Prologue
Nox
Flashback…
Therhythmiccreakofleather and the clatter of hooves against cobblestone had become a soothing backdrop to our night of indulgence. Or should I say mine?
Alice, with her fiery-red hair cascading over my shoulder, matched the carriage’s rhythm as she shifted in my lap, her lips trailing playful kisses along my jawline. Thorne, across from me, wore a roguish grin beneath his tousled brown locks as Clara giggled, perched precariously atop his knee.
“Careful,” I teased, as Alice’s hand wandered dangerously close to the button on my trousers. “We have an audience,” I murmured in between kisses, but her eyes glinted with mischief under the dim glow of the carriage lamps.
Sheenjoyedan audience.Mmm, I chose wisely tonight.
Our laughter mingled with the jostling of the carriage, the carefree sound a stark contrast to the silent world outside. Then, without warning, the carriage lurched violently, throwing us against the plush velvet interior. Alice’s lips left mine as we were rattled by the abrupt stop.
A man’s scream—a sharp, terrified sound—pierced the air, then fell into a deathly silence that seemed to swallow us whole.
The coachman.
“What the hell…” I muttered, my heart hammering in my chest as I gently removed Alice from my lap and quickly fixed my disheveled clothing. My fingers fumbled with the fabric, the former haze of pleasure now replaced by a creeping sense of dread.
Thorne’s eyes met mine, reflecting a confusion that mirrored my own. I went to open the door, prepared to investigate.
“I’ll come with you,” Thorne said, his usually poised demeanor now slightly ruffled as he swept his hair back from his forehead.
Clara was shaking like one of those little dogs. I thought she might faint with how pale she was getting.
“It’s okay,” he told her, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
“Everything will be sorted shortly,” I reassured them both before nodding toward the door, indicating for Thorne to follow.
“Let’s check on the driver,” Thorne suggested, his face etched with concern.
I stepped out first, my boots meeting the gravel road with a crunch that was too loud in the quiet of the night. A shiver ran down my spine, not from the chill in the air but from the eeriness that the fog brought, wrapping around my ankles like a needy cat.
The moon hung low, partially veiled by the mist, casting a glow that barely penetrated the thickness of the fog.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I scanned the tree line, silhouettes of the branches twisting into sinister shapes.
Thorne followed suit, stepping into the gloom with Clara’s hand gripped tightly in his. Her other hand clutched at the delicate fabric of her gown, pulling it up to avoid the damp ground that threatened to stain the hem. I glanced at Alice, whose lips were curved in an unsettling half-smile, her eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. She moved with a grace that seemed amiss with our situation, her calm demeanor strikingly odd against Clara’s visible distress.
Eccentric tastes and fearless? Could the woman get any more attractive?
“Stay close,” I whispered, my voice barely slicing through the heavy air as we huddled together.
We moved forward with cautious steps, the ladies trailing behind us. A sense of foreboding settled in my stomach, the kind you can’t quite shake even when you try to tell yourself it’s unwarranted. The feeling only grew as we rounded the carriage, our eyes searching dim shapes in the foggy woods.
The coachman’s bench was empty and even the horses seemed restless, their snorts and stomping of hooves adding to the eerie dread.
“Where is he?” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.
“Maybe he had to relieve himself,” Thorne added, and I scoffed.
“What man screams when he needs to relieve himself?” I said.
Thorne chuckled.
Cutting through the silence, a sound reached us—a gurgling one, wet and desperate. Thorne and I exchanged a glance before looking towards the source, past the edge of the road where the forest began.
