The devil doctor

Things that linger

*Wicky*

As I stroll back into the ballroom, wondering if anyone notices my eyes are a tad brighter, my lips a bit swollen, my skin slightly flushed. Without looking in a mirror, I know it’s true because I feel as though I’ve changed in the space of a few moments, morphed into someone with a spring in my step, a lightness in my soul I’ve never experienced before.

Riverdale kissed me, but without tenderness or gentleness. Even as passion began to take hold and Bill deepened the kiss, it wasn’t about possession or control, but rather giving, sharing, enjoying… completely and absolutely.

While I was initially taken aback by his hunger, experienced a few seconds of panic, his tenacity, his honest desire enticed me to react in kind, to know he meant me no harm. He causes my heart to accelerate, my skin to warm, my nerves to tingle, my toes to curl. In a few breathless moments he showed me that it can be pleasant to have a man’s attention.

He kissed me tonight and I’ll see him tomorrow. I can scarcely wait. It doesn’t matter that he left abruptly or that he didn’t use an endearment as we parted ways. What matters is that I know he desires me. What matters is that he doesn’t frighten me.

“Wicky?”

I come to a quick stop as my dearest friend in all the world, Evangeline, approaches. “Hello, Evangeline.”

Evangeline gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek when she and the Alpha of Claybourne arrived earlier. Now she simply studies me as though seeing me for the first time. “You appear happy.”

“Yes.” I dearly want to tell her why, but it’s still so fresh, so wonderful that I decide to hold it to myself for a while longer, to simply embrace the amazement and glow of it. “I have every reason to be. The ball is quite the success.”

“Do you remember how hard I had to work to convince you that you could throw a smashing party?”

I nod, remembering how I fretted over the balls I gave while Riverdale was alive. “But I no longer have a fear of disappointing anyone. Bill Grimley is most appreciative. He and I are going to meet later in the week to discuss the plans for the hospital.”

I see no reason to mention that I’ll also see him tomorrow. I have no desire to worry my friend, and in all likelihood nothing is wrong. Perhaps it’s little more than being distracted arranging this affair. Yes, that’s it, I’m certain. I began planning it as soon as I arrived in Blackrock city. I wanted everything to be perfect. I’m devoted to it, and so my mind has been unable to focus on anything else.

“That’s wonderful,” Evangeline says now about the hospital. “I’m so glad you have this project to occupy your time.”

“I rather enjoy it, meeting with the architects and builders. Bill Grimley has given me leave to design it however I’d like. I’ve gone through tours of other hospitals, spoken with staff so I have a better understanding of all that is needed. I believe Dr. Grimley will be pleased with my efforts.”

“I’m certain he will be. I’m quite impressed.” Reaching out, touching the petal of a lily sitting in a large blue vase, Evangeline says, “Speaking of Grimley, I saw you waltzing with him earlier.”

“You look as though something is afoot when you know he always dances with me. One dance. One dance only. I suppose it’s his way of thanking me.”

She smiles, “You like him.”

“He’s very kind as you’re well aware.”

Evangeline gives me a concerned smile. “Just take care, sweetling. His work comes first and always will. He’s dedicated to his patients.”

An hour ago, half an hour ago, I would have simply nodded in agreement… but Bill Grimley kissed me. “I’m not expecting anything of him.” Well, perhaps I am just a little.

At that moment, the Alpha of Claybourne appears to claim his Luna for a dance. I never expected Evangeline to marry the Devil Alpha, but I can’t deny that my friend is incredibly happy, and that the man obviously adores her.

The remainder of the evening, I visit with one person after another, ensure that food and champagne are readily available, thank people for supporting my event, for ensuring that a first-rate hospital will be built. By the time midnight rolls around and everyone has left, I am exhausted from serving as hostess. I have to fairly drag myself up the stairs. But I can’t go to bed just yet.

Walking past my bedchamber, I carry on to one three doors down. Inside, I find my seven-year-old son sprawled over his bed, snoring lightly. The door to his governess’s apartments is closed as he’s getting old enough not to be watched every moment. A lamp burns low on the table beside his bed. He’d never liked sleeping in the dark.

I approach as quietly as possible, then softly brush his brown hair back from his brow. With his father’s death, he became the Alpha of Riverdale but I can’t quite bring myself to call him by his rightful title, perhaps because it still reminds me too much of my husband. To me, my son is Ethan. I also believe Ethan seems more appropriate for a child. I suspect it won’t be too long before he begins wanting to be called by the name that belonged to his father. But until then, I’ll have things my way.

I can only be grateful that his father never laid a hand on him, that Ethan was too young to understand all that was happening within this household. And while I’m certain I’ll go to hell, I won’t feel guilty about being glad that my husband died. I know it makes me an awful person, but not nearly as dreadful as Riverdale was.

Leaning down, I press a light kiss to Ethan’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

I still as a fragrance assails me. Caraway. It’s a scent I associate with my husband, with pain, with humiliation. My heart pounding, I spin around and search the shadows. I see nothing but the veiled darkness.

I’m being ridiculous. Riverdale is dead, but of late, the smell of him has begun seeping out of corners, out of little pockets, catching me unawares from time to time. I forbade the servants from having caraway seeds in the residence, from indulging in eating them. Someone must be disobeying the edict. I’ll have to take the matter up with the butler tomorrow.

I want no reminders of my husband, nothing that dredges up memories of my miserable existence while I lived under his thumb.

With one last look at Ethan, I silently leave the room, closing the door quietly behind me. My heart is finally returning to its normal rhythm. Perhaps it’s time to find another residence in Blackrock city. This one contains far too many memories. Wherever I look, I see reminders of Riverdale.

It makes little sense that I would begin to smell him, as it has been three years since his passing, but his habit of constantly chewing on caraway seeds had caused the fragrance to permeate everything. When the house was closed up for winter, perhaps the scent was trapped in little pockets of air and was released as the house was opened back up. But why haven’t I noticed it here sooner? I can’t explain it, and don’t want to think about it anymore.

After arriving in my bedchamber, I ring for my lady’s maid. It seems to take no time at all for Sarah to prepare me for bed. After the servant leaves, I study my reflection in the mirror at the dressing table. From a certain angle, it’s almost impossible to tell that my nose was broken. I flinch at the memory of the pain, the blood, the c***k of cartilage giving way beneath the meaty fist. My offense was allowing the Devil Alpha to attend our ball. My husband was furious.

I haven’t run images of that horrid night through my mind in a good long while. I hope I won’t awaken in a cold sweat with my screams echoing through the room. Thoughts of that night so often bring on nightmares, even though years have passed. It’s as though they are woven into the fabric of my soul.

Rising from the chair, I give my reflection one last look before wandering over to the bed. As I crawl between the sheets, I have a momentary vision of Bill Grimley waiting for me there, of his taking me into his arms, and kissing me with the same passion that he had in the garden. While I have every reason to dread the intimacy that will follow, I find myself anticipating it. I fully understand that not all men are as brutish as Riverdale. I long to glow with the happiness that Evangeline does.

I don’t bother to reach for the lamp, to extinguish the flame. My son isn’t the only one who doesn’t want to sleep in the dark.

Rolling onto my side, I slip a hand beneath the pillow…

Freeze as my fingers touch something hard and cold.

No, it can’t be. It isn’t possible.

Straightening, I fling the pillow aside and gasp at the sight of the sapphire necklace winking up at me.