CHAPTERONE
LILLY
“Enjoy your honeymoon.”
A pained moan escapes my dry, cracked lips as I stir, my whole body feeling like it’s been hit by a double-decker bus. The dull ache in my head turns into a sharp stab, sending another deep, pain-filled groan echoing around me.
Blinking gritty eyes open, a screaming wave of panic rushes in when all I see is darkness. My heart thumps in my chest when I close and open my lids again, but I’m still surrounded by the endless black of my nightmares.
“H–hello?” I croak out, my voice a broken thing, rasping among the shadows. Clearing my throat and winching at the dryness, I try again. “I–is anyone there?”
My breathing stutters as I’m met by silence, a full body shiver skittering over me at the cold that surrounds my body. Pushing up onto my elbows, I have to pause as my head swims and throbs all at the same time. Bile burns the back of my already sore throat, but I manage to breathe through it, waiting for the nauseating dizziness to subside. Clenching my hands into the soft bed underneath me, I focus on the cool linen sheets until I can sit up fully with only a slight waver.
Pausing once again, I’m able to concentrate a little more and see that the room is not as pitch black as I first thought. Soft moonlight filters through the cracks of what looks like wooden shutters across the room.There must be a window over there.The hair on the back of my neck lifts at the eerie sight of undefined shapes around the room, the lighting casting everything in a sickly yellow glow.
Gingerly turning my still pulsing head, I can see the dark outlines of various bits of furniture; a large wardrobe and a dressing table with a mirror that reflects a ghostly image of a pale, frightened girl back at me. I quickly move on from the sight to see that I’m in a lavish, chunky wood, four-poster bed with heavy drapes.
A sudden kick in my lower abdomen causes my hand to fly over my bump, a whooshing breath of relief rushing out of me when I feel another movement. I’ve no idea what has happened to me, but the thought that something may have harmed my unborn child brings forth a wave of anger so fierce that spots blur my vision and I have to go back to breathing deeply to calm down.
Taking one final inhale, I steel my spine and slowly shift across the linen, the whisper of the fabric against my bare thighs a comforting noise in the silence.
Wait! Shit, I should be in my wedding dress…shouldn’t I?
Panic flares hotly inside me again, my pulse racing as I vaguely remember that I was wearing my wedding dress before…before everything went dark. Looking down, I touch the silk nightdress that kisses my thighs and furrows my brows as I try in vain to remember when I got changed. My hand clenches into a fist, wrinkling the fabric as useless tears fill my eyes, the memory eluding me.
Suddenly, a noise makes my head snap upwards, and I see the dark shape of a door across from me.
“H–hello?” I rasp, my chin trembling and hands shaking as I grasp onto the post and pull myself to standing. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
A hatch in the bottom of the door springs open, and I almost lose my grip on the wood as my muscles violently jolt, soft light flooding the room for a moment as a tray is pushed through before the hatch closes again. I curse myself for being a coward, even as my heart pounds in my chest.I should have fucking gone over there when it was open!
Taking a step away from the bed, testing how steady I am, I notice a set of drawers next to the bed with an ornate lamp sitting on top of them. Walking over to it using the side of the bed for support, I switch it on, flinching and close my eyes briefly against the light as a sharp pain lashes through my head. I wait for the throb to subside before slowly blinking my eyes open and taking in the room properly.
It’s decadent, with a beautiful, hand-painted bird wallpaper covering the walls, light walnut furniture, and cream and gold silk furnishings. The whole space reminds me of something out of a Jane Austen film, and only adds to the confusion.
Remembering the tray, I glance back over to the door and stare at the covered plate as if there’s a severed head underneath the silver dome.Fuck, for all I know, there might be.My body shudders at the thought, and I debate whether I can just leave it there, that is until hunger makes its presence felt in my empty stomach.
Giving a firm nod of my head—though no one can see my act of bravery—I straighten up and make my way shakily over to the tray. Stooping down, I take an immense breath, grasping the cool metal handle in my only slightly trembling hand.
“Don’t be such a fucking ballsack, Lilly,” I hiss, because we all know pussies are the stronger of the two appendages.
Decision made, I pull the lid off with a small, very lady-like screech, a self-deprecating laugh escaping my lips when I see that it’s only a plate of Welsh Rarebit—aka cheese on toast—with slices of cucumber and a bunch of red grapes. My mouth waters at the smell of melted cheese goodness, and I wonder how whoever made it knew that it was a favourite of mine. I’m not sure whether to be creeped the fuck out or comforted. I should probably be the latter.
Setting the lid on the plush, cream and gold Persian rug, I lift the tray and take it back to the bed, placing it on the top of the blankets and sit down next to it. Taking a piece of warm toast between my fingers, a pleasure-filled moan leaves my lips when the first taste of salty, melted cheddar hits my taste buds, and before I know it, the plate is clean and I’m licking my fingers.
I look around the room again and see that I’d missed a jug of water and a glass sitting on the table alongside the lamp. Taking the tray and placing it on the floor, I get up and pour a glass, glugging the cool liquid until that, too, is empty. Giving an almighty belch, the urge to pee hits me like a truck, and I desperately look round. Seeing a door next to the one with the hatch, I waddle-rush over there, trying to move quickly but not piss myself, as I hope with fanny flaps crossed that it’s a bathroom.
Opening the door, I thank all the gods that exist when I spot a toilet and make a beeline for it, doing a hop jig as I pull my knickers down and sit down. As I relieve myself, I look down to see that the knickers I’m wearing are at least the ones that Ash gave me on our wedding day.
Trying not to think about my fucked up situation too much and my pounding head, I wash up, my jaw cracking with a huge yawn. Making my way back towards the bed, another yawn that would make a lion proud takes over me, my body feeling heavy and sluggish as I drop down onto the soft mattress.
My vision goes hazy, and when my eyes blink open again, there's a dark figure framed in the now open doorway. My lids shut again, and I feel someone moving me tenderly on the bed, pulling the covers over my body, and smoothing my hair back before placing a kiss on my temple.
“Ash?” I ask weakly, but that can’t be right. There’s no spicy ginger smell. In fact, I can’t smell any of my guys, just a sharp, almost overpowering, cloying cologne.
“Hush now, Violet. Time to get some more rest. We must take care of the baby,” a deep voice whispers, and instead of being soothing, it sounds like nightmares and monsters in the dark, but also familiar somehow.