled.
I jump over the flames consuming the boat house, sprinting toward the door. I’m almost through it when part of the fire burns my foot.
FUCK.
Searing pain shoots up through my leg and I fall onto the deck. Behind me, flames hotter than hellfire rage. Ahead, Eden is running away—disappearing into the night.
Do I go after her, or save myself?
With a deep sigh, I make the obvious choice. Eden can’t run from me forever. The ritual is already done. No matter how much she tries to evade me, she’ll always be pulled back to me. So I let her go.
With all my strength, I push myself off the dock that’s crumbling more and more by the second, landing in the icy water below. Instant relief hits my leg, but my mind isn’t at ease. I swim away from the boathouse toward the shore, like a shark on the prowl.
And I’m in the mood for Eden’s blood.