Page 42 of Ashen Torment

My gaze wanders, and my mind returns to that day in the woods. The cold mud beneath our bodies, his breath far too close to mine. I can still feel the heat of his skin through our clothes, the spark in those silver eyes, the heavy weight of his body over mine.

A pervert who finds pleasure in the mud.

Without realizing it, I clench the invitation in my hands, the paper yields, crumpling.

“Viscount... would you like me to have another invitation prepared?”

“No.” I smooth the sheet with my hand. “He probably won’t even read it. Leave it be.”

I pick up the pen again, pressing the ink onto the paper with more force than usual. I fold the sheet and seal it; in the silence, the image of that arrogant man flashes through my mind.

For a moment, I imagine crushing his head under the seal.

What a good feeling.

I feel a shiver between my thighs.

“Are you sure? It might be better to...”

“I said no.”

I push the invitations away, one slides to the edge of the desk and stops halfway. I spread my hands, my fingers brushing the polished wood for an instant before letting them fall. I look out the window: the gardens stretch out in a dark green, the flowerbeds orderly, but the sky above them is gathering threatening, heavy, low clouds.

It’s going to rain.

“Bring me one of those flowers.”

“Viscount—”

“Bring me one, Étienne.”

I hear him step back a few paces.

“As you wish.”

Once Étienne has left, the door closing behind me, I bring a hand to my temples, massaging them slowly, trying to loosen the tension weighing on my nerves and my thoughts.

I must get up.

The floor creaks under my steps as I approach the shelf that holds my books. My fingers trace the spines of the volumes, scanning them one by one. Then I stop, my hands linger on a tome darker than the rest, its deep blue spine flecked with golden letters.

The Age of Fable; or, Stories of Gods and Heroes.

I pull it out carefully and lay it on the desk; without hesitation, I grasp the thick, braided silk cord of dark burgundy and pull. The polished brass knob tinkles.

The silence lasts only a few moments before a light step approaches.

“Viscount.”

“Marie,” I say, “did Dr. Norton come today?”

She lowers her eyes slightly.

“I was at the Pavilion the entire time, Viscount.”

I tap my fingers on the book in front of me. “Marie, do you know if he came?”

She shifts her gaze to the side, hesitant. “I heard from Miss Emily that he paid a visit to the Viscountess.”