Phoenixfall: A Reverse Harem Romance (The Rogue Witch Book 2) Page 4

  If you would be so good as to put on the dress. I do hope it fits. Once you are properly attired, with the shoes in the armoire, and the pearls on your dressing table, then you will descend to the drawing room. I will await you there with further instruction for tonight’s gathering of some rather familiar faces.

  With every affection,

  Evangeline Llewellyn

  I closed the noted, fighting the urge to rip it up. If there was one word I had to use to sum her up it was probably ‘extra’. Evangeline Llewellyn was so extra that she would’ve bled pumpkin spice latte all over the floor if she cut herself. Of course, she’d sign her full name on the letter. As If I didn’t know who’d sent it! I gave the clothes on the bed another glare and then turned to my dressing table. What I saw there made me stop in my tracks.

  It was the string of pearls. My fingers went to my throat and, for a moment, I could still feel the small, creamy beads digging into my skin as Creston pulled and tugged at them.

  She must have had the necklace repaired when I left.

  A faint feeling passed over me. I couldn’t wear them. Just looking at them made me feel gross, the memory of his breath on my cheek, his hands pawing at me like he owned me…

  I shrugged out of my sleep clothes that I’d schlepped around in all day, not worrying about the good opinion of my family members if they happened to see me. I tugged the silk and lace underwear up my legs. They were a little loose, and I felt a tickle of resentment in the back of my throat. The bra too, sagged in the cups. Did she think I was a heifer? Sure, I was curvy, curvier than her and my sister combined, but still… a lifetime of sharp, cutting remarks about my weight came back to haunt me and I steeled myself against them.

  What the fuck had I done? Maybe I should have listened to the guys and heard them out instead of running from them. The worst they’d ever done was demand I do the impossible and make them a heartstone. At least they’d never pinched my upper arm and told me that they looked like stove-pipes.

  I yanked the dress on, and thankfully my mother’s over-estimation off my weight meant my breasts weren’t entirely turned into two squished loafs of bread against the straining fabric. Still, the crew neck felt tight even if it wasn’t. I ignored the pearls, pulled on my hose and slipped into the pair of demure, black flats that set off the deep, burnt orange of my dress. If ever there was a gown to make me look washed out and pale, this was it. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and froze. My hair was still in limp curls. My mother would have a fit. Did it even matter?

  My gaze wandered to the window, with its small hint of brass nails holding it shut. I went to the bathroom to fix my hair into a loose, messy bun that I could pass off as ‘stylish’ if I got grilled about it.

  The flats were new, pinching my toes in their pointed ends as I walked down the stairs to the drawing room. It was adjacent to the living room, a smaller sort of parlor where my mother entertained her lady-guests when my parents had a big party. As I entered, I held my breath, prepared for anything.

  “Darcy Evangeline,” my mother greeted me, as she sat on a velvet settee, her arm cast along the back of it as if she had no cares in the world. I took her in with my eyes, trying to find the changes the years must have brought to her. My father had some extra silver and looked more worn… when Evangeline Llewellyn smiled at me, her eyes barely crinkled at the corners, and her soft blonde hair showed no signs of silver or gray.

  Maybe she was just fucking lucky, but I had a feeling that she’d been doing a little potion-indulging. Magics for beauty weren’t exactly okay, but sexist husbands looked the other way when their pretty wives cast them.

  “Mother,” I said stiffly, not sure how to greet her. After my confusing reunion with my father the night before, nothing felt like it made sense anymore.

  She got to her feet and embraced me. The scent of her perfume clung to her, power and vanilla, almost like a child’s first perfume really, and I tried not to cough. She pulled back and kissed me on each cheek.

  “You look lovely, but what’s this? No makeup?” She asked as she touched my chin. I let her, struggling to not pull away when her thumb and forefinger dug into my flesh just ever so slightly.

  “I wasn’t sure what tonight would be like,” I said, sweeping my eyes down. She had never been one for outright punishments, that had been left to my father and his crackling, sparking left hand. But she found her own way to mete out pain even if it was only with words.

  “Well, you’ll have to change that, because our guests will be arriving soon.”

  “Guests?” I stepped back as she let go of my chin with a pat on my cheek.

  “Mmm, yes, the Hailwards, of course, are coming. It’s been an age, and your sister is positively overjoyed to see you again.”

  My mind spun back to seeing my brother-in-law, and his comment that his younger brother would be happy to see me again.

  “Um, Mom,” I ventured, because my need to know overrode my desire to hide that I was scared to even ask. “Is… Creston…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the words wedged in between my teeth and refusing to move. My mother fluttered her hand and laughed, a tinkling sound like rainbows had to make when they hit water’s surface.

  “Oh, yes of course, my dear. You must miss him quite terribly. It is so good to have you home again,” she finished her sentence in a hush. “I did miss my dear one so badly, and you are my baby, my sweet, little… girl…” She approached me again, and something about how she reached for me made me want to step back. I did and looked around the room, pretending to take in the decorations and furniture.

  “Did you redo things in here?” I asked, as if Ming vases and Pakistani rugs were at the top of my interests and hobbies. My mother laughed again, although this time the sound was strained, folded down.

  “Yes. Your father is ever so generous with me when it comes to my small little entertainments. I redid everything a year ago, to celebrate the anniversary of your sister’s wedding to Kenton. You would have loved the gala we held, Darcy Evangeline, my sweet.” She swept away from me, picking up a plush little throw-pillow, made of pleated velvet. Her fingers stroked along with the nap of the fabric and she sighed. “We did miss you, darling.” She looked at me over her shoulder, her smile like glass, fragile and transparent.

  “I… I had better put on that makeup,” I said weakly. She gave me a slow nod, more of a dip of her upper body and I turned, almost running before she could say anything else. It was like she wasn’t even real. She didn’t feel real, like some sort of shadow of who my mother could have been, or the memories I’d had of her. I did my makeup with shaking hands, not ready at all for the night ahead of me.

  It was going to be bad. I just knew it.

  Six

  Darcy

  It was every bit as painful as I’d imagined it. I missed being on tour. I missed being in a cramped, small tour van, listening to Finn’s soft rumbling purr, Ace and Charlie arguing, and Cash flipping through radio stations until he could find nothing but static in between. I was out of place, more than I’d ever been. My parents had invited quite a few guests over, not just the Hailwards. The highlight of the evening had been my sister seeing me again after so many years and nearly fainting into her husband’s arms.

  Then, Creston, hovering behind them both, came out of the shadows to embrace me as if I hadn’t lit up his balls like a Fourth of July firecracker the last time he’d seen me. I tried not to shove him away because the weight of everyone’s eyes were on us. This moment would be the measurement of which my family was judged. Could the prodigal daughter, having run away and gotten up to no good (I’m sure the rumors were already spreading no thanks to my brother-in-law and the rest of the Hailward family) truly return to the fold and behave herself? Or would she embarrass her family and shame the Llewellyn name all over again?

  It’s not that I cared what they thought, really, it was the threat of punishment if I did anything wrong that night. My father and mother’s warm greetings a
side, I felt like the guillotine was above me, sharp and glinting in the dark. They were waiting, carefully, for the right time to cut the rope. My back itched the entire time and I spent most of the dinner part of the evening pushing food around on my plate. Creston was sat opposite me. He did nothing to help how uncomfortable I felt. He was leaning on his hand, elbow on the table.

  It was the height of bad manners.

  Nobody remarked on it and my sister gave him an indulgent smile as the dessert course made the rounds. She placed a few extra chocolate truffles on his plate. He grinned at her and winked. It was a weird interaction, and when he caught me looking, he smirked, his tongue darting out to lick over his lower lip.

  I wished I knew how to excuse myself, or if I even could. When his eyes strayed down my face to my neck, which was bare of pearls no matter how much my mother had smile-grimaced at me, I decided to screw conventional table manners.

  “Excuse me,” I murmured to a Hailward cousin who sat beside me, a few branches down the family tree and not anywhere near inheriting the council seat. I pushed past her, ignoring her slight gasp as I got up from the table before my father had.

  I was freshly back from mundane society. They could fucking deal with it. Dinner sat heavy in my gut, the little I’d eaten of it, and I made a bee-line for the bathroom out in the hall. The cool marble walls stole the warmth from my cheek when I shut the door and pressed my face against the smooth polished stone.

  Breathe. I needed to just breathe. The problem was, I didn’t know my next steps. My cellphone was gone and there hadn’t been a chance for me to even bring it up with my mother. I almost didn’t want her to know that I knew they’d taken my phone.

  My eyes slid shut and I focused on the soft inhale and exhale of my lungs.

  The door behind me swung open. I whirled, grabbing at the edge of the bathroom vanity.

  Creston smiled at me.

  “Hey, Darcy,” he said. My eyes were glued to his face, but I heard him shut the door behind him, and the click of the lock as he turned it. My heart went to my throat, beating hard and fast.

  “Creston,” I said weakly. I felt so faint. Why did my legs feel like melting wax? I’d spent three years on my own, being an adult, living my own life, and in the face of my attacker it was like I was nothing, a bit of fluff for him to grab right out of the air.

  He reached for me and I flinched back.

  “Don’t be like that,” he laughed, his voice low. I sucked in a mouthful of air.

  “Don’t touch me,” I replied, hating how my voice was breaking. I sounded so weak. I was weak. He grabbed a handful of my curls on the side of my head, tugging them out of the bun, not even bothering to hide the pure malice that was clearly simmering inside of him.

  “Don’t touch me,” he mocked, his voice high. I crumpled when he pressed up against me, freezing. It was just like last time… it was happening again… I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think even as my mind whirled around and around. The door was locked. No one would come if I cried out… they didn’t care last time he’d hurt me… “I’ll touch you if I damned well want to touch you, Darcy,” he hissed, his breath hot with alcohol. He slammed my head back against the marble wall, and pain exploded behind my eyes, white sparks crossing my vision.

  I gasped, stumbling despite how his body pressed into mine.

  “Fucking bitch,” his mouth was moving against the side of my face, “you fucking ran out. I could’ve put up with you being a frigid little cunt, but then you ran and made me look a joke.” His fingers were ripping my hair. I needed to get out.

  I had to get out. I brought my hand up, but he grabbed me by the wrist and twisted my arm back. A squeak of pain escaped my throat, and he laughed at me.

  “What’s wrong, Sparky?” he asked, the pet name he’d had for me back when we were kids turned twisted in his mouth. “Can’t light up? Go on. Light me up. Do it. Your father’s just waiting to take you down a peg. So am I.” He licked his lip again, like he’d done at the dinner table, and a shudder of revulsion ran through me. He mistook it for arousal, or… something that wasn’t me fighting back vomit. “That’s right, sweetheart. You better learn to like this, cause pretty soon, this is all you’re gonna know.” He leaned in closer, impossibly closer, his mouth hovering over mine. “Then when your parents are gone, it’ll be me sitting in the Llewellyn council chair, just like I deserve. Won’t be second son for long, given that you can’t inherit the seat yourself. So fucking what if the kids have to take your name in order for them to sit on the council after me…” His gaze slid down my body, like hot oil, sticking to my skin and making me feel filthy. “I’ll have fun getting and keeping you pregnant, so you can’t ever run away again. You’ll give me a son even if it’s the last thing you do.”

  His mouth covered mine. It was so rough, his tongue slick with alcohol and nearly choking me with the scent of it. He shouldn’t have been drinking… no one should have even served alcohol that night… we weren’t supposed to drink…

  Panic rose up in me, and finally my muscles unlocked as my fingers wrapped around a small, ceramic soap dish on the vanity. In a single move, I brought it up and smashed it on the side of his face. He jerked away, his fingers going to where I’d hit him.

  I didn’t wait for him to make a sound or reach for me. I shoved the door to the bathroom door open, nearly running into my sister in the hall. Eva’s eyes were impossibly wide in her thin face, giving her the look of a skeleton staring at me.

  “Darcy,” she sounded as startled as I felt. Behind me I heard a grunt, and Creston’s unsteady steps. “Is everything alright?” She gasped, and covered her mouth, staring behind me. I didn’t wait to see. I pushed past her and bolted up the stairs, retreating to my room. It was the one place I felt safe, at least in the horror show that I’d put myself in.

  All I could think was I’ve done this to myself.

  Seven

  Finn

  Another day, another show, another night, another nightmare. Darcy, sprawled out, her throat torn, her blood on my hands as I stood over her.

  “It’s what we do,” my father stood next to me. “We kill them before they kill us. She’d do it, in a heartbeat. Rip you right open with her powers. You did good, son.”

  I couldn’t breathe, shaking as her blood pumped sluggishly down her chest, and pooled on the ground. Her limbs twitched, and for a moment, I thought her eyes moved and focused on my face.

  “Finn!”

  I growled as someone shook me, and I nearly punched Ace but he bounded back a few steps just in time. My chest was heaving, and my body was soaked in sweat. Ace watched me, his eyebrows pinched together. Behind him, Charlie slipped down from his bunk, Cash’s head poking out from the queen bed that lined the roof of the tour van. My twin, Eli, wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “You woke us up, man, with all that growling,” Charlie said, although he didn’t sound that resentful.

  “Right, sorry,” I said, grabbing the blanket that I’d curled under. Using it to wipe the sweat from my face, I shivered for a moment and threw off the dream. I’d never hurt Darcy. Not ever. Not even if she tried to hurt me first. I’d… I’d let her. I’d let her do anything. I loved her, even after she’d left us. Ace crossed his arms and cleared his throat.

  “Well we’re here. Do we wanna load in or go get something to eat?” Ace asked, sounding more and more like Charlie. He was starting to take on some of those responsibilities, especially since Darcy wasn’t around to take care of the little details for us.

  “I’m good,” I said because I didn’t want food. The last thing I wanted right then was to eat, especially not meat. I pulled out a fresh shirt and jeans for the day and got dressed, ignoring the stares the other guys were giving me. The side door to the van pulled open and Eli stood there.

  “Hey, Glory Rev just got in,” he said. “They’ve asked if we want to go eat with them.” I growled, and Eli glared at me. “Aaron feels bad. I think he’s trying to patch shit up wit
h us. We should take them up on it. It’s good for the band.”

  “Dean cooks bacon like nobody’s business,” Cash said, doing a backward summersault out of the ceiling bed and making the whole van rock when he landed. He stretched and rubbed his belly. “I could eat a whole fucking pig.”

  “You are a fucking pig,” Charlie countered, shoving him. Cash laughed and pushed back. Their good mood didn’t touch the ice core inside of me but I tried to smile, especially when Ace shot me a concerned look. The band deserved me at my best, and even if I couldn’t get there completely, I’d try.

  “Oh, what the hell.” I swallowed down my feelings about Aaron. “Let’s do it.” Eli grinned at me, relief in his face. I had been sulking around like a giant, mopey asshole. Maybe it was time I start to… not get over Darcy but just… come to terms with where we were. She wasn’t with us. She might never be with us, but I could think about that later. For now, right now, she wasn’t where we were. That was okay.

  I was fooling myself but was for the best.

  After we dressed and I rinsed my head off under our solar shower, Chelsea Sawyer, herself, greeted us at the door of the Glory Rev bus. She leaned up to kiss Charlie on the cheek, a smile on her face. There was something… weird about Chelsea. I couldn’t quite place it, but it had me squinting at her sometimes. Maybe it was the fact she pretty much never left the bus, no matter what, unless we were all at a rest-stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Then she’d step off and stretch her long legs and shake out that thick mane of platinum blonde hair of hers.

  The other guys didn’t act weird, so maybe it was just me.

  “Hey guys.” She grinned and tugged on Charlie’s wrist. “Dean cooked up a pile of bacon as tall as you, Charlie, so c’mon. Let’s eat.”