4. Severin
Severin
Three months later—
Joy abounds in Penridge Manor as the servants gather around the doctor who has my wife’s hand in his, checking her pulse.
He’s here for her routine checkup, but everyone is always so worried about her.
After I took Fiona in the library during my heat, I continued making love to her for four days, keeping her in bed all the time, until my heat passed.
By the end of it, she had been bred, knotted, and thoroughly fucked.
It was only a matter of time before she got pregnant.
When the doctor arrived three weeks later, he confirmed the good news that put a smile on every staff member’s face.
“A new child in Penridge Manor,” Mr. Aldridge said, his white whiskers rising up in joy. “How long we have waited for this good news.”
“I will begin knitting clothes immediately,” Mrs. Holloway added, busying herself with preparing the nursery for our child. “Oh, the old mistress would have been overjoyed to know she’s to have a grandchild.”
Fiona was radiant, tired but ecstatic when the doctor left. She sat with me on the couch that afternoon, my holding her hand, her head tucked in the crook of my neck. “Are you happy?” she asked, touching her belly. “We are to become parents.”
“Unbearably so,” I told her, kissing her forehead. “I want you to have an easy pregnancy, and I promise I will take care of you.”
Then, we kissed, and made love, and every night since, I’ve been with her, in her bed, pleasuring her body with its growing needs, reading to her, spending time with her.
She was a scared stranger when she came to me, but over the weeks, she has bloomed into the lady of the manor, and as I sit before her, observing her slightly bulging belly after breakfast, the realization hits me suddenly—I am in love with my wife.
It has been building slowly, but the more time I spend with her, the more right she feels.
It’s like we were meant to find each other, to fit into the perfect rhythm.
She naturally compliments me, and being around her makes me feel grounded and happy.
The loneliness I used to feel before I married her has vanished entirely, replaced by the knowing that there is someone I now deeply care for.
“I have some more news for you, my lord,” the physician says. “The baby sounds healthy, but I’m afraid it’s going to be more than one.”
“Twins?” I ask, Fiona’s eyes widening with surprise.
“More like triplets,” he says, grinning. “Penridge Manor is going to get noisy.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news,” Mrs. Holloway says. “Three children. We haven’t had little ones here for so long.”
Fiona meets my eyes, and I smile.
“Three heirs instead of one. You really are a miracle.”
There’s a hesitation in her eyes, but she smiles. “I am glad you are pleased, my lord.”
I want to tell her that I love her, to quash the doubt and distance between us, but after the doctor leaves, Fiona goes to the bedroom to rest. As I watch my slumbering wife, I remind myself that tonight, I will tell her.
I’ll organize a grand dinner for my wife and tell her that she has won my heart.
The preparations for the grand feast are done by sundown. The dining room has been transformed, chandeliers lit, flowers filling the long table, the manor’s finest dishes on display. I ordered the staff to organize the dinner, waiting for Fiona to wake up.
“She is up, my lord, and getting dressed for dinner,” the housekeeper informs me. “Her ladies' maid will be done soon.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Holloway.” I am dressed in my finest coat, waiting for my wife, when I hear the commotion outside the gates. I rush outside, just as the door bursts open and the gardener comes in,
“There’s trouble, my lord,” he says, panicked, his clothes torn.
“What is wrong?” I ask, suddenly on alert.
“The villagers have forced their way into Penridge Manor, saying you kidnapped Miss Fiona, and they demand justice. They are carrying torches and weapons.”
At the sound of that, I instantly am on alert. “Tell Fiona to stay inside,” I say, worried for her safety as I stride out of the door to quell the rumors.
When I emerge at the doorstep, the villagers are standing, at least twenty of them, led by the rector. I recognize him instantly. He’s the man who tried to sell my wife to an indentured labor farm.
They let out a collective gasp when they see my snake tail, thick and imposing and long.
“So, the rumors were true. The Viscount is a monster. A monster who ate a human maiden.”
“I did no such thing,” I snap. “I am Lord Penridge, and you are on my land, slandering my name.”
“Where is Fiona Clarence?” the rector demands, stepping forward. His face is red beneath his collar, his jowls trembling with righteous fury. “Where is the girl you stole from the parish? We know you took her. We know you dragged her into this cursed manor and have kept her prisoner these months.”
I draw myself up to my full height, my tail coiling behind me, scales clicking against the stone steps. The torchlight catches the iridescent emerald of my scales, and I watch several of the villagers flinch back.
“She is inside, where she belongs,” I say, my voice low and controlled, though every muscle in my serpentine body is coiled tight with protective rage. “She is not a prisoner. She is my wife. The Viscountess of Penridge. And I will not let any of you touch her again.”
The rector’s face twists. “Your wife? You forced that poor girl to marry you. A monster like you? She would never willingly sacrifice herself in that manner.”
“Sacrifice? You were the one who forced her to work like a slave, leaving her no option but to come to me. I assure you, she’s well cared for here, treated like the lady she is.”
The rector scoffs. “My lord, you know what the cost of stealing a maiden from the village is. Our ancestors lived in peace, but it is conditional on your conduct toward our race.”
“I have done nothing untoward that would cause the ire of our ancestors,” I say. “Now, if you are done here, you may leave.”
I feel someone throw a stick at me. “Burn the monster!” Violent echoes fill my ears as two more torches come flying.
I catch them and throw them away, as the villagers begin to attack me.
I am unprepared for the attack, but my serpent is poised to fight back.
My tail uncoils, thick, scaled emerald skin rising up and slapping a group of villagers back.
They scatter like frightened birds, their torches clattering to the cobblestones, their faces white with terror.
My tail sweeps in a wide arc, and three more men go tumbling, their pitchforks and scythes skittering across the courtyard.
I bare my fangs, a low hiss building in my chest, and the sound alone sends the front line scrambling backward.
“Get back,” I snarl, my voice dropping to something ancient and inhuman. “All of you. Get off my land.”
They are breaking. I can see it in their eyes, in the way their feet shuffle, in the way the torches tremble in their hands. They came here expecting a monster cowering in the dark. They did not expect a monster who would fight back.
But I do not see him.
I do not see the rector slip around my side, his face contorted with hatred, a curved hunting knife clutched in his fat, trembling hand. I am too focused on the crowd before me, on keeping them at bay, on protecting my wife.
“Severin!”
Fiona’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, and my heart stops.
“Fiona!” What is she doing here?
My wife is on the steps, her copper auburn hair unbound and wild around her shoulders, her nightgown billowing in the torchlight.
She is dressed for dinner, her pale blue dress a contrast to her bare feet.
But it isn’t her auburn hair I’m looking at or her pale face; it’s the knife in her hand, the one she clutches, blood dripping down her hand.
The rector stands next to her, trying to attack me as she blocks him by holding the knife.
“No,” I roar. My heart drops. “Fiona!”
I turn in haste, using my tail to push the rector back and get to my wife. I hold her as the knife clatters to the floor, her palm cut and bleeding. I hold her hand, fury making me shake. “My dear.”
“I am all right,” she says, trying to calm me, sensing my rage.
“You are bleeding,” I say, grinding my teeth as I turn toward the crowd. I’m going to destroy the people who hurt my wife. They sense my fury and begin to run away, as the rector stands up, giving me a hateful stare.
The rector’s face contorts, his jowls quivering as he stares at my hands cradling Fiona’s bleeding palm. His eyes move from her face to mine, and I watch the disgust crawl across his features like something alive.
“Unhand her, you beast,” he spits, his voice shaking. “Look at what you’ve done to her. Look at the blood on her hands. This is what comes of consorting with monsters. You should’ve gone to work, just as I told you to.”
I feel Fiona stiffen in my arms. Her small body, so warm and soft against my scales, goes rigid, and I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer against the protective coil of my tail. Her blood is warm on my fingers, and the sight of it makes something savage rear up inside my chest.
But Fiona does not cower. She does not hide behind me.
She steps forward.