chapter nineteen
THE POISONER
C hop.
I swung the ax down, lodging it in the stump.
Unlike Phoebe, I did not feel the need to hire a full staff to keep up with the home.
When the only occupant was myself, it was more embarrassing to have a staff.
I did everything myself, which I was used to from my solitude.
My father used to let me split a log or two while he showed me how to maintain our cottage in the countryside.
I only needed to cut some smaller pieces for the woodstove, as the ones I’d bought were more fitting for the large mantle.
Another thing about not having a staff was that no one would question you when you had to add more peculiar duties to the list.
Chop!
I swung the ax down on the arm where the elbow was connected, splitting the limb.
He had never left me with an entire body before. Burying it whole would be cumbersome. The appendages would find a home fertilizing my hydrangeas. However, I let the ravens take what they wanted from my pile before I laid them to rest in the soil.
The autumn air was cool against the sweat accumulated across the back of my neck and forehead.
There was a taut pinch in my abdomen, and I used the propped-up ax to lean on the hilt.
Eve’s curse had visited me a bit early this month, I suspected from the stress of having a psychopath on my heels.
No wonder I was so bleary. The pain was getting worse when I was not in a consistent state of lukewarm discomfort, which was almost worse than brief bouts of pain in my womb.
After the splits were placed in the firewood box in the mudroom, I hoisted the ax over my shoulder as I trudged back inside.
My boots were wet from the grass, leaving marks across the floor, but I was too lightheaded to fuss about it.
The white blouse I wore was a mistake, as it was covered in scuffs of dirt at this point.
Thank goodness my skirt was black. I did not need two stained garments.
The labor for today was finished. Laundry would be an issue for a later time.
My muscles ached for a warm bath, with no burden of extra work to pull me from my relaxed state.
Every step up the stairs made me feel like I was carrying some gravitas burden. I swore I heard my joints creak during the ascension. At the end of the second-floor hallway, a shadow at the opposite end insinuated that someone was waiting around the corner.
Today of all days?
He had some nerve showing up after that scene in his house, the tantrum in the cemetery, and leaving me a body to dispose of on my own. I would not allow him to disturb me in my limited time of peace.
With careful pursuit, I let the ax slide off my shoulder.
Thwap!
The blade smacked into the wood of the wall next to his head as I turned the corner.
His eyes were wide. I might have actually caught the elusive Creature off guard. He glanced at the ax and then back at my face. Genuine surprise.
“Marry me,” he breathed.
“Get out! ” I yelled, yanking the blade out of the wall and sending splinters scattering across the floor.
“Not when you flirt with me like that.” He backed away a few feet before stopping, a taunting instigation.
I swung again, the weight of the ax too slow to catch him when he was attentive, missing him.
Another swing. He ducked before it could meet that smug face.
“Oh, you’re really teasing me now.” He grabbed the handle between us, headbutting me in the face.
The pain shot through my head, and I let go of the ax, stumbling backward and hitting my head on the floor.
When I looked up, he was hoisting the ax over his head, directly above me.
I shrank and covered my face.
Thud!
No pain followed the sound.
My arms slowly fell away, the ax buried in the floor to the left of me.
He was staring, waiting for me to realize he had not killed me.
“I can appreciate a good fight. You know, I thought you were only an underhanded type of woman. It’s good to know that you can strike too.
” He stepped past and crouched beside my head.
When he knelt down, he placed his hand on my forehead, wiping some blood from the cut he created when his head met mine.
“That was juvenile.” I glared up at him.
He licked the blood off his finger. “Worth the headache.” He moaned. “Silas, one. Alina, zed.” He made a zero shape with his fingers.
The next day was no different.
I bounded down the hall, slipping on the edge of the rug before picking up my pace again.
Silas was not too far behind, his boots smacking against the creaking wood.
I snatched a metal-tipped pen when passing by a writing desk, the only item I could use as a weapon on such short notice. It was better than having to use my fists.
The heels of my walking shoes hit hard against the floor. It was too late to be quiet. We had passed the silent portion of our chase hours ago. This was the longest I had been able to elude him so far. I skipped several steps on the stairs to get down to the second floor.
Suddenly, there was a tight grip on my hair, pulling at my scalp.
Oh no ? —
Silas wrapped my braid around his palm and drew back hard.
I screamed as my back smacked into his chest.
“Silas, two. Alina, z?—”
“One!” I shouted, and shanked the tip of the pen into his thigh, relieving the pressure from my scalp.
I was unsure if the following animalistic noise was from pain or arousal. I would rather not dwell on it.
Jumping down more steps and hopping over the railing, I made for the back door leading to the garden. I was halfway across the grass to the greenhouse before a force toppled me to the ground.
We rolled a few yards from the impact, tangling with each other. Scratching, biting, and gripping.
The only pause we had was when I stuck a small, rusty potting shovel against his neck.
The only thing he could do was keep me in place by straddling me.
Finally, a stalemate.
Our breaths could be seen in the afternoon air, mingling in a singular puff of vapor before it disappeared.
He was angry, but tired at least.
I was grateful for that, as I was suffering the same exhaustion from this waltz.
“When…will you admit…that I won’t yield?” I breathed, my red fingers gripping the handle of the shovel, pushing it against his skin.
“You will,” he exhaled wearily. As he caught his breath, he leaned back with his hands on his hips, looking down at me as if to decide where we would go from here. The overcast light made those cruel gray eyes look even brighter—more calculating.
I would be seeing those eyes every day that week, hoping the last time I saw them would be on a silver platter.
He shoved my chest into the wall of the hallway outside my room, kicking my legs apart with his boot.
“What we have here?” He pressed his hips against me, one hand firmly gripping the back of my neck.
He’d caught me while changing today.
I only had on a thin white petticoat skirt and a sleeveless corset cover. It was a little more exposed than I preferred, nowhere to hide anything sharp.
Silas lifted my skirt from behind, staring at the bare skin. He grabbed one half of my backside and squeezed.
I flinched at his touch. A hot dribble ran down my leg.
“Oh, I feel like I’ve just found gold at the end of a rainbow,” he said sweetly. “Now this is making a bit more sense. Why didn’t you tell me it was your strawberry week ?” His words were childish, mocking.
Don’t be such a child.
He let it fall down my leg, blending into the red Persian carpet as it met the floor.
“Ah, how inconsiderate of me to pursue you in this state!” his voice rang in my ear. “But first, if you want any relief, release that thing in your mouth,” he demanded, holding his gloved hand out in front of my mouth.
I gave him a long, seething glare over my shoulder before slowly spitting a small glass vial into his palm.
“I knew there was something in there. It’s not like you to refuse a good banter,” he teased before pocketing the vial and removing his glove with his teeth.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, pushing my palms against the wall, but his grip on the back of my neck held my cheek against the wallpaper.
“Being a gentleman, of course,” he said low in my ear as he gathered the fabric of my skirt, exposing me in the front. The warmth of his fingers danced along my pelvic bone before cupping between my thighs.
“ No! Stop that!” I fussed.
His index finger gently pushed against the entrance of my vagina.
My breath hitched, and I pushed back against his chest. This animal was touching me during the worst time. How could he possibly think this would make me feel better?
His finger slipped inside easily, lubricated by the fresh blood.
“Silas, please take it out,” I pleaded, my body rigid from discomfort, both inside and out now.
He added a second finger and moved them tenderly inside, flexing against the swollen parts of me.
My body let out a sharp tremor, my head flinching back.
“There you go. Let me in,” he whispered against my shoulder, gently gracing it with kisses while he stroked his fingers inside me.
I would never admit it, but it felt good— really good.
It was like the sore parts of myself were melting in his hand. While the idea was uncomfortable and unthinkable, the endorphins were doing wonders for the pain in my abdomen, like a release of tension that I was never sure how to deal with, if not with laudanum.
“ Disgusting. ” I couldn’t disguise the gasp when he picked up his pace.
“You? Never,” he said sweetly in my ear, his breath fanning across the back of my neck.
He quickened his pace. Everything inside me was so sensitive, like it was waiting for a release like this.
My head jolted back against his shoulder, and I let out a labored breath, unable to focus on whether I wanted to kill him or give in.
He stepped back, walking us backward until his back hit the opposite hallway wall. His other hand cupped my breast as he held me against him. He hit someplace deep inside that begged for more.
“ There ,” I gasped, gripping his wrist as his fingers stroked against my insides.
“There?” he repeated, but he moved his fingers slower.
I groaned and scowled up at him.
His smug expression peered down at me before he turned his face into my hair, seemingly basking in my flustered state.
“Finish what you started,” I warned, my nails digging into his hand as my hips rolled in his grip.
“If that is what the princess wants.” He let out a soft chuckle.
He curled his fingers, the methodical strokes making that familiar knot grow tighter in the pit of my stomach, sure to hit that same spot I begged for.
Relief and pleasure dulled the throbbing pain little by little before I forgot it was even there in the first place. All I could focus on was his fingers inside me—the new ache that was forming.
As I got closer to what would be my sweet release, I bit my bottom lip, not willing to give him the satisfaction of any sounds that I would make as the orgasm rippled through my body.
A low vibration came from his chest as my body melted in his arms, before pulling his fingers out to inspect their scarlet coating.
“Does the point go to you or me? Is this a draw?” He hummed, licking his fingers clean.
“That is revolting.” I grimaced, ignoring his question.
“Blood is blood.” He smirked. “I will take anything you give me— anything .”
This game was becoming arduous. It consumed all my time and energy, day and night.
He’d corralled me to the attic this time.
I stood on the small balcony, knife in hand. It was the only thing I had not thrown at him that night.
His tall form appeared in the doorway of the attic entrance, and he lunged forward.
I held the knife up to my throat.
He practically skidded to a halt, dead in his tracks.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending this.”
“You are bluffing.”
“Am I?” I trailed the tip between my breasts, pressing against the skin to coax out a thin stream of blood.
“Stop—” He inched forward.
I moved backward, bumping against the short railing and faltering.
Strong arms pulled me roughly from the edge, holding me against him, though the tip of my knife was now under his chin, teasing the flesh of his neck.
“What was the score again?” I put pressure on the blade against his skin.
“Five–eight, your lead,” he mumbled.
“Yield, or I will throw myself off the roof when you’re not looking.”
“I yield,” he said quickly.
A satisfied smile curled at the corner of my lips.
“Will you put that down now?” He raised a brow, glancing at the knife.
I reluctantly pulled it away, but so did he.
“Have you had enough of the fighting? Shall we try something different?” he asked, leaning on the railing beside me and pulling out a flask.
“I am tired of you,” I said simply, eyeing his flask as he took a swig.
“A celebratory gift?” He offered it to me.
He’d kept me busy enough all week that I did not have a moment to sleep, never mind drink.
I took it from his hand and drank a few gulps before handing it back.
All that excitement was making my abdomen cramp up again, like someone had punched it.
I would have assumed that Silas was the cause, except he never hit me during our little games.
Which was odd now that I thought about it.
He only wanted to chase, catch, release, and repeat.
“You know, if you just gave in, I would be worshipping you right now instead of chasing you,” he whispered in my ear. “Though it is rather exhilarating when you play hard to get.”
“I am not playing,” I said flatly. “I don’t trust you. There is not one tender bone in your body. What makes you think I would ever entertain a sadist like you?”
“Not one bone?” he asked innocently. “You’re a woman of science. Doesn’t it flatter you that something superior wants to have you?”
“Superior?” I challenged. “If I remember correctly, I won.”
“Because I let you,” he stated simply.
“Is that what that was at the cemetery? Letting me win? Or was that a surrender?”
He fell silent, his expression unfaltering, but I could see his body physically tense.
How interesting. Could I be witnessing remorse? I had truly seen it all if that was the case.