chapter fourteen
THE CREATURE
T oday, she scurried like a manic shrew, blindly gathering herself for whatever hole she was about to dig for herself.
Every day, her objectives might as well be cast in steel, but today she was on a different kind of mission. Perhaps my gifts inspired her to break from her unrelenting daily pattern.
I waited in the shadows of her hallway, tucked away as she moved around her bedroom. I could see her through the slightly cracked door, her figure fluttering in the candlelight.
She did not bother to turn the gas lamps on, which meant she would be leaving soon.
My back was pressed against the wall next to the door. Backlit by the candlelight on her vanity, her form began to shed some layers.
She struggled with a few buttons on the back of her high neckline.
I wished so dearly that I could help her strip faster.
She finally popped them out, undoing the rest painfully slow.
She slipped the dress down to expose her undergarments.
A sheer white corset cover and underskirt hid the rest of her.
A peek of black cotton stockings appeared as she adjusted her garters, tying a small pouch under the skirt.
She slipped that familiar needle into her hair as she twisted it up.
For me?
She dressed in what I called her working attire, which was a wool walking skirt and simple blouse. The last garment piece was a pair of muddy boots.
Those were her walking boots. She must be working tonight. Typically, she brought a satchel with her for deliveries, so she was lighter than usual. I was curious to see who she was going to meet. After she was finished, she flung the door open and walked right past me.
There was that nasty preoccupation again. Poor thing.
The walk along the winding streets began to look familiar .
She was coming to see me.
I watched intently as she moved closer to the home, inspecting the exterior again. I’d left the service door unlocked, though she did not bite. Instead, I watched her crouch down and pop open the cellar window, slipping inside through the basement.
Finally, a proper move.
I’d wondered how long she would let me flirt before she struck back.
Moving around the side of the manor, I stepped up on the stone edge to get a look inside. She moved about, rifling through my things to find the perfect place to set her trap.
It was like watching an animal in their natural habitat— seeing exactly how they worked when supposedly no one was watching.
It was not long before she wandered into my study. She left the door open, so I had a full view of her pouring one of her vials into my decanter.
How cheeky of her. I think it is time I “came home.”
Approaching my front door, I unlocked it slowly so she could gather herself. When I twisted the doorknob, I was greeted by the warm light of my home.
For a place I spent the least amount of time, it sure was spacious.
It was put to good use for gatherings and other selfish purposes, but otherwise it was like a maze.
Most rooms would have a thick layer of dust if I did not employ maids.
Upon entering, a large foyer and two sets of stairs joined to form a middle balcony above the room.
To my left was the living room, and to my right was my private study.
Directly in front of me was a hallway leading to many rooms that usually remained vacant.
A flash of movement disappeared around the corner, as well as the accompanying sound of footsteps.
How flirtatious.
I dropped my keys on a small table next to the entryway, letting them clamor loudly when they smacked against the wood.
A soft shuffling was heard.
There was no particular purpose to my direction as I wandered through my home. Slowly, I took each step, wondering if I was getting warmer or cooler with each move.
When I entered the long hallway leading to the rooms on the first floor, I caught a scent.
The deep chittering sound from deep in my chest bloomed with excitement as I followed, just far enough behind her so she thought she was doing well at this game. I could hear her shuffling through the connected rooms on the left side of the corridor.
I followed the scent closely through one of the lounging rooms, then to a connecting one.
There was a brief flash of a shadow from under one of the doors.
There you are.
As I made my way down the hall, the scent got closer and closer until I reached the room she was hiding in.
I did not go in. She was right next to the door on the other side.
I leaned against the wood, quietly taking in a breath.
I could smell her fear—the sweat dancing across the back of her neck, the heat that would undoubtedly be burning her cheeks.
Rushing such a special occasion would be a waste. I had been waiting so long for some effort on her part. The windows on the first floor could not be opened, so she would have to come out eventually.
I stepped back from the door, walked down the hall, and stopped at the end.
I’ll wait.
It took everything in me to push down that involuntary clicking that wanted to burst through my throat. It hurt to hold it back, but seeing her emerge would be worth it.
Like clockwork, it took twenty minutes for Alina to calm her heart enough to make her next move. I could smell every pulse that coursed through her veins. The adrenaline was a spicy tinge to her typical aroma.
The shadow slipped out, looking at the opposite end of the hall first—a dead end. Then she turned her face toward me.
Her expression made me salivate. Those blue eyes narrowed at the sight of me. A flash of horror graced those delicate features before her mind was lost in calculation, putting up an impressive facade to hide the terror that lingered under her skin.
What will you do now that you’ve been caught on your own terms? You started it this time. You will have to forgive me for what I do next.
The low chorusing vibrated from my throat and deepened in my chest cavity as it became hungrier, coveting .
Instead of panicking, she stood straight and moved to the middle of the hallway, fully in view.
There is no use in hiding. What is next?
She stood there, her eyes scrutinizing me from head to toe, assessing her options. There were none—not many at least.
Removing my hand from my pocket, I checked the timepiece on my wrist. I was not particularly curious about the time, but I was sure it was like an eternity for her.
Every moment that I did not move or speak, I could feel the trepidation festering inside her, even if she refused to show me.
I would grant her five more minutes, and then I would force it out of her.
“Three twenty-six,” she said.
I glanced in her direction.
“The time,” she clarified.
“I gathered.”
“How many more minutes before you move?”
“I thought it was clear that I was waiting on you. This is your game, dear.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Darling?”
“No.”
“Stubborn thing.” I clicked my tongue at her, tucking my hand back into the pocket of my trousers. “What will it be?”
During our banter, she had let her hair down, which only meant one beautiful thing: needles .
She pushed through one of the doors. I assumed that she would try her luck at going around through the connecting rooms.
She was slippery, but I was faster.
I kicked open the third door, hitting her with it before she could exit, and she fell back.
“I’m tired of this game.” I stepped toward the weak body on the floor. She clutched that same needle in her hand. It made me feel all nostalgic when I remembered the tingle of the poison inside of it.
“Don’t lie. You love games,” she sneered.
“Of course, but I would rather you think it through more meticulously next time.” I smiled, stepping closer.
She scurried back, but I stepped down on her skirt and leaned over her.
“Let’s play a new game, my choice this time.”
She kicked out a boot, and I grasped her by the ankle.
She swung her arm and buried the needle in my calf.
I twisted the ankle sharply inward. The yelp that came from her just exhilarated me more, edging me further.
“I think it’s time we had a drink together. You like drinking, don’t you?” I yanked the needle from my leg and tossed it away.
She did not answer, her shoulders tense.
“I will take that as a yes.” I grinned, then dragged her harshly across the floor by her ankle.
“No!” She thrashed and kicked. There were pitiful attempts at grabbing furniture, hallway corners, doorframes, anything she could. She even grasped at the rug, her nails leaving trails of disturbed fibers all the way to my study.
“Unhand me!” she shouted. “I’ll scream!”
“This isn’t your town house. The only one you’ll be screaming for is me .” I dragged her through the large double doors. There was a tall arched window behind an intricate executive desk, books covering the walls. Overall, it was a standard study—not that I used it for anything.
Today, though, it would be of great use.
I shoved her in front of the desk but left the doors open—an escape route, just out of reach.
She winced, glaring at me with fire that could have only come directly from the Phlegethon itself.
“Relax. It’s just a drink,” I said innocently, moving to the corner to fill two glasses.
Whatever she spiked my decanter with had no scent, but I was sure she would tell me what it was with a little pressure.
I returned to her, leaning on the front of the desk.
She did not move from her spot on the floor.
How obedient.
I brought my own glass to my lips, parting them as I breathed in the burning scent. I snapped a side-eye at her. “You know, you should have the first drink. It’s only polite that a guest enjoy anything first.”
I lowered a glass to her, but she shook her head.
“Alina Lis is refusing a drink? Now I know that something must be terribly wrong.” I gave her a look of faux concern.
“I prefer a different mood for drinking.”
“Tell me, Alina, did you tamper with my bourbon?”
“No.”
“ Alina ,” I warned, “don’t lie to me.”
“I’m insulted that you assume the worst,” she replied playfully.
I leaned forward, towering over her delicate frame. “Are you willing to give me your word?”
“I give you my word.”
“And what do you swear on?”
“God.”
“No, it has to be something you care about.” I cocked my head curiously. “How about your life?”
Her lips pressed into a fine line.
I have you now.
“Let’s test this theory.” My grin widened. I tipped my head back and let the poisoned liquor flood my mouth. I swished the liquid to gather the taste. Then I peered down at her.
Her eyes softened, watching with an unmistakable vivacity that she had shown many times before. An expression of hope, even if she had not meant it to be read in such a way. That glimmer of curiosity was always brighter than her facade, possibly the only honest thing about her.
I grabbed her by the face. The pads of my fingers pressed into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open as her hands gripped my wrist, digging her nails into my skin. I squeezed tighter to force her jaw to open wider for me.
I spat the liquid directly in her mouth, pressing my hand over her mouth before any more could spill from the sides of her lips. “Now swallow,” I said, leaning closer, my voice lowered.
Warm breath quickened through her nose as it fanned over my hand.
Her eyes grew pink as the tears welled up. I would like to pretend that it was from fear, but I knew that it was because the alcohol was burning her mouth the more she held it in.
“What? It’s not poison, correct? Why all the fuss?” I asked her, removing my hand slowly from her mouth.
She held it in on her own.
Genuinely, I wondered what she would do. Would she end it here or subject herself to more of my torture?
After another moment, she opened her mouth and spit out the liquor, gagging slightly as it soaked the front of her skirt and shirt. She spat several times on the floor, attempting to rid her mouth of the numb feeling.
“That’s what I thought.” I sighed, circling her.
Her white blouse became more transparent, allowing a small, damp window to view her breasts, pushed tightly against her by her corset. It was a shame she wore anything underneath at all.
“What do I do with you, hmm?” I asked. “How about another game? I’ll give you a second chance to take control of this mess you have made.”
“No more games.”
“That’s not up to you anymore.” I hummed, ideas swarming from the depths of my imagination. “Get up.”