Page 53 of The Madness Within

The air thickened between us like fog before a storm. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then rose, slow, calculating, hungry.

“I don’t regret what I did,” I whispered, chin tilting up, voice steel-wrapped in glass. “But I should hate you for it.”

“You will,” he said, stepping closer. “But not yet.”

His hand came up, two fingers beneath my chin, lifting it just enough. Just enough to make me feel small. Or fragile. Or seen.

Then he kissed me.

No warning.

No hesitation.

Just the sharp press of lips and the quiet groan of something unraveling deep inside both of us.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t soft.

It was a promise disguised as a mistake.

And it stole the air from my lungs.

He pulled back before I could chase it, before I could ruin it with thought.

My breath caught.

His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth like he was erasing evidence. Or savoring it.

“Get some sleep,” he said, voice frayed at the edges.

Then he turned and left.

And I stood there… Wanting him to come back and do it all over again.

Chapter Twenty-One

??The Beast Beneath

Ember

The next few days didn’t get better. Well, they did. But not in any way that mattered.

Dorian Vale made sure I had everything.

Fresh pastries that melted on my tongue. Fruit so ripe it bled. Coffee so rich I forgot, for a moment, that I was still a captive. But kindness wasn’t kindness when it came from a man who knew how to weaponize it.

He watched me too closely. Clocked every shift of my body. Every sigh. Every lie I told myself about what this was.

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. He had already taken something far more dangerous, my attention.

On what felt like the millionth day, he unlocked the door. “Care to stretch your legs, podcast girl?”

I rolled my eyes but followed. I was too curious not to. He didn’t restrain me. Didn’t shadow my every move. He just… let me walk beside him. Like I belonged here.

The manor was enormous. Opulent, yes, but old. It groaned like it remembered things no house should. I spotted figures moving in the distance. Staff. But none of them made a sound. They moved like whispers, appearing only when he looked their way.

“You keep ghosts on payroll now?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at a tall woman who glided past, head bowed, skin pale as wax.

“Of course not,” he replied, amused. “They’re not ghosts.”

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