XIV
EDEN
I didn’t get any sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him.
Silas—his hand gripping my body, his teeth wounding my lips, my terrified screams muffled against the gag as he dangled me from a window and took something that I’d been taught belonged to my husband. I was shocked and horrified, my body pumped full of so much adrenaline that my nervous system couldn’t figure out what was happening.
For a while, I didn’t even know what was happening. One moment we were kissing—then everything turned painful. The bloody kiss, his cock stretching me unexpectedly, the thick, warm liquid that dripped down my legs after he was finished. With each punishing stroke, I could’ve fallen to my death.
Yet there was a thrill to it.
And the words he told me after keep echoing in my mind, bringing with them a warmth I’ve never felt before, a warmth that I’ve been chasing all my life .
“I promise, love. I’ll always want you, and you’ll always be mine.”
The buzz of adrenaline lingers beneath my skin, something dark and intoxicating, cinching my ribs like a corset a size too small. But there’s something else that I can’t ignore— shame. I handed over my innocence to Silas on a promise.
But I don’t want to think about that now. What happened brought us closer together. It doesn’t matter if my body aches all over. The swollen lips, the rawness of my thighs. The pain between my legs is near unbearable, and each movement sends a sharp, pulsing reminder of last night rippling through me.
Is it still a sin if we have a happy ending? I clutch my cross, closing my eyes, begging God for forgiveness, guidance, and most of all—reassurance that what Silas promised me was the truth. When I’m finished, my eyes are burning.
There’s a tingling sensation between my legs that wasn’t there before. I need to use the bathroom, so I push myself upright.
Oh Lord — the sheets.
I stare at the mess beneath me.
All this time, I thought the warmth seeping between my legs was from him. But dark red stains stretch across the fabric, a stark contrast to the pale sheets. It looks like a crime scene. Like something violent happened.
My stomach twists and I flop back into the bed in pain. A painful whimper escapes me. Just then, Vivienne stirs in her bed across the room. I watch through hooded eyes as she yawns, stretching and then looking over at me.
Her eyes flicker to the sheets.
“Oh, shit. Your period started, didn’t it?”
I swallow thickly. The words are lodged in my throat .
She doesn’t wait for my answer—she’s already throwing back her covers and rushing toward me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. There are supplies in the bathroom. You take a shower, and I’ll do the laundry.”
I should tell her the truth.
I don’t.
Instead, I let her assume.
I force myself to stand while she comes closer to strip the bed. I catch her lingering gaze as she does so. Her eyes skim over my arms, my collarbone—pausing longest on my lips. Before she can say something that’ll make me feel worse, I head to the bathroom.
The mirror doesn’t lie.
My eyes are red with burst capillaries.
Bruises broom across my skin—Silas’ cruel fingerprints all over me. Faint scratches trail down my arms. My bottom lip is dark and swollen. There are purple marks around my mouth, shadowy marks left behind by his tie. I touch the mark lightly, wincing. It’s warm and angry like all the other bruises and marks on my skin.
Yet he promised me forever—and I want that more than anything else. An engagement is one thing, but a man who truly wants me? That’s more than I would have ever asked for, and still the Lord blessed me with it.
Though things might not have happened exactly the way I wanted them to, it’s still a victory. Last night sealed my place at his side. He was wild, untamed—but most all, convicted. So what if it hurt? Mary accepted the Lord’s offer, even though being unmarried and pregnant would ruin her reputation; Esther risked her life to save her people; even Jephthah’s daughter died to uphold her father’s promise to the Lord.
None of those women had to do what they did, but they chose to because of their belief. They chose to do it for a cause greater than their own personal benefit. They chose to do it for the Lord. And last night, I made my own sacrifice.
When Silas gets down on one knee before me, I’ll say yes. He’s promised to always want me, and my mother will finally see me for who I am—a daughter she can be proud of, one worthy of her love.
I focus on those thoughts as I wince toward the bathroom. Those thoughts strengthen me, helping me to ignore the throbbing pain as I scrub my skin under a stream of water that’s hotter than it should be. I watch pink-tinted water swirl down the drain, and for a brief moment, I wish I could disappear just like that.
But I still have to face the world, because now more than ever, I have to put my best foot forward. It was a private moment between Silas and I, but it was still against school rules. I can’t let anyone know what truly happened, no matter how much I trust them. I’m wrapped in my towel, detangling my wet hair when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
“I’m bringing your sheets to the laundry now,” Vivienne says. “Did you find the supplies?”
I sigh quietly. “Yes I did,” I lie. “Thanks so much, Viv.”
“You’re welcome Eden,” she says. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m always here for you.” Her voice drops an octave. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Why would she say that? Did she notice the bruises? Her question comes off heavier than it should be. I push the idea of what she might be thinking out of my mind, and go back into the bedroom the moment I hear the dorm door close.
In my closet, I search for something that will cover up as much as possible. I put on a turtleneck the color of my blazer underneath my uniform.
Then I work on the bruises and marks. Concealer on my face, powder to set it. Heavy eyeshadow and winged eyeliner to draw attention there. Lipstick that matches the color of the wound on my lip. By the end of my routine, I look perfect.
I don’t have an appetite, so I skip breakfast. Vivienne offers to bring me something to eat, but I decline. Instead, I sit on my bed, kneading my fingers and watching the clock until it’s time for my classes to start. I just want this day to be over.
My phone buzzes.
Silas:
How are you, love? Missed you at breakfast.
I stare at the message for a long minute—debating how to respond. My heartbeat starts thumping in my throat. I can’t tell if it’s fear or the last bit of adrenaline seeping out through my skin. I just know I have to reply.
He expects one because he deserves one.
Eden:
I’m doing okay. Just wasn’t hungry. How are you ?
He responds quickly.
Silas:
Amazing, actually. Last night was the best night of my life. I can’t wait to have many more with you for the rest of our lives.
I linger on his message, warmth gathering in my chest. For the rest of our lives . So his promises last night weren’t just empty words. He means it.
I have it in writing.
Eden:
Neither can I.
And just like that, my future is secure. What I came to this school for has become mine. Now, all I need to do is keep my plan on track.
I shove my phone into my pocket and pick up my backpack. Taking a deep breath, I take one last look in the mirror before I leave. I look perfect.
I feel perfect.
I think.
I get through my classes in a daze, floating through the motions, taking copious notes. I answer questions in the lectures—my voice light and calm; even though I feel a bit detached from reality. I’m not sure why, though. Making it through the first half of the day made me realize just how easy it is for me to pretend like everything is okay, even when I’m uncomfortable. That’s the only thing I could ever get right in my mother’s eyes.
I end up skipping lunch too.
My appetite is still gone, and somehow, I’d rather not see Silas while I’m in this state. He’ll know something is wrong with me instantly —and I don’t want him to feel that somehow this is his fault. So, I spend lunch hour laying in bed—on fresh sheets, staring up at the ceiling.
This is what it feels like for a man to become yours. Eleanor told me that her first time hurt too. Some time to myself will help me feel better.
My phone buzzes.
I pick it up to see a reminder notification.
Lit Project Meeting with Lucian at the Library.
I groan.
I totally forgot about that.
Forcing myself upright, I root through my bag to find the book he had scrawled his number in. I think we got enough done last night in the rose garden. If I don’t feel like seeing Silas, I definitely don’t want to see Lucian.
Eden:
Let’s skip today.
I watch my phone until he responds.
Lucian:
Why? We need something to show for our next class.
I exhale slowly, kneading my forehead. He’s right, and I absolutely hate that.
Eden:
I’m not feeling well. We can use the notes I took in the rose garden.
An instant response.
Lucian:
I need the credits to graduate. As long as you’re not dying, I’ll see you in 15 minutes at the library.
Heat gathers in my head, blooming into anger.
Why can’t he take no for an answer?
It’s absolutely audacious of him to assume that he can summon me whenever he pleases. I spend a few minutes grumbling to myself about just how uncouth he is.
But I end up getting out of bed anyway.
I’m going to go to the library and let him know that he doesn’t control me. I can and will do whatever I please. If I don’t want to work on the project with him today, then that’s my right. It’s not my fault that he waited until his final year to take this class.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way to the library.
It’s not a far walk from my dorm—thankfully, because I’m still sore.
The Augustine Academy Library is like stepping into another world. One untouched by time, the air thick with the weight of centuries-old knowledge, carefully preserved. The towering shelves are carved from dark mahogany, stretching impossibly high. The spines of the books catch the dim, flickering light of the chandeliers above.
Even the smell of this place is intoxicating in its own way—a deep earthy blend of parchment, aged leather and ink, with the faintest hint of candle wax and polished wood.
It’s quiet here, but not empty.
Pages rustle, the old leather chairs creak, students whisper; punctuating the otherwise reverent silence. As I make my way further in, I realize that even the air has a different taste—like dust and knowledge, ink and candle smoke, like something sacred and forbidden.
Again, I’m reminded why this place is a Holy School. There’s so much wisdom in here. Time bends, the past breathes through every shelf. Wisdom doesn’t just exist in this library. It’s felt in every second you spend here.
“Everything alright, dear?” The school librarian’s saccharine voice rings through the silence. I turn, giving her a small smile.
“Yes, thank you. I was just admiring it all. I’m new, and it’s my first time here.”
She chuckles, closing the book she had been reading.
“I felt the same way when I first came here.” She looks around, pleased. “Truthfully, it’s why I took the job.”
“I would do the same. It’s all you can read.”
We share a slight chuckle.
“I’m Agnes Pembroke, by the way,” she says, her sharp eyes studying me. “And you are?”
Agnes.
The name suits her.
There’s a quiet authority about her. She’s tall, with an almost regal posture, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a strict bun. She wears a high-collared blouse the color of the sky at dusk. If it weren’t for the smile lines on her face, I would have thought her to be a much more severe person.
“I’m Lady Eden Lockhart,” I say.
She tilts her head ever so slightly. “You look so familiar, Lady Eden.”
“Perhaps you’ve seen me somewhere in London. My family attends the Kingsbridge Cathedral.”
Agnes smiles. “Perhaps. Your father attended Augustine?”
“Oh, yes,” I smile. “And my mother too.”
She gives me a polite smile. “I think that’s it. Viscount Lockhart.”
“You knew my parents?”
She simply nods. “I used to attend Augustine myself.” I didn’t expect that. “We moved to Scotland after my husband inherited his father’s estate. I work here to fill my days.” Her smile grows. “Running a manor? Not my forte.”
Another warm laugh. I can’t place it, but Agnes feels like a friend.
For the first time, my interest is piqued about the story behind my parents and their time at Augustine. My mother tells anyone who will listen that this is where they met. But how did he court her? What were they like when they were here? Is it anything like me and Silas? I’m about to ask Agnes some more questions when Lucian walks in.
He lingers beside me.
Agnes glances at him, then back at me.
Before she can make any assumptions, I say?—
“We have a project to work on.” I offer a smile. “But I’d love to come back and talk some more.” My excitement is evident. “I have so many questions.”
“Of course dear, you know where to find me.”
I look up at Lucian, who is just standing there, watching our exchange.
Out of respect for Agnes, I don’t roll my eyes at him.
I walk to an empty desk, and he follows.
Lucian gives me an easy smirk, sliding into the chair across from me. His commitment to looking like he just rolled out of bed is impressive at this point. The tousled hair, the crumpled uniform. I have to at least give him credit for that.
Life must be so simple in his mind.
Ignorance is bliss, after all .
“Didn’t think you’d actually show.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you give me a choice?”
He leans back, putting his hands around his head—he isn’t wearing a blazer today, so his tattoos are on full display, his bulging biceps staining against his shirt. “I did, actually. I said as long as you’re not dying.”
I look away from him, furrowing my brows. “I am five minutes away from dying.”
Humility.
That’s what upsets me about Lucian.
There isn’t a lick of it in his body. It’s one of the most important qualities that a man of God must possess. And aside from the fact that he’s such a sinner, he thinks too highly of himself. And for what reason?
“You don’t look very sick,” he mumbles.
“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” I shoot back. “Let’s just work on our project so I can get back to my life.”
Plucking my notebook out of my bag, I start flipping the pages to where we left off. Lucian looks unconvinced, but doesn’t say much else.
Instead, we start discussing Les Misérables .
We trade thoughts, analyzing the themes. He’s sharp—annoyingly so. He’s doing so well, it’s obvious that he’s actually read the book. Probably more times than I have. He’s pulled out nuances that I hadn’t even noticed. I’m taking notes, but he isn’t.
“Shouldn’t you be taking some notes?”
Lucian smirks, tapping the side of his temple. “I’ve got it all up here.”
With a huff, I prop my hand up on the table, leaning on it while I continue scribbling. I bite the cap off my pen, thinking of what else to include .
“What else is there?”
When I look up, Lucian’s smirk has turned into a frown. His emerald gaze is fixed on my cheeks. I lower my eyebrows.
“Stop staring at me, it’s quite rude.”
His entire demeanor has shifted. That’s when it hits me—the bruises. The lighthearted ease that I’m used to is gone. It’s been replaced with something harder, colder. He’s got his elbows on the table now, leaning forward.
Before I can say anything, his hand lifts slightly—his thumb brushing against my cheek, just below the bruise from Silas’ tie.
I flinch.
He freezes.
His green eyes darken. “Who did this to you?”
I swallow hard, touching the bruise myself. Makeup comes off on my hand. It’s on the back of my hand too, where I had been leaning against it. “It’s nothing.”
He doesn’t look convinced. He won’t take his eyes off me— studying, thinking, like I’m a character in Les Misérables. I look away, keeping my eyes low.
The silence is growing uncomfortable until…
“You’ve been ignoring my texts, love.”
My heart stops.
I’d know that voice anywhere—it was whispering against my skin a few hours ago. Lucian looks over my shoulder. His expression grows even darker.
I turn slowly.
Silas stands a few paces away from us. I didn’t even hear his footsteps, I was so caught up in my conversation with Lucian. Heat snakes down my neck, and my fingers and toes feel numb from the anxiety swirling to life in my chest.
Silas isn’t looking at Lucian .
He’s looking at me.
I shouldn’t have come here.
There’s no air in the room—the tension is suffocating.
Lucian doesn’t move. Neither does Silas. I’m caught in a minefield. One wrong move and there’ll be an explosion. Silas steps forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I suppose you haven’t been using your phone much?” Silas asks, his voice deceptively calm. I’ve been around ticking time bombs before—I was raised by Viscountess Evelyn Lockhart after all. Like my mother would be in a high tension situation, he’s poised, standing tall with the aura of a man full of strength, power, patience. He looks perfectly composed to me.
But his eyes give him away—they always do. His stare is harsh, cold, calculating. He’s never looked at me like this before, and it has my stomach doing backflips.
I swallow. “No. I’ve been working on this project. For English Literature.”
“With him ?” His gaze flicks to Lucian, then back to me.
Lucian exhales sharply through his nose, leaning back in his chair like he’s forcing himself to relax. “I didn’t choose her. The teacher did.” I can’t believe he said that—but I’m so grateful for it. Lucian’s saved me a world of explaining.
Silas’ smirk is razor-sharp. “How kind of her. To pair Eden with an eldritch creature like you. Was she hoping that some of her good qualities would rub off on you?
Lucian doesn’t take to the bait.
But there’s an aura rolling off him. It’s dark, simmering beneath his calm exterior. I would call it dangerous, if I thought Lucian capable of that sort of thing. I can feel Silas’ eyes on me. Then suddenly, the tension snaps .
“You should go, Lucian,” Silas says. His voice is smooth, but firm.
Lucian tilts his head. “We’re not finished.”
“ She is now.”
The numbness spreads through my whole body and I’m starting to float away. Watching the interaction from above. I can’t believe Silas caught me alone with Lucian. In a public place, of course—but the optics are terrible. How do I salvage this?
They stare at each other for a long moment.
“Do you want to go, Eden?” Lucian turns to me.
Silas folds his arms. “Don’t put ideas in her head, Beaumont.”
Lucian’s lip twitches, but there’s no humor behind it. Instead, he looks more upset than I’ve ever seen him. Watching this face off between them…it’s too much for me. I let out a sharp breath. I know where my priorities lie, and it’s not with a man who looks like he snuck on campus. I’m exhausted.
“I’ll see you in class,” I murmur, gathering my things.
Lucian watches me without a single word. He doesn’t respond.
When I stand, Silas places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the entrance. We walk past Agnes, who nods at Silas, giving me a polite smile.
Even outside, he’s still quiet. We just keep walking. He’s upset though—I can tell. The displeasure is rolling off him in waves, and rightly so. I hadn’t told him that Lucian was my partner, nor that we would be working so closely together.
Silas promised me forever. I should have let him know that I’d be spending so much time with another man, even if it’s just for class.
“I don’t like you around him.”
His steps have slowed. We’re standing beneath a grove of trees, tucked away from the students bustling to and from their classes. I clutch the strap of my bag a little tighter.
“But you don’t have much choice, do you?”
I nod quickly. “It’s for school, nothing else.”
His grip on my waist tightens, even as his face grows more relaxed. “I understand, love.” He leans down, his mouth by my ear. “I’m more concerned about why you haven’t replied to my text messages…and how you managed to do such a terrible job of hiding your bruises.” He cups one of my cheeks.
My eyes widen, my hand rising to touch his. I pull my turtleneck higher on instinct. I can’t find my words for a bit.
“I needed some time,” the words slip out before I have time to think them through.
His eyebrows lower.
Wrong answer.
“So you chose to spend that time away with that heathen ?”
I knead my forehead. “No. I only met up with him because we have a project.” I hold on to his forearms, pleading. “And the makeup—I should’ve gone back to my dorm to reapply it, I really didn’t intend for anyone to see…”
“I don’t care that much, this time.” He’s displeased. Eighteen years with Evelyn Lockhart as a mother, and I’ve become so attuned to it. “Next time, tell me where you’re going. And as for the bruises, I don’t mind admiring my handiwork. Just consider what others may think.”
I look up at him, sucking in a deep breath.
Silas continues, his voice is less harsh now. “What we have is special and hard to understand. You must be a good steward of the gift God has been kind enough to bestow on us. Many people go their entire lives without finding the person they’re meant to love for an eternity.” He smirks. “You understand, love?”
I nod. “Yes, Silas.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Good girl.”
His lips linger, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through me. His hands remain wrapped around me—possessive and unyielding. The tension in my shoulders starts to ease. I melt into him, breathing a sigh of relief—taking in the musky scent of him. I don’t know what I was thinking this morning.
It’s probably because it was my first time…
“What you’re feeling is confusing,” Silas mutters against my skin. “That’s why I want you to talk to me. I’m here for you to rely on.”
My face is nestled in the crook where his arm meets his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Last night. It was intense.” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that I’ve never heard before. “Truthfully, that’s why I came looking for you. I didn’t spend enough time with you after. I wasn’t there to help you through your emotions.”
I stand up straight, but he refuses to meet my gaze.
“No, Silas…” I shake my head. “It’s not like that at all.”
“Then what is it like? I found you in the library with another man. I saw him touch you, Eden. I can’t even be sure that you aren’t confiding in him.”
The memory flickers to the forefront of my mind. The moment Lucian saw the bruise, his energy shifted—everything about him went dark and cold. If Silas hadn’t shown up, I’m not sure how the situation would have played out.
“I think he was surprised,” I say.
Silas is glowering. “I don’t want you around him. I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t want him to even touch you.”
I swallow thickly. Is this jealousy? We’ve committed ourselves to each other as best as we can without marriage. There’s no way that Silas could really think Lucian is a threat. He doesn’t set my soul on fire the way Silas does, doesn’t consume me, possess me. And I quite like the idea of being so precious to someone that they’re willing to pledge their devotion to me for the rest of our lives.
Silas shakes his head sharply, then lets me go to knead his forehead with both hands. He lowers his head, muttering something to himself. When his eyes find mine again, they’re red. His fingers press lightly against my throat, tilting my chin up.
Slick wet heat gathers between my legs as memories of last night start to bloom in my thoughts. I’m still aching, but the pain twists into something different the longer I look at him. Silas looks a lot like last night— hungry. For me.
“I don’t like being made to feel like a fool, Eden.”
“It won’t happen again,” I say. “I’ll always let you know where I am.”
His eyes darken. He leans in, his voice low, his lips ghosting against my ear. “I know you won’t make me feel this way again, love. We belong to each other.”
Goosebumps pebble my skin, my nipples turning into stiff peaks. Silas loves me, I’m sure of it. Last night proved it. He pulls back just enough to look at me fully. He rubs his thumb over my lips, smearing my lipstick. He gives me a lopsided smirk.
“You still feel me, don’t you?”
I do.
My entire body still aches from him .
I nod, and his smirk grows wider, curling with satisfaction. He presses a kiss to my bruised lips, running his tongue along where he bit me. I let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of his jacket.
“It’s too bad you can’t show these marks,” he whispers. “Everyone who looks at you would know exactly who you belong to.” He is grinning now. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give you something soon that’s more…socially acceptable.
He runs a finger along my ring finger.
I try hard not to let my excitement show. I was right about last night. It was the right step to take to secure the future my parents expect of me. He’s already taking steps to make sure I know that I’ll be his forever.
I close my eyes as he presses another kiss to my lips—this one softer, more passionate. He exhales, giving me a taste of his minty breath.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Eden.”
My heart clenches.
This is what I wanted.
I’m getting exactly what I wanted.
So why do I still feel like I’m floating away?
When I get to my dorm, I sit in silence on my bed. Vivienne isn’t here, but my soiled sheets are now clean and folded in a pile on the edge of my bed. I keep reliving the past few hours.
Lucian’s strange demeanor after touching my cheek.
Silas’ jealousy, his need to marry me sooner than later.
My own body, still aching from last night.
I’m trying to make sense of it all when my phone buzzes.
Lucian:
Meet me after lunch tomorrow. I’ll text you the location later.
I hesitate.
I should say no—but I need to pass English Literature, and unfortunately my success is tied to Lucian right now.
Eden:
Okay.
I’ll make sure Silas knows ahead of time.