Moonlight

The transformation was, above all else, remarkably beautiful. The bride's ribs cracked and reshaped beneath the white lace of her dress; a masterful ballet of sinew and claw. The Great Hall of Blackwood Abbey was illuminated by candlelight and the soft, factured mosaic of moonlight through the stained glass. The sound of the rhythmic, wet thrum of shifting anatomy echoed throughout the cavernous space. This primal cadence was met only by the shallow, steady breathing of the sole human witness. 

Isabella did not flee, nor did she scream. She merely watched as the ceremony transfigured from the expected elegance of the Ton to beastly ferality that knew nothing of status nor decorum. 

Sublime, she pondered to herself, her eyes heavy with dark fascination as she looked around the hall. She noticed a wide array of queer creatures: some with matted fur and gnashing teeth, while others scarcely appeared much different from their human forms, save for the predatory glint in their eyes. 

An orchestra of strings and drums began a low, bouncing tune as the housemaids and butlers began trickling in, carrying plates and large chalices with mechanical precision. Isabella felt a thrill of icy curiosity prickle her skin.

What do the damned consume? 

“Blood, mostly,” a voice, silken and warm, whispered near her ear. “But I am not familiar with the eating habits of Minotaurs nor Banshees.”

With a sharp inhale, Isabella turned to face the voice. She was met with the visage of a strikingly handsome man; his sandy brown hair was perfectly coiffed, and his skin was so pale and flawless it resembled the white marble of the floor. He wore the attire of a high-ranking gentleman, yet his amber eyes held a depth of centuries that no mere Lord could possess. 

His thumb swiped a stray, dark droplet from the corner of his mouth, and he slowly licked it clean. 

“My apologies, it seems I have forgotten my manners in the thrill of it all,” he laughed, his gaze dropping to the pulse leaping in her throat, “I am Edward, the Lord of Crowley. And you, Miss Isabella, are the only thing in this depraved hall that still smells of the living.”

“How are you aware of my name—and not to mention my thoughts?” she asked hurriedly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

Edward’s lips curved into a sly, sophisticated smile. “My kind is given unique gifts. I happen to be able to reach into the mind of others, and yours is quite impossible to ignore, I fear.”

“Showing off again, I see,” a new voice rumbled. It was deeper and huskier than Edward’s. 

Isabella turned to find a man who looked like he had been sculpted from the earth. His waistcoat was unbuttoned just enough to hint at the powerful, broad chest beneath. Unlike Edward’s marble-cool skin, this man radiated a feverish warmth. 

Never in her life did Isabella think she would garner the attention of two strikingly handsome suitors in the same night—let alone two Otherworldly men. 

“My name is Jacob,” he leaned down, his breath hot against her cheek, “and while the Lord here likes to listen to your heart, I’d much rather feel it racing against mine.” 

His eyes traced the curve of her bosom as he reached for her hand. The orchestra reached a crescendo, the drums mimicking the frantic thud of her pulse, as liquid heat bloomed in her core. 

“Unfortunately for you, Jacob, Miss Isabella, and I are in the middle of a most intriguing conversation,” Edward said, his voice dropping an octave. “And it would be most rude of you to interrupt.”

“Everything is intriguing to you, Edward.” Jacob sighed, stepping closer. “And Miss Isabella is her own woman, not a prize to be won. She is free to choose whoever she fancies.”

They both turned their gazes on her simultaneously. Isabella drank both of them in—one ice, one fire. The cacophony of the Great Hall faded into the background, and the air grew heavy with the cloying scent of jasmine and iron. She took a deep breath and gave her answer before her courage could falter. 

“Why choose?” She whispered, “I am no maiden, I assure you, and I have long since ceased to shy away from scandal.”

The drums began anew, a primitive driving beat. Their gazes darkened instantly, fueled by raw, animalistic desire. 

“Perhaps,” Edwin murmured, tucking yet another stray hair behind Isabella’s ear. “We should retire somewhere quieter. Somewhere… private” 

“The library,” Jacob growled, his hand tightening at the small of her back as he began to steer her toward the door. 

***

The door to the library shut with a heavy thump, severing the sound of the Great Hall. Before a breath could escape her, ice-cold lips clashed into hers, and fiery hands worked with a frantic urgency on the stays of her dress. A gasp escaped her mouth as the stays finally gave way—her silk gown pooled at her feet—and the cool air of the library hit her skin. 

Calloused hands kneaded her supple curves, “You are absolutely decadent, Isabella.” Jacob whispered into her ear. 

Isabella’s head fell back against Jacob’s chest as Edward nipped at the cord in her neck. The sting was sharp but intoxicating, causing her body to go languid in their arms.

 “She is more than decadent,” Edward said against her skin. “But tell me, Miss Isabella—you may not shy away from scandal, but are you willing to be utterly ravished?”