by M. C. Cerny
12
Adam
My ward was a curious little thing, and far too young for the things I had in mind. I didn’t need my houseguests thinking she was fair game either. What the fuck had I been thinking dragging Xavier, Helen, and their rando pet to the house in the middle of the night for an orgy. I’d been thinking with my dick and too drunk on my own power to see the error of my ways. What a mess I’d made of things. I taunted my father, missed an opportunity with my brother, and terrified my ward. I must have been coming down from my mania because actual emotions plagued me this morning in the daylight.
Kildare would have a field day reining this in.
“Nelson?”
“Mr. Huntley?” My house manager had a way about entering a room, quiet as a mouse and as sneaky as a rat. He stood at attention to the right of my chair, awaiting my orders. He was the furthest thing from London, but had no problem putting on airs when it suited him. All these years and his fake accent hung on tight.
“Call the dogs in, and have Elizabeth join me for breakfast.” I ran the tip of my finger over the rim of my cup. My fork pressed into the eggs slowly bleeding out the yolk and I enjoyed the soothing glug.
“And the others, sir?” he said, well aware of the state of my bedroom.
“Xavier and Helen know their way to the door. Show it to them if they linger, and make sure they don’t forget their pet. I don’t want them running into Elizabeth in the hallway either.” Nelson gave me a queer look, and I waved back dismissively, “The redhead,” I explained.
“Of course.” Nelson snapped his feet at attention and turned with militaristic precision toward the dining room door on his next mission. He got off on ordering my bed partners from the house as if he ranked somewhere above them in station. I thought he’d forgot the whole Boston Tea Party. It hadn’t turned out well for England then, and it wouldn’t turn out well for him now. It was in his best interest if he curbed his lording ways to the dogs and my ward.
I picked up the last piece of bacon and snapped it in half between my teeth, chewing the salty strip with relish. Someone had pilfered my pomegranate seeds and I had a fair idea who snuck out of their room for a midnight snack. I’d have to run a few extra miles on my treadmill for this and spend the next three days detoxing, but it would be worth it.
The dogs trotted in one by one. Beau held his head up regally, while Bear remained alert scanning the room. “Relax, boys. You’ll soon have a new friend to toss you sticks and sneak you treats when I’m not looking.” Gus, the friendliest of the bunch, wagged his whole body, leaning into my leg. His silky body vibrated, and I petted his head. If only people were as loyal and obedient as pets. They calmed themselves and laid in the sun of the window, anticipating Elizabeth’s arrival with me.
I waited ten minutes, sipping my cool coffee with disdain, when the door to the dining room edged open slowly. I put my coffee cup down, letting the bone china rattle against the saucer. I needed a manly mug and not this pretentious ceramic that threatened to snap between my indelicate fingers. A foot traversed into the room, and then a hand on the door followed by a body covered in a conservative dress that made her look at least five years older from the knees up, instead of the gangly, untouchable teen I knew her to be. Her feet were wearing soft Ugg slippers that didn’t match, but at least I knew she was comfortable for the moment.
Oh, Kildare was definitely going to earn his keep with me.
I waved her in. The dogs raised their heads, and only Gus whined to get closer if I let him. She stopped short, staring between us. I was sure it was odd, an asshole like me with dogs like this.
“Don’t be shy, Elizabeth. After last night, I fear there isn’t much of me you haven’t seen. I apologize, little bird.”
She snorted, and I figured all wasn’t lost. I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, but her shocked expression told me all I needed to know last night. She might have seen some horrible things in the lower ward, but she was definitely untouched.
“Only the ugly parts,” she muttered under her breath. I had a good mind to discipline her, but there was time enough for that. Humiliation would suffice.
“Sit. Eat. Let’s discuss the parameters of the house.” I nudged her chair out with my foot.
She sat motionless and stiff in her seat. I pushed my plate of half-eaten food toward her and waited for her to take a bite. Her fingers reached for the buttered toast. Elizabeth put it in her mouth, taking a small, teasing bite. In a few years, that action would conjure much different feelings, but for now, I remained focused on the task at hand. Devious thoughts were for another time and place.
“You have dogs,” she said between bites. I nodded, not feeling the need to explain. She wouldn’t be here long enough to become overly attached, but they were permanent fixtures of the house as she would be.
“Yes. Beauregard, Bear, and Gus. Six months old and already they’re rather protective, but I think they’ll like you in time.” I could tell Gus would follow her effortlessly. Beau would take the longest to warm up, and Bear seemed uninterested. “Don’t give them treats, and don’t let them on the furniture.” I had a feeling she’d defy those rules the moment she could. Gus was already wiggling from my side, closer to her, sniffing at her feet.
I reached for a gift wrapped in pretty paper. It would take time getting her on board with my plan. I wasn’t above subtle threats and manipulation, but it was exhausting all the same. This gift seemed fitting, and while it may have been laced in irony, my intent this time, the only time, was pure enough.
She chewed her bite of toast, swallowing it down. Her eyes stayed on the gift.
“What’s that?” Her brow furrowed in a cute scrunch that would become more lovely in time. Good food, hygiene, and medical care would see to the changes I demanded of her next.
“This is a gift,” I said.
My hand pushed the silver wrapped rectangle closer to her hand. I waited for her to take it and begin pulling the blue velvet ribbon separating the paper. She unfurled the shape from its casing, revealing a book. A first edition and rare collectible that had been in my library for years. If Nelson knew it came from a bona fide Lord’s manor in Surrey, it would’ve vanished from the shelf long ago. My house manager had sticky fingers for all things British, and if he wished to keep those fingers intact, he’d keep the kleptomania to things like scones and clotted cream.
Her lips pursed together, whispering the title.
The Secret Garden.
I waited for her to get the pun. I didn’t think she was slow on the uptake, but what did I know of fourteen-year-old girls anyway? Maybe I assumed her education had been superior to its grim reality in the public school district–we’d learn that soon enough. Anyway, I preferred boys of the adult variety and the occasional legal pussy. No. This was more about where she could and couldn’t go within the house and how I planned to enforce those rules moving forward.
“You’re giving me a book?” Her brow wrinkled.
“I assume you can read. Was I incorrect?”
I waited for her to elaborate, but all I got was her puzzled expression and my increasing frustration.
“Yes, Elizabeth. A book, but not just any book. The Secret Garden. I want you to know that while this is your home, there will always be doors better left unopened.” I tossed my napkin down on the table and pushed myself upward to tower over her. Hell, I’d finish the glass conservatory to the side of the house and imprison her in it to make my point.
She clutched the book to her chest like a newborn kitten she feared I might drown, or worse. She wasn’t entirely wrong either. I hated that she saw that defiled part of myself. The part that wished to sully her someday.
I leaned over her chair, forcing her to sit back and pay attention.
Enunciating each word, I said, “The next time you peek through doors not meant for your eyes, understand there will be consequences.”
Her throat bobbed, her eyes wide and wild.
“I’m sor
ry,” she mumbled looking down at the plate in front of her.
“You should be. Have you finished picking away at my plate?”
She gulped air down her throat instead of answering me. I stared at the top of her head until she nodded affirmatively. My hand reached to stroke her soft curls. She had no idea the patience I wasted on her.
“Now be a good girl and wait in your room. We leave at two p.m.”
“Leave? Where are we going?” she asked, glancing around frantically.
“You’re going to boarding school, my little ward. A nice holy little place in the Vermont mountains with French-Canadian nuns who like to use rulers for discipline. After all, a promise is a promise.”
“I thought that was later.”
“Later?” I asked, cocking my head in her direction and finding myself increasingly interested in her response.
Her bottom lip wobbled. Elizabeth touched her lips with short, ragged nails to stop the twitching movement.
“I thought I would get to say goodbye to my family.” Softly spoken, she glanced out the window, and I watched a lone tear streak down her pale cheek. If I didn’t get my brother, I didn’t see why she could have hers either; we were supposed to be in this together.
My medication must have been off or not all present in my system because I felt those damn emotions I hated instead of numb control. When the second tear stained her other cheek, I leaned in, hastily wiping it away. My hand shook from the touch as I rubbed the wetness of her tear between my fingertips. A strange sensation. I tugged a lock of her hair and pushed it behind her ear, forcing her face to tilt upward. Blue eyes glared back. Elizabeth would be trouble; I knew it, and I hated the surge of discomfort that squeezed inside the black hole of my chest. Somewhere there was a medical professional rolling over in his grave over my latest cocktail. Behavior modification meds were bullshit anyway, and with my diagnosis of chronic lymphocytic leukemia time wasn’t exactly on my side.
I cleared my throat to force the words out between clenched teeth.
“I’m your family, Elizabeth, and the only obligation you need to concern yourself with. We leave on time.” I excused myself from the dining room, leaving my ward to ponder the next few years of her future over eggs Benedict and cold coffee. She hadn’t earned the proverbial bacon yet. The ache in my body wasn’t from pain; today it was a growing seed of fear. This slip of a girl would not only become my worst adversary in this whole plan, but a rival for my brother’s affections.
This is just the beginning of Adam and Elizabeth’s dark tale. Check out the first chapter of Hunter and preorder it today.
Hunter - Chapter One
“Power is not given to you. You have to take it.” Beyoncé Knowles-Carter
ELIZABETH
Four years and a wedding…
Most girls my age fantasized about the happiest day of their life filled with flowers, pearls, lace, and fanfare. Maybe balloons, and evening fireworks, or a silly bet placed with their fiancé.
Not me.
I nursed a hangover, and an ulcer the size of Lake Champlain downing pink chalky shit to keep from throwing up the mimosa I’m not of legal age to drink. I dry heaved in the car. In the bathroom. In the basket next to the confessional amid tittering smiles of my hair and makeup team thinking I was excited for the night to come.
Apparently, eighteen year old virgins were a novelty.
Sequestered away with a bunch of nuns in the woods, I might as well have been in a Victorian novel. For the longest time, I thought my biggest threat had been bears. Boys were banned from the campus as well as my access to them–teaching staff included. I didn’t have friends at school, mostly because of the whispers of being Adam Huntley’s ward, now bride. I should have known, the biggest threat had always been the same.
The man himself.
I felt like the bride of Frankenstein and after reading so much fanfic, I kind of wish there was an alternative ending to my story–but there wasn’t.
My staff of wedding preppers speculated I might be knocked up by the dark prince. A baby. That was so far down on my list of things to avoid like the plague. I had ninety-nine problems, a baby wasn’t going to be one of them. Survival mode didn’t allow for anything else.
The flowers smelled cloying as if anticipating a funeral which was fitting-considering. I finally had a strand of pearls perfect for clutching. The shiny perfect gems of clam spit choked me. The lace itched like pins and needles. The only fanfare happening were the silent screams inside my head. Forget about the church filled with over three hundred gossiping guests. There wasn’t enough alcohol and opiates in the world to get me through today. None of my schoolmates from the last four years had been invited. Adam didn’t think they were worthy enough.
Adam.
Arrogant.
Asshole.
Adam.
It always came back to him. The man who would be my husband in just a few short hours. The man who had sent me boxes of inappropriate toys the last few months to prepare me for today. Did you ever see a shocked nun’s face after being caught googling anal play and butt plugs on the school’s moderated internet network?
Yeah, me either until about a month ago.
I didn’t know what the shiny purple plastic item with ridges was supposed to be until I searched the browser. I was shocked. Mortified. Oddly curious, but I would deny that to the death.
Adam’s hostility grew along with his snippy attitude since I finished my education at the all girls’ private school in Vermont. In a strange twist of fate, he likely planned all along, I didn’t stay at his house long before he shipped me north as close to the Canadian border as he could without validating my passport. I think he was secretly afraid I’d find a way across the border once the wounds in my feet healed.
For the first time in my life, I was grateful to be unwanted and found lacking. I missed my long walks on the rocky beaches of Lake Champlain, and waking up alone and safe in my single dorm room. It’s amazing what I took for granted in the last four years thinking and hoping he’d just forget about me. If I could stitch my eyes closed and never lay eyes on this man again it would be a blessing. Sure, there were a lot of rules I had to follow, but I didn’t have to worry about being violated until now.
The door slammed against the wall of the church’s bride room making me jump in my dress. Twenty pounds of lace and beading jolted with the threat of unraveling.
“Where is she?” My vapid attendants scattered like mice dropping hair brushes and makeup leaving me with the cat hunting its prey. I was a poor substitute for Cinderella. There was no golden light of hope in me. I was all darkness and despair, a shriveled up spring with dead overgrowth choking me. I moved behind a useless chair for protection against him.
On a deep breath, I forced a smile. Hades had arrived.
“Adam… you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” Cajoling him nervously did nothing as he stalked me from the mirror’s reflection. He paced looking me up and down. I beamed through the bile rising behind my lips. His tuxedo blacker than nightfall made him look like a dark prince ruling over us all, but I knew the truth was much closer to something derelict and demonic straight from hell. He’d finally come to steal the rest of my life. You’d find no fairytales here, and the only happy endings were hand jobs in back alleys if Adam’s bodyguards were telling the truth.
“I control my luck, Elizabeth.” He seemed extremely bothered by something and I didn’t ask. If the last four years taught me anything, my husband to be wasn’t big on clarification.
Adam believed his own words while I lived it in fear suppressing a shudder from my body. Swallowing back something cute to say, something I knew he wouldn’t appreciate, I sank down in the chair frozen like stone dabbing my lipstick, watching him from the corner of my eye. I may have looked like a common brown sparrow, but inside beat the heart of a hawk. My eyes tracked his movements in the mirror. He turned me into a predator lying in wait for the moment to strike
, or at least that was the bravado remaining from my hangover.
It killed me inside waiting. He paced with unsettled energy. Survival meant never taking your eyes off the hunter. No matter what Adam Huntley did to me, I would beat him at his own game and deny him the very essence of my soul. He thought I was his new toy, but I vowed right then to become the thing of his nightmares.
It was some straight up underworld fantasy shit that played out in my head over and over again.
I cleared my throat, my mind blanking out the darkness so I could proceed placating the beast. “What do you need, Adam?”
I reminded myself to remain passive; this wasn’t the time to argue back. The last thing Father Morely needed was a bride with a busted up face in front of three hundred of Adam’s closest friends and associates, none of whom would come to my rescue because I had always been, and would always be his property.
“You. I need you, Elizabeth.” His voice didn’t match his body language, but my body was primed. Years of training to respond as scared harmless prey ingrained in my muscles and bones.
“You have me, Adam. Always.” I smiled back watching him pace the confines of the stone room and stained glass windows.
“Do I?” His paranoia was palpable and bitter like the sour champagne in my drink.
“Of course.” Reassuring him was the only way out of this. I swallowed back the acid bubbling up. It was a miracle I didn’t have a permanent ulcer from all this stress and bullshit.
He leaned in speaking softly against my ear. “Today is my birthday, darling.” Dread filled me like lead in my veins and bones.