Chapter Text
1910: London, England
Lillian Carnegie wept on her wedding night. Not the delicate tears expected of a sentimental bride, hidden discreetly behind a lace handkerchief while relatives smiled knowingly downstairs. These were the ugly, shaking sobs of someone waiting to die.
The celebration had long since quieted. The laughter below had faded into the distant clink of glasses and carriage wheels departing the estate. Servants extinguished lamps one by one until only the bedroom remained lit by a modest fire and a scattering of candles.
Someone would come for her soon. Her new husband. The word alone made her stomach knot.
At eighteen, Lily had imagined marriage a hundred different ways over the years. She had imagined affection. Awkward first conversations. Children with bright eyes. A little cottage somewhere beyond London where she might grow old beside someone who laughed easily.
Instead, she sat perfectly still upon an enormous bed she had never wanted, dressed in ivory lace that suddenly felt less like a wedding gown than a burial shroud. The sleeves reached her wrists. Tiny pearl buttons climbed her throat. Beautiful and proper. Suitable for a corpse.
She had begged. She had begged her parents until her voice disappeared. Lord and Lady Carnegie had listened in silence while she pleaded not to marry Lord Ashcombe. Then her mother had simply reached across the breakfast table and folded Lily’s trembling hands between her own.
“Think of your duty.” Ah, duty. It was such a pleasant word for a death sentence.
The Carnegie fortune had vanished years before, though no one outside the family was meant to know. The gowns continued arriving from Paris. The silver remained polished. Dinner parties continued as though creditors were not circling like wolves. Someone had to pay. Lily was simply the only possession valuable enough.
The first time she met Lord Ashcombe, every instinct she possessed had recoiled. He smiled exactly when he ought to. Spoke kindly and laughed politely. He even kissed the back of her gloved hand. Anyone else would have called him charming. Lily had wanted to scrub her skin raw afterward. There had been nothing she could name. Only the certainty, deep and immediate, that she stood before something profoundly wrong. He wasn’t monstrous. That would have been easier. No… he was a man pretending to be a man.
She’d tried convincing herself she imagined it. Until she’d learned about the wives. One had fallen from a balcony. Another succumbed to a mysterious fever. The last had drowned in a lake scarcely deep enough to cover her knees. Three unfortunate tragedies. Society adored unfortunate tragedies. No one questioned wealthy widowers. And now, there would be a fourth. Her.
The room felt suffocating. Lily pressed trembling fingers against her mouth as another sob escaped her. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
No one answered. She slid carefully from the bed onto the thick carpet, gathering her skirts beneath her. The floor was cold through the satin. She folded her hands. Closed her eyes. The words came automatically, as they had every Sunday since childhood.
“Our Father…” Halfway through, her voice broke. Everything inside her broke with it. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered instead. Tears splashed against clasped hands. “I’ve tried to be good.” Another gasping breath. “I’ve obeyed my parents.” Another. “I’ve prayed.” Silence answered in return. “I don’t want to die.” Her shoulders shook. “Please…” Her voice became little more than air. “If anyone can hear me…” She stopped. She had meant God. Of course she had initially. But fear has a way of stripping language down to its barest bones. “If anyone is listening…”The candles flickered. “…please save me.” Silence answered once again. Long enough that shame began creeping into the edges of her grief. How foolish. She laughed once through her tears and bowed her head lower.
Then, she heard it: three measured knocks. It wasn’t loud. They certainly weren’t hurried. Simply… Knock. Knock. Knock.
Every hair along her arms stood upright. She looked toward the bedroom door. It had been locked. She knew it had been locked.
A man’s voice drifted through the oak. Smooth, cultured, and of amusement. “You called?”
Lily didn’t breathe. Her heart hammered so violently she thought she might faint. “…Who is it?” she managed.
There was a pause after she spoke. Then a soft chuckle.“Why…” The handle turned. “I am the one who answered.”The lock clicked. Slowly, the door opened. A gentleman stepped inside as though arriving for afternoon tea rather than entering the bedchamber of a terrified bride. Impeccably dressed in black. Gloves without a wrinkle. Dark hair and perfect posture. His face unfairly handsome, carved with impossible precision. Only his eyes refused to belong: crimson. They were red. And somehow she knew, they were also ancient. And hungry.
His gaze settled on her where she remained kneeling on the floor. Then, very slowly, he smiled. “Good evening,” he said pleasantly. His eyes drifted over the lace of her gown, lingering just long enough to make her feel as though she were being assessed rather than admired. “What a lovely bride.”
Lily instinctively crawled backward until her shoulders struck the side of the bed. “Who are you?”
The stranger inclined his head with impeccable manners. “I,” he said, “am a demon.” He smiled a little wider. “And, Miss Carnegie… you invited me in.” He walked into the room smoothly, closing the door behind him. “Now tell me.” His voice was hypnotic, almost conversational, though his crimson eyes regarded her with the patience of a predator deciding whether its prey might prove entertaining. “What can I do for you?”
“I just…” Lily faltered. She had gone to church every Sunday since she was old enough to walk beside her mother. Every sermon had warned of temptation, of devils wearing pleasant faces, of evil arriving with a smile instead of horns. She knew the man before her was no man. But then, neither was the man she had married earlier that evening.
The demon closed the distance between them with unhurried steps. He reached out, brushing the back of one gloved finger along her cheek. His touch was cool. “So shy,” he murmured. “So delicate.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You must desire something. Otherwise, you would not have found yourself praying on your knees.”
Lily lowered her eyes. “I…” Her throat tightened. “I just want to live.”
For a heartbeat… He was silent. Then he laughed, genuinely. The sound was rich and warm, echoing softly through the room as though she had delivered the evening’s finest joke. “To live?” he repeated.
She nodded. “I don’t want to die.”
The laughter faded into a smile as he regarded her once more. Not her face. Not the tears drying on her cheeks. Her soul. It was untouched. Pure in a way that had become extraordinarily uncommon. How fascinating. Humans summoned demons for vengeance. Wealth. Power. Revenge against those who had wronged them. This girl, this trembling bride, wanted nothing more than another sunrise.
“You’re wasting your soul,” Sebastian observed with quiet amusement.
Lily considered his words. She knew exactly what he meant. If she accepted, there would be no Heaven waiting for her. No forgiveness. No second chance. Only the certainty that, when her wish was fulfilled, the creature standing before her would claim what remained. She looked toward the bedroom door. Beyond it waited her husband. The man who intended to murder her. Then she looked back at Sebastian. He was a monster. But unlike the other… This one had been honest. Her voice was calm when she answered. “Then it’s mine to waste.”
Something flickered across the man’s face: approval. His smile widened, slow and brilliant. “Well said.” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Then we shall make a contract… my sweet.”
Her eyes widened subtly at the nickname. “It’s…” A faint blush warmed her cheeks despite everything. “Lily.”
“Lily,” he repeated thoughtfully, as though testing the sound. “How charming.” His claw-like fingernail traced lightly down her cheek. “A lovely name.” She wasn’t certain why that embarrassed her. Perhaps because he said it so naturally. Perhaps because no one else had spoken it kindly that entire day. “In our contract,” Sebastian continued, “I shall grant your wish. In return, a seal shall bind us together until your desire has been fulfilled.”
“And then?”
“Then,” he said pleasantly, “your soul belongs to me.”
She hesitated. “Will you… eat it?”
His smile became almost feline. “Yes.” He leaned forward just enough for her to see the impossible crimson of his eyes. “Does that frighten you?”
She answered honestly. “A little.”
“Hm.” His expression remained unchanged. “Good.” He straightened and extended one immaculate gloved hand toward her. “Do we have an agreement?”
Lily stared at the offered hand. One monster promised death. The other promised life… For a price. Slowly, she placed her hand in his. “Yes.”
His fingers curled around hers. “Excellent.” He released her and circled behind her, his gaze settling on the intricate lace fastenings of her wedding gown. “Now then… Where shall I place the seal?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Does it matter?”
“The more visible the mark, the stronger the bond.”
She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “I’d rather it remain hidden.”
“And where would you hide it?”
“My back.” She rested a hand lightly between her shoulder blades. “Here.”
“As you wish.” His claw slid effortlessly through the delicate lace. The fabric gave way without resistance, peeling open as though cut by invisible shears. Lily gasped as cool air brushed against her exposed skin. Sebastian’s palm settled gently against the center of her back. “It will hurt,” he said.
“I know.”
“No,” he replied softly. “You don’t.”
Before she could answer… she felt agony. Something older than heat and fire. It felt as though a brand had been driven into her very soul. A muffled scream tore from her throat as Sebastian’s free hand covered her mouth. Her body arched instinctively against the pain. The room spun. The candles blurred into streaks of gold. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears until even that disappeared beneath the burning.
Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. The last thing Lily saw… was the handsome looking down at the fresh contract seal hidden beneath her torn gown. He smiled with satisfaction. As though he had just acquired something exceedingly rare.