Xavier

Damned

Scrubbing had become a natural motion for me.

Relentlessly cleaning, polishing—since I was just a child, I had been trained on how to keep every inch of the estate spotless. From sunup to sundown, seven days a week, I would work hard to make sure there wasn’t so much as a speck of dust within my designated areas.

Dining halls. Walking corridors. Extracurricular activity spaces.

Mostly common areas.

Only older, hand picked maids were chosen to handle the royal families more personal areas, like the Purebloods sleeping quarters or the King’s office.

I’d been cleaning all day, just like any other day, but I was cramping.

My body should be used to the discomfort by now, but on particular days of the month, I was quicker to exhaustion. Drained.

Unfortunately, today was one of those days.

Crampy and a bit dizzy, I’d been struggling to keep my eyes open, to stay alert, when I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Too scrawny.”

I didn’t have to turn from where I methodically dusting all of the bookshelves in the library to recognize that voice.

“And short.”

Young Pureblood females were being brought to the castle in droves to attend Ricco’s coming of age ball. It was tradition for the males of the Oscillius household to use the ball as an opportunity to meet all available Pureblood females, and rub elbows with all the notorious Kings within the Circle.

It was a top priority event with high profile attendees which meant everything must be perfect.

After the ball tomorrow, Ricco would have exactly one week to choose his Queen.

“Are you really a maid?”

Hesitating, I glanced over my shoulder, careful to keep my head bowed.

I couldn’t look her in the eyes, obviously, but I caught a glance of blonde hair, pale complexion.

It was Genevieve Semerov. One of dozens of siblings from her father’s multiple bed slaves, she had been sent here numerous times in the past. I suspected she was the reason why Ricco had chosen to go off to Russia in the first place. She was a shoo in for becoming Queen which, with her short temperament, would make her a good fit for Ricco but a living nightmare for the maids.

That includes me.

“Well?” she snapped.

Giving a careful nod, I stared at her shoes.

Heels.

Red bottom heels.

I was certain every piece of clothing adorning her body was designer.

She took a step closer and I shivered, aware of the danger of closer proximity.

“What did the Prince want with you?”

Oh. I scrunched my brow, aware that word must travel fast. I couldn’t very well tell her he was harassing me. If I said anything to suggest that he favored me, I would fall victim to her jealousy. Likewise, were I to state that he was somehow unhappy with me, she would probably ask why he hasn’t just killed me yet.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

So what should I say?

“I don’t have all day, maid. Speak.” The command was thick.

I just blurted out the first thing that popped into my mind. “He caught me looking at a peach.”

“Oh?”

“He reminded me the penalty of theft,” I stated nervously, trying to stop my voice from shaking. It was realistic, at least. A hungry maid lusting after a ripe peach.

A soft hum.

I stood perfectly still, waiting.

“Get back to work,” she said, dismissive. “Those shelves won’t clean themselves.”

Turning, grateful that she was letting me go, I scuttled back to dusting, thankful for the ache in my arms, the strain in my legs as I lifted myself to my toes, trying to reach as high as possible. The faster I worked, the sooner I could get back to the boarding house to rest, I reasoned. And hide.

From the commands.

The silver eyes.

The unwarranted violence.

In my rush to finish, I’d bumped a book on a high shelf and, as it fell, I watched a hand whizz out to catch it. Panicked, I felt his other hand press to my hip, his front pressing to my back. “A peach, huh?” His voice was a light laugh at my ear with an underlying threat. “Who taught you to lie to our kind so well?”

Frozen, I felt his nose run along my neck.

The involuntary shiver that ran up my spine was horrible.

Terrifying.

The creature hovering over me, bigger and stronger, threatening—I’d stopped breathing, sweat already building up on my palms. My knees shook, heart racing as his hand slipped from my waist down to my rump, grabbing me in a way that was painful. Gritting my teeth, I felt him push me up against the bookshelf, panicking slightly as it wobbled, the wood crashing painfully into various parts of my body.

“Stop, please--”

I’d whimpered it before I could stop myself.

And worse, I’d turned.

To take in silver eyes, a carnivorous smile.

Ricco was smiling down at me.

Elated.

Dangerous.

And utterly alone with me, I realized with mounting panic.

Trying to stay calm, I thought, for one frightened moment, that I could reason with the beast behind me. Opening my mouth, carefully dropping my eyes, I tried to look submissive from where I was crumpled against the wooden shelf, helpless in his grasp.

“I have work to finish,” I whispered, hoping that excuse might keep him at bay.

He had to know that my work was important, right?

“The ball is soon and I—”

“You’re bold.” Deep, his voice was almost a growl. He listed my crimes with an amused lilt in his voice. “Lying to Genevieve. Talking back to me.”

He’d slammed me forward again, knocking more books to the ground. I felt tears build up in my eyes, hand crushed against the shelf, trying desperately to stop him from cracking my head against the wood. “Please—"

“Yes, that’s much better,” he said, gripping my chin, leveling me with a deadly look. “You’re so much prettier when you beg.”