The moment of curious perusal passed and the party of seven continued on, filtering out of the ballroom. And as the doors closed decidedly behind them, the atmosphere of excitement, of anticipation for the night ahead, dimmed.
Tonight, she would watch from the balcony with the other maids. Watch as Master and Lord, Casworon Trevanion was presented with his mate. The one who would sleep in his bed, feed him—the one who would bear his young.
“You three,” the housekeeper called, yanking Lia out of her thoughts. “Back to work. We have but ten hours until the ball. There is no time to dawdle.”
Slowly lowering herself to the ground, Lia grabbed her rag from the bucket of cold water and started washing a fresh circle of floor. No doubt the highly sought-after Nephilim would be beautiful and graceful, ready to please, and thrilled beyond words to claim such a male. And Lia would go back to her room, to her work—to a life of being unnoticed. Never noticed. Not that she truly wished to be. Not anymore. Besides her limp, she had a scar that ran from her lip to her temple. Both courtesy of the rogue Blade who had murdered all four of her sisters—all highly decorated Blades, and all that remained of her family.
Her lips curved into a rare smile. As it always did when she thought of that Blade. Lia had made sure the female never took another breath. But, in turn, the Blade had made sure Lia would live out the rest of her days in weakness and obscurity, an object of pity.
A female who could look at a male like Casworon Trevanion, and wish, desire, hope.
But never touch.
CHAPTER TWO
Cas leaned into the salty wind as he rode the Cleveland Bay stallion he’d purchased three months ago along the cliff’s edge. It was a daunting path he’d regularly traversed since he was a very young male. While his father had always found the risk, the flash of fire and impulse inside of Cas impressive, his mother had felt the opposite. There was not a day that went by where she didn’t follow him to the stables and beg him not to go or to please take a groom—or even better, stay to the far gentler terrain of the moors. He would smile and assure her of his abilities. He was an Incubus, after all. But that didn’t sway her in the least. For years, Cas believed her worry stemmed from the deep and abiding love of a mother. Then one morning when he was twelve, just as he’d been ready to ride out, she’d allowed him to see her true nature.
“You may be an Incubus, my son,” she’d said, her lip curling as if that was the most detestable of fates. And he would learn later that to her, it was. “Close to immortal. But you are not fully grown. At this tender age, you cannot escape all injury.” Her eyes had moved over him. “Who will want you if you are a scarred male? Broken?” Those eyes had risen to meet his own. “Not one of the royal females, that is certain.”
“What do I care for royal females?” he’d returned hotly, giving his dancing mare a couple of strokes to her long neck.
“How selfish you are, Casworon,” she’d scolded. “Your father almost made such a mistake when I was presented to him, and it near cost him this castle. I won’t let you be so foolish. Your fate is already secured.”
“What does that mean?” he’d demanded, feeling strange and confused as a child does when he starts to understand his parents’ union might not be what he believed it to be.
“Never mind,” his mother had said. “I want you to get down from that animal and come inside.”
But Cas had not been one to obey. Strong-willed, his Incubus blood revving in his veins, he’d ignored her—kicked his mare into a run and headed for the cliffs. The next morning he’d found his mare in her stall, her throat cut. His mother’s wordless punishment, and future threat.
Do as I say, or the things you love will die.
Whatever love he’d had for his mother before that day, it was gone by sundown. Granted, he didn’t stop pushing back, or even disobeying her. But never again did he underestimate her. She wanted her connection to the royals solidified—no matter the cost—and she knew Cas would never put his people, his staff or his animals at risk.
His duty would be done.
The bay picked up speed as he neared a small chasm in the rock. Inexperienced though the stallion might be, he had instinct and drive, and a hunger to soar. Cas leaned forward, his insides tightening up as his outsides relaxed. The bay flew over the gulf, then came thundering down on the other side. Sea spray hit Cas’s face and neck and he growled at the sensation, then licked his upper lip. He loved the salty taste. It reminded him of a female’s heated skin, slick with sweat.
His body stirred. He could hardly wait for tonight. Ten females beneath him, atop him, against him. They would steal the memories of the mating introduction, remind him of what he was. Would continue to be.
An Incubus.
A sex demon.
A male who was not bred, born or destined for something as weak and trivial as love.