Page 1 of Raising the Sun

PROLOGUE

AMADEUS

Orgy or ritual sacrifice?That was the question. More to the point, which of my usual vices would cure the boredom that had settled in my blackened soul today? Neither, probably. At least, not for long. But another hour spent draped across my ornamental throne, waiting for entertainment to fall graciously into my lap, would absolutely have me withering to dust. In the past week alone, I’d almost wrung out both options—and many worthy others—to the point of stripping them of all novelty, but I was nothing if not a creature of habit.

Inane repetition was but one consequence of the life I led, after all.

Being the youngest son of a viscount had its perks. My existence was lavish, rich, and I could spend my days drinking,fucking, and causing chaos without so much as a sneer in my direction.

I wasn’t needed. The ‘heir and the spare’ was a concept that had long since outgrown our family, and those eleven brothers and sisters ahead of me in line granted me a freedom that not many others of my station could afford. I was left to my own devices. Whatever I chose to do with my endless spare time was irrelevant. I was ignored. Forgotten. I could have everything I wanted. From jewels to jesters, I had it all.

And yet…

Two hundred and thirty-two years was long enough for me to have tired of the possibilities. I’d run every diversion into the ground, taken advantage of every indulgence my freedom offered, and it wasn’t enough. Between the monotony and my dwindling imagination, I was missing something. There was a hole in me that no amount of blood, spirits, or orgasms seemed to fill. Not anymore. I craved something fresh to sink my fangs into, something that would satisfy the hollowness—if only to be rid of its incessant ache—while also feeding my desire for amusement.

I just had no cluewhat, and the longer I had to sit there, lamenting my misfortune, the more keenly I felt the loss.

A vicious cycle.

Wilting like a flower deprived of sunlight, I let out a disgruntled huff and sank further into my throne. Well, more an oversized chair sculpted from pure platinum, marbled withstriations of gold and tiger’s eye, but for the sake of simplicity, ‘throne’ worked well enough.

“What have I done to deserve such a cursed fate?”

The question echoed through the vacant halls, the silence that followed stretching for a beat before an answering whine drifted up from the floor.

Oh.

I’d quite forgotten I had company.

With a pout, I let my head loll to the side to better address the soul kneeling obediently at my feet. “That was rhetorical, you wretched thing,” I cooed, laughing at its hissing chirp of apology—manners weren’t entirely absent, then. “Though, I suppose, if you have any ideas for games you wish to play—” I raised a foot, sweeping the pads of my toes through the entity’s ghostly torso, making it shiver. “—I’m all ears.”

The creature could only squirm and grunt, its ghoulish shape lacking a mouth or permission to move. Hollow eyes peered up at me, desperate and hopeful, and I knew exactly what it wanted.

“I tortured you only yesterday, you greedy thing. Wouldn’t want me to sicken myself of that too, now would we?” A quirk of my brow had it trilling in agreement but deflating. Admittedly, the prospect of making a shade scream would have piqued my interest had the sound not ingrained itself in my head and started to grate.

I truly was in a rut.

“No, what I seek is nothing less than the extraordinary. A skinny-dip into the unknown.” I leaned forward to flick a clawed finger in front of its face, drawing its gaze back to me. “Does your wicked little mind have any suggestions on that front?”

After a thoughtful pause, the creature shook its head, returning to silence. I sighed in disappointment and withdrew my touch, slumping back in my seat. “Pity.”

It was pointless to dwell on it. I was too young and too pretty to be developing worry wrinkles over such things or, sweet Tartarus forbid, dirtying my delicate hands with manual labour—torture excluded. If a solution to my predicament didn’t trip over itself to gain my attention, it wouldn’t happen at all. A shame for my sanity, certainly, but what was I to do?

I propped my head up with one hand, drumming my metal-claw-tipped fingers against the chair arm with the other. There was a restless urge blooming in me, making me want to fidget—an alien impulse. Why I’d decided that morning to forgo the comfort of my usual robe and don my full regalia wasn’t clear to me. Though, I suspected my past self had a perfectly reasonable explanation as I wasn’t in the habit of making stupid choices, but one had to wonder if the purpose had exhausted itself by now.

I was elegance personified, and that was reason enough for anything, but whether brought on by my aimless reflective spiral or the blistering light beaming in through the stained-glass windows, I was getting agitated. My skin itchedlike it was suddenly three sizes too small, feeling sweat-sticky and burdensome, and I wished to disrobe.

Orgy it is.

Hauling myself to my feet with a put-upon sigh, I clicked my fingers to summon the servant I knew lingered like a ghost in the shadows, but the unpleasant sensation intensified. I hummed in confusion as my attempt to take a step forward was unsuccessful, leaving me rooted to the spot.

Fire prickled like weak poison in my veins, the undercurrent of magic evident in its assault. The crease between my brows was an undesirable side effect as I pondered the invisible force keeping me immobile, but I had no time to draw a conclusion before my body began fading into the ether, feet first, the tingle turning almost painful.

Between one blink and the next, a vortex of smoke rose from the ground, my final warning before I felt it—a shift in the atmosphere that rocked my very being. The air grew thick, the fizz of electricity a constant thrum in my ears as all whispers of grandeur vanished.

I was no longer present in my own realm.

Fuck.

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