Page 1 of Spark of Madness

chapter one

Mercy

CHAOS LOOMS, THENsharply descends like the quick stab of a blade through supple flesh. My anxiety over tonight’s service has reached its peak, pounding through my heart and pulsing adrenaline through my veins.

Tonight, we serve the Impulse beneath the full moon.

We serve, though lately I’ve come to think of it as something else—something I don’t have a word to describe, and I wouldn’t dare speak it even if I did.

Hyatt Price circles the flickering orange flames of the bonfire, his golden eyes glowing like a predator’s in the night…and they’re fixed on me. I knew he would seek my service tonight. He’s been whispering his intentions to me every day for the last week. The anticipation of it has given me adrenaline fatigue.

I step backward in my short black lace-up boots, a twig cracking beneath my feet as they carry me toward the surrounding forest’s tree line. He sees me retreating and his pace quickens toward me.

Why me?

Debauchery falls like the black embers cast from the licking flames, sparking ash spewed out from the fire. It rains down to set our world on fire with the release of the Impulse in a monthly ritual where our men purge.

Servants have already been claimed. One woman is being ravaged in front of the fire, while another is beaten senselessly in the shadows. All around, the air is ripe with the scent of smoke, sex, and sin.

And Hyatt approaches to use me.

He marches right past three unclaimed servants dressed in their black corsets and lace. One of them is Ivy Jane, who I know for a fact takes great pleasure in serving the urge for violence. Yet after a quick appreciative glance at her curves on display, Hyatt continues, heading straight for me.

I take another step back, though I know there will be hell to pay if anyone sees me retreating. I should be marching toward him. I should be waiting on my knees for him, knowing he’s coming to use me. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t plant my feet. I can’t bend. I can’t sink to my knees and welcome his purge.

I’m a sinner…a rebel.

I’m weak.

I watch as Hyatt’s expression hardens, his pace quickening toward me, violent rage gleaming in his deceptive glowing gaze.

And then a hand closes around my wrist.

Jerking me toward him, Theo Hughes pulls me into his hard chest and bends to kiss me, claiming me before Hyatt can even reach me. I allow a sigh of relief against his bruising lips. Theo’s urges are nothing to balk at, but they’re manageable. I can survive Theo—I have time and again—but I don’t know if I’d survive Hyatt.

As Theo drags his soft lips from mine, he turns his head, looking over at Hyatt, who’s standing at our side. “Better luck next time,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Mercy’s mine.”

“You’ll be done with her eventually,” Hyatt says, his lips twisted devilishly at the corner of his mouth. “And then I’ll take my turn with her.”

“I wouldn’t wait around,” Theo replies, reaching around me and curving his palm around my ass cheek.

I swallow hard as Hyatt narrows his eyes, holding my stare. Heat burns through his gaze, scorching me with the promise of untold violence and pain. He holds me there, forcing me to take the fire before he blinks and turns his eyes to Theo. “Fine. Plenty of other servants.” He reaches out to pluck a strand of my long blonde hair, twisting it sharply around his finger. “Just know I have my eye on you, Mercy Madness.”

He turns on his heel, returning to the bonfire where Ivy Jane stands with a proud smile upon her cheeks as he approaches her. Hyatt glances over his shoulder at me before fully giving his attention to her.

“You’re lucky I’m looking out for you,” Theo murmurs.

I look up at him as a moment’s relief tugs away the incessant throb of adrenaline, allowing me a brief reprieve. “Thank you.”

He lowers his voice. “I saw you retreating from him. Someone else could’ve seen. You need to get yourself together, Mercy. You’re aservant,and you need to accept it.”

“I accept it,” I tell him, though it may be a lie.

My lack of acceptance is rebellious, but I don’t aim to rebel. I want to survive here, though sometimes I find it difficult to justify that desire.

Theo’s hand latches around my throat and he squeezes, restricting my air flow as he pushes me back against the tree trunk. His other hand slips beneath the torn black lace of my skirt, shoving it aside and quickly seeking my sex, finding me bare without the barrier of undergarments—which we aren’t allowed to wear during service. He unceremoniously shoves two fingers inside me, his rough skin scraping along my dry inner walls.

“Why aren’t you ready for me?” he growls as he leans against me, his lips beside my ear. “What do you think Hyatt would’ve done to you if he’d found you dry and unprepared like this?”

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