Page 2 of Dubious (Darkly Ever After)
I smack the back of his head, and Asher growls as he glares at me. Fine by me. Better me than her. Besides, I did him a favor. Can’t have him scaring the little thing before Mother puts her plan into action. Asher would be in a world of pain. Then again, he’d enjoy every ounce of torture I could muster up for him. My gaze roams to the vicious marks along his arm, and my conscience rears its ugly head, reminding me that they’re my fault.
I smile. “Don’t listen to my brother. He’s an idiot.”
Ella’s pretty green eyes land on me, and the ground under me splits open, sending me plummeting into the unknown. If I believed in the almighty, I’d be forgiven for thinking she was an angel sent down to ordain me as a prophet. Her lips turn up and her smile widens as if beckoning me to the heavens. I shake my head to clear my brain of her hypnotic spell.
Extending my hand, I reciprocate her warmth. “Hi. I’m Alaric.”
Mother clears her throat as Ella places her soft hand in mine, forcing me to add quickly, “Yourbigbrother.”
Ella blushes at my emphasis on “big.” What other parts of her body can I cause to blush so prettily?
River inches closer to her, blocking my view. He wraps his arms around her waist, hoisting her in the air before he twirls her around. Her laugh tinkles like melodic wind chimes. She seems so innocent and carefree. Part of me is envious—I never had the option of being carefree.
It’s too bad I’m about to destroy her dreams and drown her in nightmares.
ChapterOne
Ella (Three Months Later)
The ambiance of the house has shifted. The peace ordaining the walls has distorted into something else, something ominous. The joy I possessed is gone—destroyed and void of happiness.
My father is dead. His virile body now composts in the dirt with vermin while strangers surround me in the space that held his love.
Three months ago, my dad arrived with a strange woman and three men, introducing me to my new family. I worried about what those changes meant before chalking it up to my anxiety at sharing my refuge with virtual strangers. I did it for my father’s happiness.
Now my father is gone, and I’m alone.
I enter the formal dining room and see my new family seated around the dinner table that only held my father and me three months ago. If he were still here, it wouldn’t feel like a vise was clamping my throat, obstructing my words.
My stepmother sits at the head of the table.His place.She appears regal and aloof, a statue to be revered with darkness lurking beneath the surface. Her three sons surround her—a queen with her royal advisors and generals.
For the past three months, I’ve remained in the shadows, making myself small and unseen to ensure I don’t disturb the balance of my new family. My father deserved to be happy, and his new wife had achieved that if the way he’d gazed at her was to be believed.
“So nice for you to join us, dear. We were getting worried about you,” Celeste coos.
My father’s body is barely in the ground, yet there she sits, wearing a bright red shirt with her face perfectly made up. Her eyes are like lasers as she looks at me over the rim of her wine glass and tips the merlot to her lips. To a casual observer, she would seem uncomfortably giddy about the death of a man she declared her undying love for not a month ago.
“Sorry I’m late,” I whisper.
Cool hands drape over mine as I pull back my chair, sending a shock wave through my body. I turn to my left and fall into Alaric’s steel-blue eyes.
My heart is in my throat as he seats me. He bends forward, his warm breath prickling my neck and sending chills through my body. “Ladies don’t pull out their own chairs.”
His large hands rest on my shoulders, and I turn my head to see the tattoos etched on his fingers. One in particular catches my eye: a black raven flying over a river of blood. He got it a month ago, after a night we swore never to mention again. We’ve never spoken of it, but that night replays in my mind repeatedly. A perfect memory etched in sorrow.
Alaric smiles. “Can’t have my little sis not believing she’s the belle of the ball, now, can I?” His words are charming, but his eyes lurk, gliding from my face to my breasts and telling me that night is also present in his mind.
The staff rush out and place the various courses of the meal before us. My stomach becomes a brick, repulsed at the idea of consuming food when my heart is in a million tattered pieces.
I push my food around on the porcelain plate in silence, creating an illusion of enjoying the feast before me. I nod at statements made, not processing the words that reach my ears. Words resonate like white noise. I can’t focus on anything other than losing my anchor. The man who wrapped me in safety is gone, and the treachery of the turbulent ocean is no longer held at bay.
“Ella.” Alaric’s deep voice breaks through my musings.
I look up to see my three stepbrothers leering at me. I feel like a little rabbit surrounded by a pack of rabid wolves.
“I asked what your plans are now,” my stepmother says. “It’s been a month since your father’s passing. I’m sure you have plans in mind.”
A month? I’ve lost my only family, and this woman talks about my father’s death like he was a pet goldfish. “My father died, Celeste. Grief isn’t something you process quickly.”