Chapter 9
“Iwish to see my cousin,” Caroline stated, trying her best to sound authoritative.
The maid lowered her head and said nothing as she set a tray of cold meats, breads, and sliced raw vegetables onto the dusty table by her room’s fireplace, and then left.
The room had been as cold and dark as the rest of the house, but having lived on her own, Caroline made quick work of starting a fire for herself, and now at least the room had a dim light.
As the storm raged outside, she searched the dusty side tables and walls for candles or sconces, but found none.
Then she went to bed. Just like everything else, it had a thick layer of dust. Feeling restless, Caroline picked up the comforter and shook it out, coughing as clouds of dust erupted into the air.
What has happened to this place?
This was not at all the house she remembered from her childhood.
The one that her father used to bring her to in the summer to visit her cousins.
It was a ghost of what it once was. Just like her cousin.
Though she missed Elara terribly, she was suddenly glad that her best friend was not there to see the state of the once grand home.
Or the state of her once-grand brother, either.
For even though she had not seen Evander yet, Caroline was certain that he would appear as bleak and empty as the very house they were in.
After shaking the dust from the bedding, Caroline wandered over to the plate of food. She looked at it as she picked up the glass of water, and though she took a sip, she decided she was not hungry, but curious.
She and Evander had not necessarily been close, but he had always been kind to her. The least she could do now, she wagered, was check on him. Thank him for letting her and Damien stay the night.
She opened her door with renewed determination and stepped into the darkened hallway, only to collide with something hard face-first. Pain erupted in her nose, but she was more distracted by the feel of familiar hands banding around her upper arms and steadying her.
“Careful,” Damien’s deep voice rumbled through the quiet. “It is unfortunate, but they are not very fond of candles around here.”
Caroline’s racing heart calmed at the sound of his voice.
In the back of her mind, a voice urged her to remind him of her rule.
She should tell him to let her go, if for nothing else, to stop the warmth spreading through her body from his touch.
Then suddenly it was gone, and with it the warmth his large hands provided in the cold, dark space.
“No touching,” he murmured, his shadowed form taking a step back. “Right.”
“Right,” she breathed.
Feeling more awkward than ever with no light to see, she wrapped her arms around herself to suppress a shiver.
“Why is there no light in here?” she asked. “There were not even candles in my room.”
Damien let out a weary sigh from across her.
“Your cousin prefers the darkness at present,” he replied. She caught the smallest bit of sadness in his tone; an emotion she was not used to hearing in his voice.
“How is he?” she asked.
In the dark, she made out the shape of Damien shaking his head.
“Not well,” he rasped.
Sorrow plunged through Caroline as she thought of her oldest cousin, Evander, sitting in this large, empty, dark home with no one but a couple of servants.
“I want to see him,” she said, but Damien sharply replied, ‘No,’ with a quickness that had her taking a step back.
Damien’s form reached out, as if he was about to pull her back to him, then with a quiet sigh, he dropped his hands.
“He is not... ready to receive visitors at the moment,” Damien explained, again with that hint of sadness she was so very unused to seeing from him. “He is trying to work through what he has been through. He needs more time.”
“He needs his family,” Caroline argued.
“You mean as you did?” Damien countered, cocking his head. “Oh, wait. You ran away as well. Surely, you can understand him.”
Anger unfurled in Caroline’s chest at the comparison, but as she opened her mouth to retort, she found she had no right to deny his words.
“You would not understand,” she whispered, her nails biting into her arms as she squeezed them tighter.
“Why would I?” Damien asked. “I am just a beast, correct? No feeling, no understanding of pain.”
He was mocking her, she was sure of it, but Caroline wondered whether he wanted her to negate him. She could not, of course. She did not know him well enough to say otherwise.
“Leave your cousin be, for now,” Damien commanded, his authoritative tone renewed. “And go back to your room.”
Though she was sure he could not see her, Caroline glowered at him as she raised her chin.
“Or what?” she countered.
Damien’s step toward her was quick, and large enough so that in the blink of an eye, he was close enough that she could actually see the features of his face instead of just the shadow.
“Or I will keep you in mine and make certain that you cannot leave,” he growled.
His amber eyes, already barely visible in the dark, seemed to turn black as they traveled down her body.
“How pretty you would look with your wrists tied to my bedposts, little mouse,” he mused, his hot breath fluttering over her cheek.
An unusual combination of excitement and fear swirled together, traveling down her spine, making her shiver and shudder.
“You are shameless,” she seethed, stumbling back.
“Maybe so,” Damien murmured. “But you are still going to marry me when we return to London tomorrow.”
She pressed her hand against the wall, following it until she found the handle to her door again, then opened it.
“Even married, I will still not be yours,” she hissed. “And I will certainly never be in your bed.”
She stepped inside and slammed the door with all her might before Damien could follow or say another word. She gritted her teeth so hard that pain throbbed through her jaw, and as she began to pace the solemn, empty room, she could not help but wonder if she was making a mistake.
Perhaps I am.