Page 45 of Marrying Bluebeard

She pulls the ring of keys out and grips them in her fist, uncertainty playing across her features. “Distance alone won’t be enough to break Celeste’s hold.”

The keys are so close, I’m half-tempted to reach through the bars and grab them. But if I fail and scare Louise off, I’ll be right back where I started. “You’re right. Proximity is only one of the chains binding Adelaide’s mind to the tower. The other is Celeste’s venom in her blood. If I can draw it out, Adelaide will be freed.”

“Of course. No ordinary person could remove it, but you—you’re Mistress Celeste’s favored creation. If anyone could do it, it’d be you.” Louise starts to take a step forward, only to reverse at the last moment as her lips curve into a derisive smile. “So that’s your plan. Interesting.”

No. Something’s wrong here. Louise has never looked at me with such cold indifference. As if I’m nothing more than a spider to be crushed beneath her boot. “Louise, please.” I temper my voice to keep from shouting. “Unlock the door.”

The keys twirl around her finger with a mocking jingle. “I’m afraid I cannot, Monsieur. The master has forbidden it.”

My hands grip the bars as the control I’ve kept on my simmering anger threatens to break. “I am the master of this estate, Louise.”

“If you truly believe that, Monsieur, you are nothing more than a fool.” The smirk she gives me makes me want to tear those traitorous lips from her face and shove them down her throat. That she’s right only makes it worse. “Now,” she drawls, giving me a pitying look. “Why don’t you be a good boy and drink the pig’s blood your wife has so graciously allowed you to have? I’m sure she’ll let you out eventually. After all, the way she delighted in feeding off your Adelaide this evening, I doubt the poor girl will last more than a fortnight.”

Metal bites into my palms as a wave of fury surges through my chest, but my voice remains cool and collected as I meet her gaze. “Last chance, Louise. Free me now, or live your remaining days knowing that I will kill you. And it won’t be quick.”

A flicker of fear darkens her eyes, but she lifts her chin, lips curling into a snarl. “Mistress Celeste would never allow it.”

“I don’t give a fuck what your mistress allows,” I growl. “I’m done groveling at that wretched creature’s feet.”

“You—”

Her words are cut off with a sharp yowl, and she screams as the hand clutching the keys is shredded by razor-sharp claws—ones only I have the ability to see. While she whips about in a frightened panic, the same invisible claws slicing her ankles to ribbons, I drop to my knees to retrieve the ring of keys that have slid under the bars courtesy of one surprisingly vicious ghost cat. I have the door open before Louise even realizes she’s dropped them.

The dawning look of horror on her face when she sees me standing on the wrong side of the bars brings me more joy than I care to admit. But it isn’t nearly as satisfying as the sound her neck makes when it snaps, or the velvety way her blood coats my tongue as I drain every last ounce from her body.

Dissolving the final shreds of my humanity.

Licking my lips, I drop her emptied corpse to the floor and meet the languid gaze of my feline savior. “Well, I guess her death was rather quick. I stand corrected.”

Whisper blinks up at me, unamused.

“Right, then.” I wipe a rogue splatter of blood from my cheek. “Let’s go rescue our lady.”

29

BERTRAND

The halls are deathly silent as I follow Whisper through the castle, aided only by the slivers of moonlight cutting silvery threads across our path and the faint glow of white emanating from the feline’s spectral form. It’s as if even my past wives have ceased wailing as they hold their breath, waiting to see what happens next. They’re no doubt praying for my demise. A victory I would happily grant them, if it was within my power.

But it’s not, and Adelaide is still trapped in this prison.

Faint music breaks the silence, the haunting notes of Beethoven’s twenty-seventh opus beckoning me toward the conservatory. Whisper glances over her shoulder as she approaches the wide double doors, her solemn gaze sending the silent message I’m already well aware of: our lady waits on the other side. Do not fail her.

The cat nudges the door, her visage fading into nothingness as she disappears through the solid oak. I rest my hand on the doorknob, heart pounding while the music reaches a crescendo. A part of me longs to linger here, resting my head against the door and listening. Soaking her in. But time is of the essence, and the fresh blood coursing through my veins won’t last nearly as long as I’d like.

It’s now or never.

Pushing the doors open wide, my gaze swings to the piano set in the far corner of the room where Adelaide sits in a sleeveless nightgown, her midnight hair loose and tumbling about her shoulders while she plays. Her eyes are closed as I approach, her fingers flying over the ivory keys with a gusto that emphasizes what I love about her: her vibrant fire and the subtle compassion that lies beneath it. She is a movement all on her own—a Sonata in white lace.

I position myself behind the bench, resting my hands on her shoulders as she finishes. Waiting for that final note to fade before I speak.

“That was beautiful.”

She twists around on the blue velvet cushion, tilting her face upward with a beatific smile. “Bertrand! I missed you today. When you left the garden this morning, I worried.”

“Just a bit of business I’d suddenly recalled,” I murmur, cupping her cheek in my hand as I look her over. She’s pale, even more so than before. My fingers slide to her neck, where a red silk scarf has been carefully wrapped. It mocks me with its brazen hue, the message behind it clear. Celeste has marked her territory.

My hand shakes as I pull it off, the crimson fabric slipping free and pooling on the floor as I stare at her neck. Fresh punctures mar the porcelain skin, and my body trembles viciously as my worst fears are confirmed: Celeste has been feeding off my bride.