Tilda's Rose

Count Nord pressed his lips to my ear and whispered in a voice that made my skin crawl.

"There's no use fighting it. Refuse all you like — you're the one who'll suffer."

"Take your hands... off me..."

It felt as if my head had caught fire.

Count Nord was grinding his mouth against mine, but the instant Dorothy's name left his lips, my mind went blank. Only a moment later did I realize that what I'd seized while flailing to keep from falling backward was the vase sitting on the table.

Count Nord collapsed on top of me, the back of his head soaked with water and blood, and I went down with him, showered in the shattered remains of the vase. I tried to shove him off and get up. But every time I put any strength into moving, the sensations running through my body grew stranger. Hot. Dizzy. Itchy. A deep, crawling tingle.

"Nngh. Hah..."

I shoved Count Nord off with every ounce of strength I had. He rolled from his face onto his back, groaning. I pulled the dagger I'd hidden against my chest and clenched it in my fist. I'd meant to drive it into his throat the moment he came to — but fortunately, Count Nord didn't move again.

I have to get out of here. I have to get out before he comes to.

I tried to lift my trembling knees with my hands and force myself up, but there was no strength in my legs at all.

"Ah—"

How much time passed while I squirmed there, not knowing what to do? Someone opened the door and came in. At first I couldn't tell who it was; then I managed to dredge the memory from the wreckage of my mind. It was the bartender who'd been serving drinks in the private room.

He swept a quick look over me and Count Nord, then pulled a blanket from the bed and started toward me. I barely got myself upright and raised the dagger. Even I could see how pathetically the blade trembled, and I had to bite down on my lip.

"My lady. We need to get you out of here."

"Don't... come closer..."

"My lady. Put the knife down. We don't have time."

"Stay... away..."

The bartender tried to throw the blanket over me, so I swung the dagger wildly. He clicked his tongue at a gesture that wasn't the least bit threatening and plucked the blade from my hand as if it were nothing. Then he draped the blanket over my head.

I thrashed my arms and legs, fighting with everything I had to get free of it. I struggled like I was dying.

"Get... away! No...!"

"I'll take you to the Captain. My lady, please don't move."

He rolled me up in the blanket, lifted me into his arms, and spoke in a rush.

"Cap...tain?"

"Yes. I'll take you to the Police Captain, so please stay calm."

The Police Captain.

The moment I heard those words, every last bit of strength drained out of me.

A familiar voice reached my ears — sometimes as clear as a whisper against my cheek, sometimes as distant as a train whistle racing away into the dark.

"How is she?"

"Not good. She's had a great deal to drink, and it looks like the bastard used Tilda's Rose."

"Anyone see you bringing her out?"

"No one."

"Understood. Get back to your post."

"Yes, Captain."

I felt a hand stroking my cheek. The careful touch felt so good I think I nuzzled into that palm without meaning to.

"My lady. Stay with me."

"Hnn..."

"Lady Dvorden!"

He shook my shoulders hard enough that I finally forced my eyes open. Lyft was looking down at me where I lay curled on the carriage seat. My vision was blurred, my head swimming, and the withdrawal of his hand from my shoulder left me aching for it with a madness that frightened me. I struggled not to cling to his arm and barely managed to find my voice.

"What... happened?"

"It appears you've been given an aphrodisiac."

"Aphro...disiac?"

I'd suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent fury surging through me. That vile, filthy bastard. I should have killed him while he was still unconscious. I hated myself for leaving Count Nord behind.

Lyft reached toward me as I bit my lip, holding the rage down — then withdrew his hand with a look of helpless discomfort. He turned his face to the window, looking away from me, and said,

"We're heading to Daisy House. It will be hard, but please hold on."

I could feel the rage he hadn't managed to put away in the hard set of his jaw, in the profile he showed me. I tried to put strength into my sprawled body and sit up. I didn't want him to see me like this — wrecked, unsightly.

Lyft must have seen this coming. That was why he'd gone out of his way to warn me. Using an aphrodisiac is despicable, is it? Stupid Teredoa. Did you actually expect chivalry from men like that? I'd talked such a big game about handling it myself, and I hadn't even managed to swing a dagger properly. I was so furious, so ashamed, so pathetic I wanted to fling myself out of the racing carriage — and more maddening still was that my body would not, would not, obey me.

I braced both arms on the seat and barely got my upper body up, then lost my balance and nearly toppled to the floor. Lyft, who had been looking away, moved fast and caught me. The hand gripping my shoulder was hot. No — the skin where his hand touched, and everything beneath it, my whole body, was hot.

"Hah..."

"Just lie down."

Lyft laid me back on the seat without any trouble and pulled the slipped blanket up to cover me. The brush of it against my skin felt alien. I resented him for snatching his hand away so quickly, as if he'd touched something he shouldn't. Afraid I would catch that arm and beg him to touch me more, I pulled the blanket tight and curled in on myself.

I bit my lip and endured the heat boiling up inside me. The anger I'd felt toward Viscountess Cecilia and Count Nord wouldn't even surface anymore. A simmering, bubbling heat coiled low in my belly, and my whole body prickled and throbbed. I clutched the shoulder where his touch still lingered like a brand, and clenched my teeth to keep from making a sound.

I wanted to get back to my room as soon as possible — lock myself away somewhere no one could see me, and hide. I had to get away from Lyft before even the last scrap of shame barely keeping me in check snapped in two.

The carriage was racing at full speed, but time crawled. My body grew hotter and hotter, and the sounds I'd been holding back kept leaking from my mouth. How long I held on like that, I couldn't have said.

The carriage came to a complete stop, and Lyft reached out to help me down. I avoided his hand, pushed the door open, and tried to stand. I all but threw myself out of the carriage — and my boneless legs couldn't take my weight. They buckled. What stopped me from sprawling on the ground was Lyft. A moan slipped out of me at the hard muscle of his arm pressing into my stomach, at the large hand locked around my waist.

"Hah."

Lyft, who had ended up holding me from behind, stepped slowly down from the carriage, and Noel, who had been waiting, hurried over in alarm.

"My lady. Are you all right?"

"Noel."

Noel, who had been reaching out to support me, hesitated at the iron in Lyft's voice.

"Stand down."

Noel tipped his head, puzzled, and stepped back. Lyft lifted me into his arms and strode forward. Noel trailed after us, shaking as he took in the state of me against Lyft's chest.

"Is something wrong with my lady? Shall I call a doctor?"

"No one comes up to the second floor."

Lyft dismissed him and started up the stairs. Every step he took rubbed the places where we touched, and it felt so good it sent a shiver through me. Hold me tighter. Touch me more. The hunger was so vivid it was as if a voice were whispering in my ear. I clenched my teeth and focused on nothing but swallowing the sounds in my throat.

When he laid me on the bed and started to pull away, it wasn't me who caught his arm. At least — it wasn't my will. I held onto him by instinct, and looking down at me frozen like that, he said,

"I'll bring a neutralizing agent."

"Ah..."

I dropped my head and let go of his arm. I hadn't even understood what he was saying. The moment I met those frost-cold amber eyes beneath his furrowed brow, it was like ice water dumped over my whole body. For the briefest instant, a storm of shame overwhelmed the heat, and Lyft left the room with quick strides.

I curled into a ball on the bed and prayed he wouldn't come back. If his hand touched me even once more, I didn't think the shame that had already evaporated would be enough to stop me.

The hand that had been clutching my shoulder drifted, without my meaning it to, toward my chest. As if drawn, it slipped inside my dress and stroked over my breast. When my painfully hard nipple scraped against my palm, my thighs clenched. My other hand was reaching to lift my skirts, searching for a stronger stimulus, when a voice came.

"My lady."

I lay there turned away, frozen like stone, my eyes squeezed shut. Even as shame flared at having been seen in such a state, the approaching footsteps and the dip of the mattress as he sat down on the bed only made me more feverish.

Lyft held out a small bottle filled with blue liquid. I reached for it with a trembling hand. If it would make this obscene agony stop, I would have drunk poison itself.