"I have to go? Now?!" I exclaim as Helga walks between Bela and I, never changing her course from the armoire to the bed, where there's a suitcase already half full of my things. From the corner of the room, ever-observant of her doings, Lady Dimitrescu watches Helga. "Bela, I can't just abandon you." I continue. "Not with Mother Miranda sniffing around the castle."

Bela giggles, the only source of brightness in this room. "Nonsense. The only reason she's sniffing around is because of you. By you leaving for a week every month, the least we can do is make things more complicated for her."

Her words are light, but they still sting like an angry bee. She had told me about her and her mother's plan to have me live with Lord Beneviento for a single, random week every month as a means to confuse Mother Miranda, and get her off of my trail for a little bit.

Unfortunately, she didn't say how long this plan was to go on for.

It certainly isn't a very secured plan, but if she's going to be around the castle because of me, then going away for a week she can't predict seems like a better safety blanket than nothing. Even at the risk of her going and searching for me.

Bela had explained things while we were on our way back to the castle, and apparently, my reaction had been similar to hers when Lady Dimitrescu first introduced it to the eldest daughter. I worry about where else Mother Miranda might start looking if she can't find me at the castle, and Bela thought as much as well. The village was out of the question, since Mother Miranda wouldn't believe Lady Dimitrescu would let me go back. Donna is the safest bet since the Lord herself is so secluded from even the 'family' that no one would believe she'd let other people onto her property.

Let alone someone like me who's made such an . . . imprint on House Dimitrescu, as Helga had described.

The housekeeper makes another pass between Bela and I, and I finally walk around to the other side of the bed, plopping on its edge. I sigh at the release of weight on my ankle. It seems to have swollen a bit with my running away from that creature. The vârcolaci, as Bela had called it.

I terrified even myself with the gratification that swarmed through me at the sight of watching its body crunch and collapse on the rocks beneath the river.

I hadn't felt the pain in my ankle until after we'd settled down by the fire. The adrenaline having numbed the pain until we warmed up. At least Bela didn't seem to mind carrying me on her back for most of the trek back to the castle.

We were greeted by a surprised Helga – who ordered some other servants to prepare a couple of baths and to bring the healer to examine my ankle. Despite her barking orders and tightened face, I couldn't help but be grateful for the maternal concern. I offered to let Bela go first, but she seemed more inclined to bathe in the warmth of the roaring fire.

And perhaps she wasn't ready to get into water again. Either way, I was relieved to be soaked in a warm envelopment. I nearly fell asleep had Helga not knocked on the door to bring me a new set of clothes.

I run my thumb across my bandaged hand, the wrappings still pearl white from when the healer put them on. I look towards Helga – who is rather meticulously packing my things into a suitcase – and I can't help but smile.

I hadn't seen the housekeeper in what felt like ages – I don't even recall seeing her at the dinner with Mother Miranda, but of course, every fiber and instinct in my body had been solely focused on Heisenberg that she could've been standing right in front of me, and I wouldn't have noticed.

She still wears her hair in a tight, smooth knot at the crown of her head, but her dress has more color to it than her usual faded earth tones. This one she wears is a lovely navy blue that covers her from neck to toe. The turtleneck collar dips into a V at the front, and lighter, delicate embroidery mimics a silver wind; the design shared, but barely visible, along the folds of the skirt. Appropriate, with just enough flare to give a little personality.

More lady-in-waiting than haggard housekeeper.

Bela's slippered feet step into my downcast view, and I look to her as she sits next to me, her golden hair looking freshly dried and fluffed with volume. She wears a dress of mulberry, the sleeves falling off her shoulders and pointing at her wrist. I changed into a different pair of pants and shirt, despite wanting to just relax in the loose skirt of a nightgown.

"What am I supposed to do at her home? Am I expected to do some chores?"

From her place by the door, Lady Dimitrescu says, "It would be the least you could do, considering her gracious hospitality. After everything you've done here, I'm sure you'll find the work rather, monotonous."

I allow a smirk. "Is that a compliment, My Lady?" Unfortunately, she's not amused. I ineptly clear my throat and look back to Bela, "Am I going to need some weapons?"

Bela blinks, "It didn't occur to me, actually. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt, would it mother?"

Before she can answer, Cassandra emerges from behind her. "I don't see why you wouldn't bring any." In her arms, she carries the sword with her, a large burlap sack attached to her back. "Especially since there are so many more creatures you're bound to encounter; a little protection shouldn't hurt."

"Cassandra," Lady Dimitrescu warns.

But the middle daughter ignores her as she hands me the sword, and dumping the contents of the sack onto the bed. That compound bow with its own arrows, a pistol, and a rifle. The scope attached is made for long distance. Don't know what the hell I'll be shooting – if anything – but it is appreciated.

Not that I'd ever tell Cassandra that.

Daniela comes humming into the room, twirling a dagger between her fingers. She makes a beeline for the bed, Bela taking an obvious step in front of me. "Though I doubt anything exciting will happen over at Auntie Donna's house, maybe you could hone another skill and take up whittling."

In a smooth motion, she chucks the knife at me, impaling it in the post of the bed closest to my head.

But I don't flinch.

Helga startles, the other two servant girls gasping, but I knew the blade wasn't going to hit. Her form is terrible. If she did happen to get me, it wouldn't been shit luck.

I look Daniela in the eyes as I pry the knife free. "Thanks." I say with blatant boredom. I slide it into the spare sheath attached to my belt.

The two sisters hadn't been there to greet Bela and I, but they just happened to show up once Helga and the two girls – whose names escape me – were beginning to pack some of my things. I assume these things will be left at Lord Beneviento's manor for the time being.

Daniela skips her way over to me, and it would be a lie if I said I wasn't a little unhinged at the youngest daughter's erratic behavior. One night she's cowering and whimpering like a young child, the next she's tearing into some poor soul with a smile on her face and a laugh in her throat.

She plops down next to me on the bed, crossing her legs; bundling the plum purple skirt of her dress. She leans back on her hands, but tilts in close towards me. Her voice drops into a low husk as she says, "The only problem you'd have to worry about is finding means to 'entertain' yourself while you're away."

Color steals over my cheeks at her giggle. I'm so taken aback that I can't respond, my mind reeling with questions. I wouldn't be surprised if they had somehow smelled my scent on Bela – but even so, how is my head still attached to my shoulders? I thought Lady Dimitrescu would've slaughtered me when she found out what I'd done with her daughter.

More like what her daughter did to me, but still.

I don't dare look to Bela. Could she have said something? A part of me almost, expects it – I've heard countless women gossip before around the village, especially if it involved their first bed lay with a man.

"I'm sure I'll think of something." Is all I can reply with.

"Will you be thinking of me?" she giggles, leaning in closer.

Only in my nightmares

I decide to ignore her and look to Lady Dimitrescu, "My Lady, may I be excused? There are a couple more things I'd like to purchase from The Duke."

I'd taken all but a second's glance into the room where he usually sets himself up, and noticed his booth open. Even if it's a lie, I could still find something to buy there.

With a stern expression, she says, "Don't take too long. We need to get you out the door as soon as we're able."

I bow my head and mumble, "Yes, My Lady."

I leave without another word, doing my best to limp with a little bit of grace. Cassandra and Daniela snicker behind me, but I continue to walk.

I've only made it to the top of the stairs when I hear buzzing in my ear. I flinch at first, but the swarm of flies gives me a wide birth before they gather and materialize into Bela.

I peer down the stairs as I say to her, "You didn't have to come along."

"I don't trust anyone else with you, yet." She says softly. She takes a couple of steps closer to me. "And I figured you might need –"

Before she can finish her sentence, I hop on the railing and slide down to the next level. Bela materializes at the landing, but doesn't say anything. She simply follows me to the main hall where I slide down two more stairs before reaching Duke's room.

Thankfully he's still open. I enter with a nod.

"Well good afternoon, my little adventurer." She chuckles with a wave of his fat, ringed hand.

"That's a bit of a stretch. I'm not intentionally looking for anything."

"Some people seek adventure, but there are those where adventure seeks them." He says with a lift of a brow. His eyes flick behind me and he does his best to mimic a bow. "Lady Bela. It's an honor."

"Thank you, Duke." She says flatly before approaching me. I attempt to look busy browsing among a fan of shirts. "Is everything okay?"

I shrug. "I mean, I guess."

"Look if this is about what Daniela had said, I had nothing to do with it. No one knows anything."

I shrug again, not taking my gaze off of the shirts. "I don't know whether to feel happy or upset."

When I look to her, Bela blinks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just from the way the three of you had been practically obsessing over me, I thought you would've gone skipping to them the minute we –"

I stop myself short, and we both look to Duke.

He was already occupied taking down notes in his ledger, but once he notices the silence, he looks to us.

Wisely, he closes the curtains to his box; allowing us some form of privacy. No matter what he hears, he won't say anything.

"What are you so upset about?" Bela asks. "I thought you'd be, happy to get away from this place for a bit."

"And I thought you would be more defensive about letting me stay here." I plop myself into a seat at a table with a typewriter. I hit a few of the keys, enjoying the sound. "Instead, you seem more eager to push me out."

"I'm doing it to protect you." Her voice sharpens. Her hands fisting at her sides. "You should be grateful."

I snort.

"Are you really pouting because you're leaving?" I bristle at the smirk that crawls across her lips. "Was I just that good for you?"

My nostrils flare as she licks her lips for emphasis. "Oh shut up."

"So I was?"

"And what if you were?" I challenge, and Bela's features wash into shock. "I guess I must've been disappointing since you've never talked about it since."

"Well neither did you!"

"Because I don't know what the hell I am to you!"

Bela's lips flatten into a line, her brows narrowing with flared nostrils. "You said you wanted fun. I gave you fun."

"I said I wanted to feel alive again."

She folds her arms. "And did it work?"

"Enough that I forgot about my problems for a few minutes." I truthfully tell.

Bela gives a feline grin. "I'm still waiting on my thank you."

But my words bring a wave of numbness across my body.

And for the first time in the past three years . . . I have understanding for my mother.

I hate it.

I sigh and rub my hands along the front of my face, raking my fingers through my hair.

No, I don't want this. I won't want to have understanding for her. understanding leads to sympathy, and that's the one thing she doesn't deserve from me. Not after everything she did.

"You know you never approached me about it either." Bela says.

"Like I could!" I snap. "Do you know what your mother would do to me if she found out about it? I'm surprised she didn't lop my head off just from Daniela mentioning it."

"She won't kill you."

I snort, cold and empty that turns into a snarl. "You cannot promise that. Don't even try. A lowly peasant like myself? Like she would let her daughter end up with someone like me. Let alone another woman."

Bela splays her arms, her lips pulling back to reveal her seemingly sharpened canines. "You don't know what my mother likes. What I like."

"I know she won't let you involve yourself with a peasant like me."

"So you're spitting vitriol at me because of that?"

I slam my hand on the table, springing myself up from the chair, "I'm fucking pissed because you just bedded me and now, you're forcing me to leave!"

"Those have nothing to do with it, and you fucking know that! It's because of Mother Miranda!" I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off. "And don't you even try to say you can handle her, you can't! And I don't even know why you're mad at me. You didn't come to me, and I didn't come to you."

"I can't exactly make the first move here."

"You could try."

"I shouldn't have to try for anything!"

"Oh, but I do?!"

My voice raises, and if I had hackles, they'd be raised. "I've been trying, for everything, my whole entire life! The least that you could do is try for me; if you even care that much!" Bela's chest flattens upon exhale. "Until you decide what the hell I am to you, then just stay the hell away from me, and stop wasting my fucking time."

To that, Bela goes silent.

While I have my own feelings to sort out, I cannot be the first to tell her. Not in this situation. Not in this castle.

Should Lady Dimitrescu catch wind that I want to court her daughter, she'd have me hanging from the gallows in a heartbeat. Or worse, she'd send me to Mother Miranda. At least if Bela approaches her, her mother will at least listen to her. Maybe even allow her to keep me as some kind of slave.

I don't know whether to feel pleased or disturbed at that thought. But Bela has her own points – I don't know why I'm so bitter to begin with.

I don't want to be separated from her, yes; she has become some form of a safety blanket for me and her family. And I know I'd gladly get on my knees for her if I had the chance to taste her – but still my heart refuses to allow even an ounce of dedication. Not until I see it from her.

Because there's no point in allowing my heart to open up if it'll just get gutted and squashed once Bela finds someone new . . . and better.

I bitterly say, "Maybe this week apart will benefit us both. Maybe you'll get your head on straight after talking with your precious 'family.'"

Her teeth flash, any semblance of softness gone. "Don't take that snide fucking tone when you speak about my family."

"They don't care about me. I may speak of them as I wish." I make to step away, but she grips my wrist, holding me in place. "Let go."

"Make me."

Hot temper pours in. "You're a haughty bitch."

"And you're an arrogant bitch. We're evenly matched."

I snarl. "Let go."

Bela snorts, but obeys, turning her face as she backs a step away. And I let the light of victory in my eyes. The clear sense that she believes I've unnerved her and won this fight that has her grabbing the front of my leather jacket.

I tell myself it was to knock that pouty snarl off her face as she curls her fingers in the leather; I tell myself it was to take her by surprise that I grab her by the elbows and haul my mouth to her.

Every hateful thought eddies from my mind. I give myself to the distraction, welcome it with open arms, let the kiss burn through all of it. There is only her mouth and her tongue and her teeth, licking and tasting and biting; there is only the curve of her body, pressing against mine, but not nearly close enough—

For a heartbeat, there is only the warmth of Bela's mouth, the press of her body, the stiffness in her every trembling muscle as I slant my lips over hers, our chests touching.

I kiss her with my eyes open, so I can see precisely how the eldest daughter's own widen.

I pull away a moment later and find her eyes still wide, her breathing harsh.

I laugh softly, making to unhook her fingers from my jacket and strut down the hall.

I only get as far as lowering my right hand before Bela surges forward to kiss me back.

The force of that kiss knocks us towards the wall, the wood slamming into my shoulders as all of her lines up against all of me, her hands on my shoulders.

The moment I hit that wall, the moment Bela enveloped me, it destroyed any illusion of restraint. I open my mouth, and her tongue sweeps in, the kiss punishing and savage.

And the taste of her, like sun-kissed wine and misty mountains —

Bela moans, unable to help herself.

Her hands rove over my chest, desperate for any skin, anything to touch as our tongues meet and part, as she licked the roof of my mouth, as she slides her tongue over my teeth.

My own hands glaze over her hips, around the perfect curve of her ass. I can't fill my hands enough with it as I haul her to me, feeling her core slip against my thigh.

I plunge my fingers into her hair, and it's as soft as I'd imagined, the strands like silk against my skin.

I grind her into me, and she groans into my mouth at the first pull of her hips. She arches her back with that deep-throated sound, her hips moving of their own accord for a second.

My hands – still cradling her lovely ass – encourage her, pushing her along my thigh again, her aching, pebbled breasts touching mine. My right hand burrows beneath the skirt of her dress, hiking it up, up, up until my finger hook into the side of her lace underwear. The strap is so thin there's barely any fabric to the undergarment.

I burrow my face into her neck, licking along the column as I navigate two fingers between her cheeks. The grazing touch making her whimper. One bare leg hiking hire onto me like a mountain climber, the other bracing herself for balance and momentum.

My fingers are suddenly greeted by a slick wetness as I pass over the bump of her asshole, and I gently fiddle with her delicate folds, treating them like a silk ribbon between my fingers.

The teasing touch set her panting; the gaping of my fingers in her sex has her eyes rolling back in her head.

I pull myself from her neck. I've never seen Bela laid so bare as she is while she grinds her hips into me again, and I watch her writhe.

A dark smile graces my mouth. "How cute," I purr in a voice I've never heard but knew she'd crawl to hear again. I drove my thigh up between her legs, a lazy, thorough push into the throbbing ache of her.

She scrambles to regain any sense of control, of sanity—finding herself wanting to hand it all over to me, to let me touch and touch and touch her, lick and suckle and milk her—

I bite my lip as I read that in her stare, and kiss her again.

Our tongues tangle, our bodies pressed so tightly I can feel her heartbeat against my chest. She tastes me thoroughly, withdraws, and tastes me again. Like she is learning every place in my mouth.

My core pulses. My own body aching, so wet that every stitch of the seam down the center of my pants is torture.

Her kiss turns deeper, wilder, and she grapples with the buttons of my pants. Her fingertips ripping at every loop, nearly clawing to get me free.

Her panting caresses my skin as she nips at my bottom lip, my ear, my jaw. Her own staccato breathing echoing it, and she captured my mouth again, moaning into me as she gives up on the laces and buttons and lays her hand flat against me.

My hand works around towards the front of her underwear, the whisper of the skirt of her dress enveloping her leg like satin wine. I push my two fingers against her folds, against her little bundle, my thumb caressing it like my tongue tickles her earlobe.

Bela bucks as my thumb rubs over that bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

She tears her mouth from mine. "If you keep doing that, I'll—"

I do it again, plunging my fingers into her, toward the spot I knew pressed against his lower abdomen. Her hips arc toward me, and she tilts back her head, exposing the lean column of her throat.

She grits her teeth, chest heaving like a bellows, and the sight of her coming undone has me leaning forward. Has me wrapping my arm around her middle and pushing her closer to me. Keeping our chests connected as she rubs against me, harder and rougher.

I brace my foot against the wall, pushing Bela up until she has to stand on her toes; a yelp of pleasure erupting from her full, crimson lips.

With my name a plea on her lips, her hips grind on my fingers with a strength that makes my core throb to the point of pain, imagining that force, that focus and heat, mingling with my own sex.

Another punishing plunge of her on my fingers, a scrape of my teeth at her neck, and Bela bursts.

She presses tight into my chest as she comes, fingers curling; and each pulse of her sex shudders through her entire body, echoing along my hand as I thrust and thrust into her. my thumb slowly flicking over her clit in a steady, unwinding pace.

When Bela finally stills, when she is shaking—only then do I remove my face from her neck. Her golden eyes widen enough that the whites shine around them. A blush stains her pale cheeks, so enticing that I nearly lean forward to lick that, too.

Her eyes trace over the entirety of my neck, my chin, and finally my eyes. With her hands relaxed on my chest, and her face pink and relaxed with pleasure, she almost reminds me of a cat.

She shudders and gasps as I lower my leg, forcing to brush against her one final time before her feet are flat on the ground.

She nearly falls to the floor, but I guide her to the other seat by the typewriter table. She sits with her legs closed, curled hands on her knees, her head down.

For a moment, I wonder if she regrets it – almost every bit of desire, of blessed distraction within me winking out.

Almost – until she looks up to me in awe.

With her breathing still catching up to her, she whispers, "You . . . never said . . . that you could –"

I curl my lips in a cold, cruel smile and say, "You never asked. And I didn't expect you to be so, quick."

I don't wait to hear her counter, her words of disbelief as I turn and leave. I only say, "Good luck while I'm gone."