SERA'S POV
I winced. "Great. Just great," I muttered, staring down at him. "How many times am I going to kill the man in one afternoon? Nice going, Sera. Real smooth." My chest heaved as I sat back on my heels, trying to catch my breath. My hands were trembling.
The room was a mess now. I swallowed hard, a strange ache twisting in my stomach.
"Oh, this is bad," I whispered to the empty room, pacing. "This is so, so bad." My gaze flicked toward the door.
I buried my face in my hands. "Fantastic," I groaned. "The one time she lets me leave the house, I kill a Blackwood."
For the second time that day, I leaned over him to check his pulse. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. His chest rose and fell in steady, powerful motions. He was breathing. Relief hit me and then, almost immediately, panic followed. Because if Eric Blackwood was breathing, then he was alive.
And if he was alive, then sooner or later, he was going to wake up — and I was going to have to explain why I had just assaulted the head of the most dangerous, most influential werewolf family in the city. The Blackwoods were more than rich; they were royalty in this part of the city. Werewolf royalty.
I straightened, heart racing. I knew he would heal. My pulse fluttered. Every instinct screamed at me to leave, to get out before he woke up and decided I wasn't worth the trouble of forgiving.
My mind spiraled — to my mother, to the fact that if the Blackwoods decided to retaliate, our lives were over.
So, I waited. To apologize when he woke up.
*****
DELILAH'S POV
I arrived at the Blackwood estate with my mother in tow, nerves thrumming under my skin.
It was my first time meeting him — Eric Blackwood. Just the sound of his name made my pulse quicken. To think my aunt had managed to secure this arrangement was thrilling beyond words. "Behave, Delilah," she whispered as we stepped out of the car.
"Smile, be polite, and remember why we're here." I rolled my eyes, smoothing down the curvy dress.
"Relax, Aunt Viv," I said softly. "I know how to make a good impression."
Vivienne had spent all night coaching me on how to please a man, and by the time morning came, I was practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation.
The maid opened the door.
"This is Miss Duvall," Aunt Viv announced, chin raised high. "I'm sure you know who I am."
The poor maid froze. Her eyes widened, the color draining from her face. "Miss… miss Duvall?" she stammered, glancing between me and my aunt. "Then who…" Her words trailed off into nervous silence.
"Will you quit all the mumbling and let us in?" Aunt Viv snapped. "Where is Mrs Blackwood? I have no patience for this kind of incompetence."
The maid stuttered, wringing her hands. "Mrs Thorne, I—I… there must be a mistake—"
Aunt Viv hissed in irritation, as she shoved the maid out of the way. "Where. Is. Mrs. Blackwood?" she demanded again.
The maid stammered, "She was informed of an emergency at the Blackwood Clinic and had to rush over. But…" The maid swallowed, glancing nervously toward the staircase.
"Then get me Mr. Blackwood," Aunt Viv ordered coldly.
The maid's gaze darted to me, then back to Aunt Viv. Her lips trembled. "Mrs Thorne… he is… with another lady right now. A lady who claims to be… Miss Duvall."
My stomach dropped. "What?" I rasped. This was supposed to be my moment, my one chance at being superior. I was supposed to carry the Blackwood heir, today!
The way Aunt Viv looked at the maid was not quite human. "Explain," she demanded.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Thorne. I have never met Miss Duvall." The maid wrung her hands. "The lady came in and said her name so I— I followed the instructions Mrs Blackwood left for me" she babbled on, words tumbling out. Her eyes were frantic, darting to the staircase, to us.
"I'm sure Mr Blackwood made the same mistake because the last I heard from his room—"
"Stop talking! Now!" Viv snapped. Her anger made the maid flinch as if struck. The woman's mouth snapped shut. "When Mrs Blackwood returns, I am going to personally ensure she fires you," Viv breathed slowly, "and oh… you will never get a job in any of the powerful houses… ever again."
The maid went pale, the color entirely drained as if Viv had squeezed it out of her.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Please forgive me!" The maid collapsed to her knees, palms pressed together in a public supplication. Her whole body trembled. Seeing that Viv wouldn't be swayed, her panic escalated — she crawled forward on the marble and, in a last-ditch gesture of desperation, reached for my feet.
It was humiliating and grotesque all at once. The maid's hands scrabbled at my shoe, fingers clumsy.
"Get off me, you idiot!" I snapped before I could stop myself. I yanked my foot back and the maid skidded backward, palms smearing the floor.
"How could you be so stupid?" I hissed. "How could you let someone steal my future like that?" I pushed off the wall. The idea of some woman masquerading as me in his room made bile rise in my throat. Was she pretty? Was she practiced? Did she laugh when Eric moaned my name when fucking her?
I wanted to tear through the house and find her, to claw and scream and reclaim every inch of what had been promised to me.
Aunt Viv's hand closed around my wrist. "Control your voice," she murmured. "Anger is useful when directed." Her eyes flicked up toward the staircase. "We do not beg for what is rightfully ours. We take it."
The maid sobbed into her hands.
"I am so sorry. I'll go up and try to get her out of there," the maid stammered. Her hands twisted in front of her. I could smell her fear. The maid's apology did nothing to calm the pounding in my chest. I felt fire crawl up my neck, the burn of humiliation laced with outrage.
Someone was upstairs, in his room, parading around as me—and this trembling disaster of a maid had just let it happen.
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