Page 110 of When Night Falls

October 20th

It's been twenty-four hours since my wedding night. Twenty-four hours since I killed my wife and watched my kingdom near the edge of ashes as chaos burned in these walls.

The need to go to Lucynda and crush my body to hers plagued me every single second but I know that she needed her rest and that I would only be using her body as an outlet for my aggression and the betrayal I was feeling all over again. I couldn't do that to her. No matter how much I wanted to blame her for the consequential events that took place I knew that it would only be a copout. I'm a villain, but I won't be another monster in her life. No more than I have to be. Besides, I knowNatasha and Troy are taking good care of her as her new life shifts into place.

I can't place what's been happening. My theory is that someone within Valor Cove went rogue and Viktrum is trying everything he can to place blame on me so that he can skate by without conviction or ridicule. But then why would Trav confess? The look of loss of control he held in his eyes indicated that he might have been compelled, which could be from Viktrum's doing as well. Only Royals can compel Royals. That would solidify his alibi and allow the Faction to take the admission from my half-brother, but soon his compulsion would wear off. Does he know who's behind this? Or did he really do this and why?

Suddenly, I'm ripped from my thoughts by the slight echo of what sounds like piano keys playing in the background against my castle walls.

I sit up in the bed of the guest room I had stayed in—leaving Lucynda to remain in the comfort of my room for the beginning of her transition—feeling confused at the sound. No one has played that piano since my mother.

I toss a t-shirt over my head to go with the plaid pajama pants I'm wearing and walk down the hallway to the sound that calls to me like the moon to the stars. The piano filters through the halls flawlessly as I follow the tune it creates. I can nearly make out what is playing, loving the way the notes blend together.

I finally reach the room where theSteinway & Sonsis and I see Kacian standing guard, knowing exactly who he's here for.

He nods his head at me as my heart pounds against its cage. I turn the corner of the room and that's when I'm presented with the most jaw-dropping sight I've ever seen.

My wife sits on the sleek black bench wrapped in nothing but a burgundy silk sheet. She's a devil in the night as her fingersmove wickedly over the keys playing a tune that burns into my soul.

I know she woke up without me this morning and I hate to admit that I regret that I wasn't there for her. I know she probably felt a ton of pain from the start of her transition and I wanted to be the one to console her, but I couldn't do it. Not only do I crave to use her like an addict—she is my drug of choice—but after the things we said and did last night, the way she felt molded under my body like hers was made only for me, I don't trust myself with the way my emotions are running and I can't afford to slip up any further. Not like that.

But as she sways her figure effortlessly, the silk wrap that hugs her breasts and twists down her body, wrapping around her torso and tucked under her thighs, starts to glide down her smooth skin exposing more of her than she should care for in a place like this.

Voices echo outside and I know Nocturnes are prowling the halls seeing as I took away their nightly outing privileges for a bit. I should close the door, but then I'd disturb her before I'm ready to. Then again, who's to say she doesn't already know that I'm here. I know my little sinner likes being watched, maybe the showisjust for me.

I make sure to quiet my steps as I saunter closer, needing to breathe in the ecstasy she's producing. The way she caresses the keys and moves her feet along the solid brass pedals. The shiny, dark walnut wood looks almost black in the room, little to no lights present; only what's peeking out through the sheer white curtains in the form of moonlight.

The song choice is exemplary as the tune hums in the empty room. This room was designed only for this one instrument. The walls are a dark gray lined with solid black columns to accentuate the circular shape of the room. The large floor-to-ceiling windows are placed calculatedly in front of whereLucynda faces as she fingers the keys, triggering the hammers to strike the strings that produce the entirely serene sound she's intending.

Sheis fucking musical.

Her fingers come to a slow creep across the keys indicating the ending of her masterpiece. I had no clue my wife was so talented. And the way she sits perched on the bench as her body relaxes to the song that resounds magically in feathered echoes around the room is ethereal.

I take a few more steps closer, knowing by now that if her transition worked properly, she knows that I'm here.

"Incandescence." I let the title of the song slip off my tongue like a prayer to the sweet sin.

Her fingers pause at the end of her song. I hear her little breaths escape her as I walk closer.

"That was beautiful my-"

"What are you doing here, Rivian?" Her words strike me in an angered way. Exasperation drips from her husky tone as she denies me of my compliment.

I can't say I'm too caught off guard at her vexation, I know what makes her white with anger and it's being left alone.

"Not a very nice way to greet your husband, Lucynda." I decide to approach her in yet another unorthodox way because I do like seeing her skin crawl with irritation.

"I think you have some making up to do in order to deservenice," she mocks, and I have to hide my grin as I walk closer to where she sits.

I smirk at her, seeing the deviant of her dark side make an appearance. I am a fool for the way her eyes burn with passion and her nose crinkles in line with her attitude; how her lips pout when she's trying to feign innocence.

Her breathing is noticeable as I see her chest heave in anticipation. The exposed skin from the side of her breasts pebbles as the cool air circulates around her.

Her hair is in one of those twisty side braids I crave to unravel. It falls effortlessly down her back and is adorned by tiny little crystal butterfly clips. Too bad the meaning of the insect is lost as my little butterfly is now a hauntingly beautiful moth. Her death is the signifier and my god is she glowing in her darkened afterlife.

"I apologize if you felt like I neglected you. That was not my intention." I attempt to make amends. I'm destroyed by my craving for this girl, and I have to put an end to the madness that seeps inside me; once again all logic thrown out the window.

"Then what was your intention? To see how much I can handle on my own? To leave me to decide what aches and why? To see how much pain your new wife can take?" She's not furious with me, she's almost teasing me. She finally turns her head, her covering slips a little bit further down her body with her movements as she faces me.

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