Her heart pounded in disbelief.
"Why did you lie?" she hissed at the maid across from her. "I didn't tell you I was Miss Duvall. You assumed, remember? Why didn't you tell them that?"
"I'm sorry, truly," she whispered. "But you don't understand—Mrs. Thorne can ruin my life. I need this job."
"Ruin your life? You realize I was nearly killed because of you, right?"
"I'm sorry," the maid repeated.
"Please," she begged. "Just tell them the truth. My mum's probably losing her mind right now—please, just—"
"What were you even doing here, anyway?" she demanded, suspicion cutting through guilt.
"Alice! Where is the girl?" Benedict's voice boomed.
"Here, sir," Alice called out.
"Seraphina!" Benedict blurted, eyes widening in disbelief.
Relief crashed through her. "Oh, thank God! Someone who knows me. Please—please help me!"
"What the hell are you doing here?" His gaze darted to the maid, then to the door. "Oh my God, this is bad. This is very bad."
"Who are you?" she demanded, confusion thick in her voice.
He straightened. "I'm a friend of your mother," he said quickly. "Benedict."
"Please—you have to believe me. I don't know what's happening. She—" she threw a glare toward the maid "—she took me to Mr. Blackwood's room and locked me in. I didn't impersonate anyone, I swear."
Benedict turned to Alice. "You did what?"
"I–I didn't mean—"
"Enough."
Benedict exhaled as he knelt beside Seraphina. His fingers moved to the rope at her wrists.
"The only thing I can do for you now," he murmured, "is inform your mother."
Seraphina's breath came out shaky.
"Mr. Blackwood wants you here until we can confirm you aren't… pregnant."
"Pregnant?" she repeated, incredulous. "Are you serious right now?"
Benedict simply nodded toward Alice. "You'll get her the morning-after pill."
"Yes, sir," Alice stammered, eyes fixed on the floor.
"Hang on—one second. Pregnant?"
"Yes," Benedict said. "Mr. Blackwood wasn't in his right senses when… whatever happened, happened." His eyes flicked to her face. "Why in the goddess's name did your mother send you here?"
"She hurt herself. She can barely move around. We needed the money."
"She could have called me," he muttered.
"You're a werewolf," she said before she could stop herself.
"What makes you say that?"
"You said goddess," she replied. "Only werewolves pray to her."
"Smart girl." He reached out, brushing his thumb carefully near the small cut on her forehead.
Before she could speak again, another voice drifted through the doorway.
"Oh, you poor thing." Claudia entered. "Who did this to you?" she asked sweetly, her gaze slicing toward Alice. "Did you do this to her?"
"No, ma'am," Alice blurted. "It was Miss Duvall."
"I'm so sorry, dear." She approached Seraphina, fingers brushing a lock of hair from her face. "What's your name?"
"Seraphina," she managed.
"Ben, get the room ready," Mrs. Blackwood said, already turning to the butler. "And make sure it's properly heated. It looks like a storm is coming."
"Of course, Mrs. Blackwood," Benedict said, motioning sharply at Alice.
"Come, sit," Mrs. Blackwood murmured, her cool, elegant hand curling around Seraphina's arm. "Let me take a look at that cut."
Seraphina allowed herself to be guided to a high stool by the counter.
"Mrs. Blackwood, I just want to go home," she whispered, hugging her arms to her chest. Her body trembled from the strange electricity that had been following her since she'd met Eric.
"You will, dear," Mrs. Blackwood said softly. "Just until my son calms down. He's under a… lot of pressure."
Mrs. Blackwood turned back to the counter. She opened a small cabinet and retrieved a bottle of spirit, cotton wool, and a tray. "Hold still," she said, pressing the cotton gently to Seraphina's wound. The sting made her wince.
When she finished cleaning the wound, she tilted Seraphina's chin upward.
"You'll rest upstairs, darling," Mrs. Blackwood said.
The Blackwood staircase curled upward. The same staircase she had been shoved down hours ago. Now, the memory of that fall echoed with every cautious step she took behind Mrs. Blackwood.
Her legs ached, and her pulse was a small, frantic drumbeat under her skin.
"Could you do me a favor, dear?" Claudia asked. "Could you lie on the bed and prop a pillow beneath your legs?"
"Of course," she murmured, managing a polite smile. "But… why?"
Mrs. Blackwood's lips curved faintly. "To help with the dizziness, darling. You lost a bit of blood."
Seraphina could only nod. Before she could ask more, the door opposite Eric's door opened, and Benedict stepped out.
"Go on in, sweetie," she said.
Seraphina obeyed.
The room was warm. A storm wind pressed at the window. She could still hear the murmurs outside — Benedict's low voice blending with Mrs. Blackwood's tones.
She sat on the bed, doing as instructed. The mattress yielded beneath her. Her eyes fluttered closed. She told herself she'd rest just for a moment, until she could figure out her escape plan.
The darkness that claimed her was not merciful.
It began as heat. Pain licked through her chest, spreading outward. Her ribs ached. Her skin tingled. She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't obey. Her body felt trapped inside itself, pinned by invisible hands.
Her heart galloped. The world behind her eyelids bled into colors — silver, red, white — spinning so fast she thought she might be dying. And then came the burn. It crawled up her throat until she could barely breathe.
Seraphina's scream tore through the silence.
She jolted upright, gasping, her breath ragged as the last echoes of that unbearable heat shuddered through her.
Then she realized she wasn't alone.
Her nose brushed against warm skin. Her hand landed on the broad plane of a man's chest, and the deep thrum beneath her palm told her exactly who it was before her eyes even opened.
Eric Blackwood.
He sat at the edge of her bed, his hand gripping her arm. His touch was possessive.
Her body melted into his.
And then —
"It won't happen again," he said. "No matter how hard you try."