Her eyes softened. "The curse will break someday, love," she whispered, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. "We just have to be patient. We just have to survive until then."
When she left, the room felt too still. Eric collapsed backward onto the bed, the sheets cool against his fevered skin. The ceiling above him spun lazily. He dragged a hand down his face, cursing under his breath. His erection throbbed mercilessly, a humiliating reminder of his mother's manipulations.
*****
By the time the bus hissed to a halt at the Blackwood stop, her stomach had tied itself into a knot tight enough to choke a bird. She gave the driver a polite smile and stepped down. A narrow road curved through dense woodland, branches brushing against the sky, and she followed it, each step heavier than the last.
Everyone in town had a story about the Blackwoods. Some claimed the family had dabbled in curses, others whispered about dark pacts with forces no sane person would name. Lycanthropy, demons. But none of it mattered as much as the figure at the center of it all: Eric Blackwood, the last heir, the recluse.
Sera reminded herself that she and Eric weren't so different. Both trapped in their own ways. She exhaled through her nose, trying to calm the rising pulse in her chest.
The estate came into view at the end of the winding road. Her mother's words played over in her mind: Do not go inside.
When she reached the massive front door, it swung open before she could even knock. A maid stood there, posture immaculate, face carefully neutral.
"Hi, miss," she said briskly.
Sera swallowed. "Um, hi. My mum sent me. I'd like to see—"
"Oh, right, come with me," the maid cut in without a glance back, already pivoting on her heel.
Sera blinked. "Excuse me, my mum said not to—"
But the maid didn't slow. Her heels clicked as she led Sera up the stairs and down a corridor that seemed impossibly long.
"Come on, miss. Mr. Blackwood is waiting," the maid said.
Mr. Blackwood? Her pulse jumped, hammering in her ears. Her mother had said nothing about meeting the heir himself. Only the butler.
"Is Benedict in?" she asked carefully, lowering her voice.
"Not at the moment," the maid replied smoothly, eyes straight ahead. "He took Mrs. Blackwood to a clinic nearby. Emergency. I was given specific instructions to ensure you see Mr. Blackwood."
"But—"
Her protest dissolved as the hallway stretched out before her. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back.
The maid stopped at a massive door at the corridor's end. A small, glinting key appeared from the pocket of her apron. The lock clicked open with a crisp, mechanical precision.
"Are you sure this is where—" Sera began.
"Just go in, miss. He's expecting you."
Before she could respond, the maid gave a gentle push to her shoulder, and the door closed behind her with a solid thunk. The turn of the lock reverberated through the quiet room.
"Um… hello?"
Her gaze darted across the space. And then she saw him.
Eric Blackwood lay on the bed, sunlight catching the fine strands of his hair in a way that made him seem almost unreal.
Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp.
"Uh… hi," she said again, trying to be casual, trying to sound unshaken. Neither worked.
"Excuse me… excuse me, sir. Mr. Blackwood?"
The figure on the bed didn't move. Panic flared through her chest. Oh God, is he dead? she thought, heart hammering. She took another careful step closer, examining the perfect stillness of his form. Even in repose, he seemed impossibly beautiful.
His hair was swept back casually yet flawlessly, falling in precise strands that framed a face she didn't have words for.
Her hand shook as she lifted it toward his neck, fingers hovering.
Then, without warning, his eyes snapped open. Sera froze. Their color was impossible to place—grey, silver, blue—all at once, shimmering. They fixed on her with an intensity so piercing that her breath caught halfway out. Before she could react, his hand shot forward, closing around her wrist with surprising strength.
He pulled her toward him, and she stumbled gracelessly onto his chest. Her legs tangled awkwardly against the bed, her arms flailing as her body collided with his. The warmth radiating off him was immediate.
"Mr. Blackwood?" she stammered. His gaze trailed slowly down to her lips, and Sera felt her knees go weak. Then, in a moment that seemed to defy the laws of propriety, he leaned forward and kissed her.
Shock stole her breath. Her mind scrambled for logic, for a reason why this was happening. She tried to push away, to create some kind of barrier between them, but his grip didn't loosen. Her body shifted instinctively, and in doing so, she realized the unexpected pressure pressing against her stomach.
Her eyes widened, frozen mid-breath. Oh God… is that really what I think it is?
She was nineteen, reasonably experienced in theory—books, films, whispered conversations—but this was nothing she could have predicted. Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.
"Mr. Blackwood, I—this is—" she stammered, trying to regain control of her voice, her hands braced helplessly against his chest. His fingers pressed into her back.
Before she could push further, he silenced her with the softest, most intimate brush of his lips against hers again. Her body betrayed her, responding in ways she hadn't consented to.
"Let me go!" she cried.
He growled low. Before she could comprehend, he shifted with terrifying grace, spinning them so her back hit the sheets.
"Stay still," he murmured, breath hot against her neck. "Isn't this why my mother brought you here?"
Sera's mind reeled. "Your mother?!" she gasped, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of the words. "Wait, what are you talking about?" Her stomach twisted in panic. She had been sent by her mother, to see the butler, to secure the payment. Nothing about seduction or… this.