How to Marry a Lich

By Lizzie Strong

Fans of The Addams family, Mary Shelley, and eldritch horror will gobble up this deliciously gothic monster romance.

For the last five years, Dahlia Grayskull has sought solace in the shadows of the decrepit, and supposedly abandoned, Rosemont Manor. She's been hiding from her reputation as the shrew of King's Fall, her wicked stepfather, and the shadow of something much more deadly.

Unbeknownst to her, Lord Sebastian Rosemont has been watching her traipse through his deadly garden and read books to the graves in his yard. The Lich Lord is very protective over what he considers his, and Dahlia is his now...whether she knows it or not.

When Dahlia's life and inheritance hang in the balance, she must submit to her mother's dying wish - marry or lose everything. Who better than a Lich to tame this shrew?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzie Strong
• Release date: Feb 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224265237

Lizzie Strong

Hi! My name is Lizzie Strong, I'm a monster romance author where the monsters are spooky scary but the romance is cute and cuddly. I specialize in queer stories with a heavy splash of chaos. I'm here to write stories that make me giggle so hard I snort, love so much it hurts, and spread Bi/Pan awareness and acceptance. <3

Book preview

Chapter one

Dahlia

Dahlia saw her life in flashes as she and Wentworth rolled down the slope into the lake. First a flash of her mother, teaching her to ride a bike. Rocks whooshed past her. Second, her mother braiding her hair with flowers they’d picked from the garden. Water went directly up her nose as she sank belly first into the hidden lake. Thirdly, her mother running into Jackson at the farmer’s market. How she looked so happy. Dahlia sank like a rock in the water. Maybe it’s best this way. Hands dove through the water and grabbed her by the back of the hair. Never mind.

She broke the surface with a gasp as Wentworth wrenched her from the water. He snarled in her ear. You piece of shit—

He pushed her head back under the water. She clawed at his hands, kicking in vain to push herself above the surface. Her right foot caught the side of the rocky lake and shoved herself out of the water. Wentworth yanked her away from the edge. If you won’t marry me, we’ll just get the money when you’re dead.

Fuck you! she spat, catching him in the throat with one of her flailing hands. Wentworth shoved her down into the water with both hands. Dahlia panicked, swinging at him with her fists. Her fingernails caught along his exposed stomach. Wisps of red painted the water. Wentworth kicked her in the sternum, shoving all the air from her lungs. Bubbles filled her vision. No. She grabbed his leg with all her might and brought it to her mouth. This was not how they won. Biting down with all her force, she tasted blood. His screams were garbled by the water.

Then a sharp elbow hit the back of her head and the world went dark.

At least if she went out, she did it kicking and screaming. Not bad for the meanest shrew of King’s Fall.

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Dahlia woke with a gasp for air. She sputtered to life, clawing at the slippery surface beyond the lake. Her body vibrated with panic. Oh fuck, she was just… her attention darted to the water. Crystal clear.

The inside of the mountain was a dark, stormy ocean blue with veins of black and stone gray. The water was clear of any blood or foam. It lapped at the edge of the rock gently. Like it never happened. She gulped air, clawing herself further from the edge. What…happened? Dahlia searched every inch of her memory for what happened. Wentworth elbowed her in the back of the head, and everything went dark.

Wentworth? she choked out, throat raw. Oh no. Scrambling to her wet feet, she fought the whole way up the rocky path to the entrance. The sun set on the other side of the portal. Tears welled in her eyes as she burst from the rock. Dripping wet, sobbing, and trembling, Dahlia was rattled to her core. She stumbled out in the grass. Her feet were heavy, and legs like wet noodles. Finally, her knees gave out and she sank into the grass. "Hello?"

Hugging herself, she searched the dark abyss around her. At least she was at the manor. At least she was alive. At least…what was that? Her attention snapped to the right side of the porch. Movement in the shadows told her she wasn’t alone. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as candlelight bobbed closer.

Oh! Mistress! The candle rushed closer, and she tossed herself away from it. Her back hit the side of the porch, winding her again. Dahlia cried out, her body clenching tight from shock. She hugged her torso and clenched her eyes shut. Just kill me already. A strangled moan, a truly pitiful sound, fell from her lips. Someone knelt in front of her. Mistress, please, don’t move too fast, you’re still recovering.

Dahlia cracked an eye open to see a woman kneeling before her. A wispy woman made of light air and nearly translucent skin. Furrowing her brows, Dahlia leaned closer in the candlelight. The woman smiled softly, her hair whipping around her head like it was made of a hard breeze. Are…are you a banshee?

Ay, that I am, Mistress. Agatha, at your service. I apologize, but I didn’t have the arm strength to carry you out of that terrible cave myself, so I had to run inside and grab blankets to keep you warm till Austin could get you. She set the candelabra upon the porch, illuminating the yard. Dahlia blinked slowly, absorbing it all. The yard was still drenched in darkness, but the fear had disappeared. Instead, it was glowing in sweet amber light. Dancing flames gave it a romantic hue. Dahlia leaned back against the porch steps, exhaling heavily.

I thought I died, she breathed.

Oh no, Lord Rosemont would never allow that, Agatha giggled sweetly. Come, let's get you out of that cold dress. I’m not much to lean on, but I brought blankets, and once you’re inside, I can bring you fresh clothes. Oh! Oh, and I can start up the hearth in the library. You can stay there to warm up.

Dahlia squinted at Agatha, befuddled. "Wait, you mean…in this manor?"

She jabbed a finger at the house beside her. The house she used to gaze at for hours on end and dream of breaking inside.

Where else? Silly Mistress, Agatha chuckled, stroking her arm. A thick, wool blanket was dropped into her lap. Floating off the ground, Agatha took up the candelabra. Dahlia was able to see her more clearly. The wispy woman was without legs; instead she existed completely as a ghost in a long gray gown. It was fashionable back in the Dark Ages, with pearls and beading, the skirt fading into the night like the edges of a dream. Her skin was translucent and eyes wide, but she was stunning. She would have once been a painting made real with how sweet her heart-shaped face was. Long, onyx hair bobbed and weaved over her head from behind a silvery headband.

Dahlia groaned as she climbed to her feet again. Her legs were wobbly but stayed underneath her. She draped the blanket around her shoulders. Instantly, she felt better wrapping the fabric tight. It settled her back into her body, soothing the terror that once pumped through her veins.

Wait, so this house isn’t abandoned? she sputtered.

No miss, Lord Rosemont has lived here for over nine hundred years. I’ve only lived here for the last three hundred. Austin’s been here the longest. She offered a ghostly arm to Dahlia and nodded her cute chin toward the porch. Dahlia took it, finding solid purchase. However, if she were to put too much weight on her, she imagined she’d slip right through. Taking the steps, one at a time, she crept up to the main porch.

Excitement and embarrassment swirled in her empty stomach as the door cracked open before her. Would it have opened if she’d ever gotten the courage to try it?

She followed Agatha through a darkened hallway. Everything was cast in darkness. The walls were too inky to distinguish between paintings and the paint. It didn’t matter, Agatha kept her moving till massive doors creaked open before them. The cool hush of a library fell over her. Walls that ran three stories up were filled from edge to edge with books. Thick ladders hung on tracks that ran the length of the room. At the center, in between a maze of shorter shelves and desks, was a massive rug covered in pillows. She sat in a plush leather chair at the right side, blanket clutched to her body. Agatha floated to a stone fireplace. Without even tipping the candelabra, the hearth roared to life.

Life and dancing amber light filled the library around her. Dahlia inhaled sharply, studying the room. Wow, he’s…got quite the collection.

That he does, Agatha nodded sweetly, floating back. She stopped to put a hand to Dahlia’s shoulder. I shall return post haste, please, relax, warm your toes. You have nothing to fear here, Mistress.

Why do you keep calling me that? Dahlia cocked her head to the side.

Agatha paled, if that was even remotely possible for a translucent being, and grimaced. "Oh, uh, well…it’s…good manners?" She floated away without another word.

Huh, yeah, good manners. Dahlia squinted suspiciously at the books around her. As much as she’d like to think it was actually good manners, or maybe Agatha was truly being too kind, there was something missing there. There was a whole lot missing—like fucking Wentworth!

And what was that thing about nothing to fear, she huffed, snuggling down in the chair more.

The fire dried her legs and the bottom edges of her dress. Agatha returned shortly and put clothing on the arm before quickly excusing herself to make food. She didn’t even give Dahlia a chance to ask her any questions.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever the bards say.

She draped the blanket on the chair to dry as she wobbled to her weak feet. There was a metal line in front of the fire for drying damp clothes. It took effort to slough the sundress off her body. Her socks were nearly impossible. Poor boots. She was exhausted before she was naked. Dahlia shivered for only a moment before the fire fought off all the cold in her bones. She spread the clothing she’d been gifted with and sighed with relief. A massive white night shirt with puffy sleeves engulfed her in a dry hug. She stepped into a pair of underwear that suspiciously fit her broad hips fine. Finally, she pulled a silk dressing robe around her and allowed herself a moment to just…stroke the fabric. The kind of thing princesses wear.

A giddy burst of excitement filled her chest as she hugged her torso and spun in front of the fire. Despite her sopping wet clothing and the trauma, she was warm, and she was relatively safe. For the moment, she was allowed to celebrate.

Once she’d thanked her host for the dry clothes and a chance to regain her strength, she could go home. And what? What will you do at home? She grimaced, staring into the abyss of the library above her. He’s at the house, likely waiting for you.

Going home wasn’t an option. Wentworth was willing to kill her for her mother’s last gift. Jackson had definitely told him the options were marriage or death. If she came home, she likely wouldn’t survive the night. Her stepfather was willing to torment her, send a goon to chase her through the woods, he’d stop at nothing till he had it all.

Defeated and upset, she sank to the floor in front of the fire. Her thoughts were garbled and swimming as her hair began to dry.

Muffled voices came from beyond the door. Even the crackling of the fire wasn’t able to cover them up as they approached the door. Dahlia struggled to her feet seconds before the library door flung open.

Ah, Lady Dahlia, apologies, a warbled voice bounced off the walls as the fire died with a hiss. "I would have been here to greet you, but there were a few matters that needed my immediate attention at the council building."

Dahlia backed away from the door, hugging her arms closed around her. Had she just crawled out of the pan and fallen directly into the fire?

She wasn’t talented in magic. In fact, Dahlia Grayskull didn’t have an ounce of magic in her whole body. Which was impressive for an elf. Something she’d come to accept after years of pity parties. But there was something she retained despite it all…an ability to sense magic. Like a tingling that started at the base of her skull and traveled down her spine. A hard shiver wrecked her composure as a figure approached her. Agatha followed him, holding up the candelabra high.

Drenched in shadows, she could see his plague doctor’s mask. Long, angular bird beak of a nose, large ocular lenses with copper frames. Grommets on the side matched the oxidized copper tip of his nose. He was dressed from neck to toe. A high-necked button down fashioned behind a stylish vest. His jacket had a long flap to the back that fluttered with his fast stride.

My lord, Agatha exhaled, before acknowledging Dahlia with a short nod. Dahlia Grayskull, meet the Lord of Rosemont Manor, Sebastian Rosemont.

She was wordless as a lanky man skulked up before her. He was six feet tall, towering over her by a head. Like a bird of prey, he loomed over her before he sat back on his heels. And he felt overwhelmingly of magic. Dahlia was choking on it as she stared up at the round lens of his mask. Necromantic power, the kind that could raise armies or destroy kingdoms…the kind that people talked about in adventure novels.

Whatever Lord Sebastian Rosemont was…it was dark and grossly powerful.

Pleased to make your acquaintance, she squeaked. Dahlia extended a hand to him.

His beak turned down and he stared at her hand in silence. After a painfully long moment, he bent at the waist, held her hand to the base of his mask, and it shifted. The candles went out with a sharp hiss, and she was drenched in darkness. Soft, cold lips pressed to her knuckles. A frozen limestone turned in her stomach as he stood back to his full height…still holding her hand. The candles and fire within the hearth snapped back to life, filling the library with amber light.

Shadows danced across his mask as he stared through her, burning holes in her very soul. And she couldn’t even see his real face. The honor and pleasure is all mine, Dahlia Grayskull. I hope this is not too forward of me…but I hope you’ll find your stay here at Rosemont Manor to your liking.

She wheezed, nearly laughing hysterically as she spoke, Why would that be forward?

Well, because I don’t imagine you’ll be returning home.

Right.

About that. She slipped her hands out of his thick leather gloves. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped back from him. Her lungs screamed for air. Dahlia struggled to find the words to speak. Who was this woman and where was Dahlia Grayskull, the shrew of King’s Fall? Dahlia was never at a loss for words. Until this very moment, it seemed. She stammered shortly before finding the strength in her vocal cords to form words. What happened here? Where’s Wentworth?

Agatha and Sebastian were deathly quiet, staring at her. Sebastian folded his hands behind his back, slouching back on his heels. Why don’t you get something to eat and a good night's rest, then we can discuss the events from earlier.

Why don’t you tell me right now? she barked.

Agatha turned invisible except for the candelabra in her hand. It bobbed in the air.

Sebastian was quiet for a long moment before a soft chuckle filled the air around them. The mask didn’t seem to mess with his voice too much, thanks to the open grommets down the beak. His shoulders trembled as his laugh rumbled from deep in him. You’re very lively, Miss Grayskull.

And you’ve very secretive and suspicious, Lord Rosemont, she huffed, putting her hands to her hips. One minute I’m drowning with a knock to the back of my head, the next I’m awake on the side of the lake. And Agatha tells me that this house is not, in fact, abandoned or haunted, but in fact had occupants who let me traipse along the yard for five years!

Sebastian hung his head slightly, giving her the top of his hat. Ah, so my small secret has already been spilled.

"For five years, Lord Rosemont? Seriously!" She stepped closer and flicked his hat. His head jerked up. Their eyes met, so to speak, as she glared through the lens. Dark magic sorcerer or not, she would not be made a fool! She jabbed a finger against the fluffed collar of his shirt. "Where is Wentworth? And why am I alive? And why does your staff know my name when I’ve never seen any of you?"

He took her hand so sweetly it stole the fire from her soul. Just for a moment, though. He cupped her hand in his gloved palms and sighed in defeat. I have much to explain and atone for, Miss Grayskull, and I truly apologize. You have to understand that it’s hard to explain myself when most run away screaming within the first few seconds of meeting me.

Yeah, I noticed that, she used her free hand to motion at the fire with exasperation.

The perks of being a Lich, I’m afraid.

Her heart stopped. A Lich? That’s what the feeling was. The overwhelming wash of power, the stomach curling necromantic magic…Lord Sebastian Rosemont was a Lich.

How…how have I never…heard of you? She glanced over her shoulder as if to look toward the city of King’s Fall. A pair of gloved fingers brought her chin back to face him. Her eyes were lost in the inky pools of his mask.

Because I am the Lich that protects this city. My sweet Dahlia, I am the magic that keeps King’s Fall safe.

And he’d saved her…she knew for a fact without him telling her that he’d saved her from Wentworth. She’d been saved by the Lich Lord and was now at his mercy in his manor.

Fun.

Chapter two

Sebastian

My lord? Austin whispered, hunched over so that he was speaking directly into the side of Sebastian’s mask.

Yes, Austin? Sebastian leaned toward his assistant as if he were listening, but he wasn’t.

What are we doing? Austin twisted at the same time Sebastian did on the steps. Up on the third floor of his manor, the pair had been lingering at the end of the hall. While Austin was looking for a reason to be there…Sebastian had been drawn there. Dahlia was up here. His chest ached in a way he’d forgotten it was capable of doing. In the last few hours, he’d been reminded of the awful weight of a heart inside his chest.

Sebastian froze on the top step, staring at his pale ogre assistant. We…are… he trailed off, scrambling for anything, something. Collecting data to formulate a hypothesis.

Ah! Of course! Austin beamed a toothy grin, nodding eagerly. Then his face fell into a befuddled pinch. Wait, my lord, what data are we collecting?

Austin had been Sebastian's very first successful experiment. A creation made entirely from the dead and brought to life. Long ago, in a land long since forgotten, a young Sebastian ran across an ogre floating on a piece of broken ship. Slain in battle, stomach open and missing its components, he’d been picked clean by vultures. Merely an empty shell, having lost all the color in his flesh. Sebastian dragged his carcass back to his lab and stuffed him full of parts from all over. He’d been determined to prove himself and his magic. He could make life even when all he could cast was death.

And viola, his assistant was born. He’d named him Austin after the chunk of ship. St. Augustine. Poor vessel didn’t even make it to the bottom of the ocean when Sebastian found it.

Sebastian peeled back his mask to see his pale fleshed, stitched together assistant. Austin was eight feet tall, a little heavy footed, but generally a bundle of sunshine. He smiled with a bit of slack in his jaw. His tusks had been snapped and Sebastian had used narwhal horns to substitute the top forty percent of them. All in all, Austin was cute. Except for the stitching across his flesh, the massive muscles, and the yellow irises on red eyes. He’d never been able to cure him of the haunting stare.

Putting a hand to his assistant’s shoulder, he squeezed. That, Austin, is indeed…the question, isn’t it?

Austin nodded softly, grinning to himself. Sebastian watched it fall slowly. Austin whispered with shame, I don’t get it, sir.

I’m here to see how well Dahlia does in the house, Sebastian exhaled, returning his attention to the bedroom door down the hall. Agatha had tucked Dahlia into bed and left over an hour ago. He supposed Dahlia would be asleep by now. That would be a realistic expectation, wouldn’t it?

However, the thought of poking his head in just to check was terrifying. And he was the biggest threat to the people of King’s Fall. With one crack, he could drop the shield over the city and let them succumb to the horrors of the realm. Dragons, arch fiends, a great many foul things lingered outside his protective shield. King’s Fall had been under his protective shield for so long, they’d stopped whispering his name in secret. Most forgot who he was…until he was called to aid the city.

There were some who were never allowed to forget him. Like the council.

Are we testing if she’ll grow ill, my lord? Austin whispered with a tinge of horror.

What? Austin, please, Sebastian huffed with irritation. We’re gathering data to be able to hypothesize if she’ll be happy here.

Ah! Of course, wait…why wouldn’t she be happy here? Austin stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

My boy, that’s a question for a different day. He patted his assistant's shoulder and motioned for him to go back downstairs. Will you go check on the beakers and fluids? We’re close to completion on the Hinderson project, I don’t want to lose progress because it grew too dry.

I’m on it, sir, Austin saluted Sebastian before tiptoeing down the stairs. At least he’s being conscious of his steps. Sebastian waited for Austin to be out of ear shot before he slipped his mask back onto his face. One of the reasons she wouldn’t want to stay.

Sebastian was inches from her door, his gloved fingers close to wrapping around the handle, when he froze.

Who was he fooling? His heart sank as he retracted his hand. A glorious, lively beauty like Dahlia? He stepped back from the door and stared at it longingly. What would she want with a creature such as he? Folding his hands behind his back, he strode away from her door.

A light creak sounded behind him. Feet on the old floorboards. His stomach lurched as the door behind him whined open. Her soft, raspy voice sent shivers up his spine. Lord Rosemont?

Please, call me Sebastian. The confession lay on his tongue, weighing down his voice. He turned on his heel steadily. Clearing his throat, he bowed slightly at the hips. Miss Grayskull, I hope your room is comfortable.

"It…is very comfortable." She was lying. He could hear it in her tone as she glanced away.

Is there something I can do? He didn’t want to sound eager, but a foreign fluttering filled his chest. She was still in the dressing robe, but it was only loosely thrown around her. Like she had rushed to put it on and open the door. He couldn’t fool himself into hoping, but the idea lingered.

No, no, I don’t want to bother you, you’ve already done so much, She hugged her arms around herself.

Now, Miss Grayskull, it would be no bother for me to aid you. It’s been a long day for you. He held back from encroaching on her space. Knotting his hands behind his back, he studied every inch. Her white hair was in a loose braid, frayed edges sticking out at every angle. Freshly washed, and dressed warmly, she wasn’t shivering like when he’d first come face to face with her.

I…um…the room it just… She leaned against the doorway. Earlier, she had been truly a firesome personality. Demanding answers, not giving him a moment of mystery, she was a marvel. Yet, looking at the floor, wringing her sleeves, the same woman stood before him. Frightened.

Too quiet? he breathed.

It’s just I’m used to the sound of the city. And I thought I’d really enjoy the quiet but then I can hear my own breathing. She licked her lips nervously.

Ah, yes, unfortunately there is no bird song or chattering squirrels or owls to hoot out here, they stay off the property. And, I do fear, the rest of the staff is either asleep or so far below you would never hear them. He motioned to her room. What would you like to hear?

Noise, she confessed with an exhausted, heavy exhale.

Well, I can conjure the sounds of a full forest of woodland creatures. Or a bubbling brook, or the ocean crashing against the shore—

Wait… really? She perked up.

Would the ocean interest you? Don’t get your hopes up. He was almost breathless, if he ever needed to breathe. Her eyes were sparkling again as she nodded. Stepping backwards into the room, she waved an arm to welcome him inside. It shouldn’t have felt like being welcomed into someone's private quarters. This was his home! He’d put her in his guest room! And yet, seeing her there, hugging herself, watching him eagerly, it set his insides ablaze. One Oceanic sound, coming up.

Sebastian faced the four-poster bed and spread his arms out wide. At first, there was nothing but her breathing. Then, slowly, it faded into existence. A sound he once was uniquely familiar with; it almost touched him. Almost. The distinct sound of waves, lazily lapping at a rocky coastline in between crashes. Foam sizzling, a soft chirp from birds flying overhead, a brush of an ocean breeze. It was like home.

He faced Dahlia and the same lurch of his stomach from before returned. Her hands were clasped over her mouth. His mouth ran dry. She was tearing up as she stared up into the ceiling. It sounds just like it.

You like it? He squeezed his vocal cords as hard as he could, managing the words through a choked throat.

Thank you, she nodded vigorously, striding across the room briskly. Dahlia spun once, hands clutching against her chest. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she held her head back. Listening.

He lingered in the darkness of the room with her. Not even the moon dared break through the windows of his manor. Not that he’d ever needed light to see, Lich privilege. She stood by her bed, soaking in the sound. Stop fooling yourself. His chest ached harder as she opened her eyes and inhaled sharply, a smile gracing her lips. She could never. A pained sound broke out of his traitorous lips. Her head snapped toward him again as he laughed lightly to cover it up. If it’s not too loud, I shall leave you to your rest then.

She loudly swallowed, It’s perfect, thank you.

Why does the ocean bring her to tears? He craved the answer, but social etiquette reminded him it wasn’t kind to ask questions of a scared house guest. With a soft bow, he excused himself from her room. The click of the door behind him stirred a warmth in his chest. His heart raced, leaving him uncomfortable in his skin.

Dahlia Grayskull was his! ...but not his. He righted himself and strode down the hall. Taking two steps at a time, he galloped down the stairs. Sebastian headed toward his lab. He stopped at the bottom step, a foot away from the main floor, as Agatha held up a large orb. He groaned, Don’t tell me it’s the Lord Commander.

I heard that, Lord Rosemont.

He scooped up his crystal orb, whispering his thank you to Agatha, and headed for his private study. Apologies, Aravis, but today has been a long day and I still have work that needs to get done.

Not like he would actually get work done, but he definitely didn’t have time for this!

I’m calling because I need to clarify what the hell happened today, Sebastian. Aravis Blightwood’s —the current Lord Commander—face appeared on the orb in his hands. Sebastian entered his study and kicked the door shut. His crystal orb floated through the air and landed on its stand at the corner of his desk. Sebastian flopped into his seat, kicking his legs up onto the other end of his desk.

What happened was a man named Wentworth McMillian trespassed on my property and assaulted Miss Grayskull. The man attempted to drown her on my property. Sebastian folded his hands on his stomach.

I have a report here from some business owner, Jackson Versailles, that Dahlia Grayskull attacked Wentworth on company property. Aravis rolled his large, obsidian eyes. He was a bird faced man with striking bone structure and fluffy black hair. Aravis Blightwood might be the second scariest man in King’s Fall. And he was currently the man in charge of keeping the peace within the city. Too bad that the city didn’t seem to want peace.

Hogwash, Sebastian hissed.

I had a feeling as such. However, you know as well as I do, I have to chase down all leads in a missing person case. Aravis exhaled heavily.

Missing person? Ha! Sebastian shook his head in disbelief, Missing?

Well, until we find a body, Wentworth McMillian is considered missing. Aravis stared through the orb and Sebastian scoffed. Silly politics, this was precisely why he didn’t like being Lord Commander. Aravis was warning him point blank. Wentworth’s body better not resurface…but the Lord Commander didn’t have to worry. Aravis sighed again, Anyway, I just need to ensure Miss Grayskull is with you?

Yes, she is officially under my protection. Sebastian dropped his feet off the desk. Whether she likes it or not.

What was that?

Nothing, dearest Lord Commander, feel free to come see her yourself if you wish to, but at a more decent hour. Sebastian folded his hands over the desk.

I will, Aravis huffed, picking up the globe. Have a good night, Lord Rosemont.

You as well, Lord Blightwood. Sebastian snapped his fingers and watched the magic disappear from the orb. He stood up from his desk and adjusted his suit. There was much work to be done…and little time until Dahlia woke in the morning.

Chapter three

Dahlia

Dahlia had no idea the ocean sounds would hit her with a visceral reaction. Yet, she could hear the waves crashing and it hit her harder than a bulldozer at max speed. It washed over her, pun intended, and drowned her in it. Despite the incident at the hidden lake earlier, it brought her back to being a child.

Every year her mother was alive, during the summer, they would pack their bags and go to the beach. A swimsuit each, sunblock, floppy hats, a few paperbacks, and just them. No one else, it was the Tatiana and Dahlia Show. They would rent out a cabin along the rocky coast when the sun was blazing but the ocean was perfect. The best part was jumping off the cliffs into the ocean, then climbing the carved staircase back to the top. Wizards would enchant floating sandbars in the water for people to rest on.

Dahlia heard the sound and was back to being a child, holding her mother’s hand, and leaping into the air only to crash into the water.

She dreamed fondly of the past and woke up well rested. It was the first time in ages she’d slept that good.

Well, if she considered all the circumstances, it made for a good night's sleep. A bed made for princesses, where the mattress and pillows were the perfect level of fluffy but firm. The heavy down comforter kept her warm, but the house was frosty. Perfect hibernation weather. And with Sebastian’s sound charm, she drifted to sleep. Her body ached as she peeled back the blanket. Skin prickling, she set her toes against the cool floorboards. There were fluffy slippers set out for her. Yellow little ducky slippers, adorable, must have been Agatha’s idea. She stuffed her toes in them and rose from the bed.

It took a few good twists to crack her back and release the stiffness in her neck. Then she shuffled to the windows. Agatha had closed the curtains with an onyx rope sash. As she untied it, sunlight crackled through the windows. She pulled the curtains to the side and tucked them behind brass hooks. The panes were crystal, and not glass. Light illuminated the room in fractals. A glorious rainbow was cut into geometric shapes along the burnt ash colored floor.

In fact, the whole house was black. The walls were a faded black, the floors ashy and dark, even the accents were obsidian. It was luxurious and gothic. The walls were all framed with swirling accents, the floors, though ashen, were glossy. The rug within her room was a deep plum. She stepped onto it and took a full inventory of the room in the daylight.

It was massive. A four-poster bed with rich purple curtains and black sashes. The walls were striped with matte and glossy black. A standing dresser filled half a wall across from her, and a vanity with a porcelain sink and long mirror took up the other wall. There were two doors opposite each other at the back of the room near the windows. One open, and clearly a bathroom from the tile peeking up at her in the daylight. The other called to her. Open me.

She tiptoed across the creaking floors, taking the handle in hand. A zap of electricity, cold and numbing, shot through her arm. Dahlia ripped her hand back. Clutching it to her chest, she slowly worked it open. Her face pinched uncomfortably. What was that? There was no magic on the door, not that she could tell. So, like the fool she knew she was, she reached for it a second time. This time, having the sense to use her skirt like an oven mitt, she grabbed the brass knob.

It was cold. Frozen tundra cold.

However, the knob turned and opened toward her. A gust of frozen air bit into her cheeks as she blinked in the face of a frozen wasteland. Snow as far as the eye could see, rocky cliffsides, glinting sun directly burning her corneas, tundra. She blinked slowly, stepping back and closing the door. After a long moment, she ripped the door back open and was greeted by the snow once more.

What the fuck? She poked her head out the door, snooping around. The door was embedded in a rock face somewhere up a mountain. Dahlia shivered as she reached with her free hand. Fingers brushing against damp snow, she yelped. Holy dragon’s balls! It’s real! She danced with giddy excitement in her ducky slippers as she scooped up snow in her hand and tossed it. The ball of white fluff exploded into snowflakes. She blinked up through the winter gust. Flakes caught in her eyelashes.

It’s real. She ripped back, shutting the door as the temperature grew too cold. Hugging herself, she giggled like a school child. She rubbed her arms vigorously to return herself to warmth.

Only, something sneezed within her wardrobe.

Dahlia stilled, eyes wide. If there was a fucking mountain in that door…what was behind the wardrobe. Agatha told her last night she’d put some dressing options in there for her. Don’t tell me. Dahlia twisted like a creaking chair on old wood toward the wardrobe. Whatever was inside it sniffled. Fury licked her insides. It’s not an it…it’s a who! She stomped to the door of her wardrobe.

Flashbacks to finding Jackson’s goons everywhere in her home, snooping on her, made her irrationally angry. Anger, unquenchable anger, pumped through her fast as she ripped the doors to the wardrobe open. She was greeted with a plethora of gowns and a shivering being hidden in the skirts.

Large, white eyes peeked up at her. A haunted face like skin melted against bone, with a large gaping maw full of razor-sharp teeth. Huddled within her wardrobe, limbs twice the size of the torso, the creature blinked at her. Then, like a bomb went off, they both shrieked. It screamed at her like a shrieking rabbit, scrambling from the wooden closet. She screamed because it screamed. Grabbing the closest thing to her, she swung with all her might. Dahlia caught the creature in the back with a long, ivory handled umbrella.

The creature howled, clawing hand over foot to get away from her. She swung and beat it over and over, knocking it across the room.

Her bedroom door exploded open and other people flooded inside. Miss Grayskull!

Everything froze as long arms wrapped around her waist and wrenched her away from beating the creature again. Her back collided with the wall. Air rattled around the walls of her chest as she panted. Sebastian Rosemont loomed over her, caging her in his long arms. He was sucking in air sharply enough that the beak of his mask dented inwardly for only a moment. Then, with a heavy exhale, he spoke. Please, don’t bludgeon the ghouls.

They both looked down at the umbrella she had clutched to her chest. He chuckled softly, reaching tenderly between them and plucked it from her vice grip. Especially not with umbrellas. They’re not sturdy enough.

She wheezed, gaze roaming over his shoulder. Sebastian leaned back from her, poking the umbrella back into the wardrobe. Her attention was on the creature cowering behind the wispy skirts of Agatha. She glared. The ghoul yelped and scampered out of the room.

What. Was. That! She gulped down air in between each sharp word.

A ghoul, my lady. Apologies, I thought I had cleared your wardrobe of any spiderwebs or beasties, but ghouls live in enclosed spaces. Agatha gave an apologetic grimace. She clasped her hands in front of her in apologetic prayer.

And how did it get there? She waved her hand at the wardrobe flippantly. Her attention returned to Sebastian. He lingered just an arm’s length from her. Heart racing, she tried to force the heat in her cheeks to go away. He’d just whisked her like she weighed nothing.

He was a green bean on walking sticks! And yet he was able to pull her away and cart her like she was a pillow and not a whole person. Dahlia wasn’t ignorant of her body. She rather liked her wide hips, thick thighs, and the squishy pillow of her stomach. When she wore clothes, she wore clothes. But at her size, he should have struggled to hold her back. He was a lanky, twig of a man!

Ghouls can crawl through the walls. They’re not sentient creatures. They’re closer to the mentality of raccoons, they feed off dead things and trash, but they can be…sweet, when you don’t beat them. He chuckled softly, making her heart skip a beat. My apologies for being brutish with you, Miss Grayskull. I heard your scream and thought the worst. But I’m glad it was a simple misunderstanding.

A simple misunderstanding? She laughed breathlessly, sliding across the wall to her wardrobe. The frosty door caught her attention for a moment, and she whirled to face him again. Why does that door go to a mountain?

Oh, Agatha, Sebastian, and a third voice from the door laughed nervously. Sebastian continued, That’s where that went.

You just lose portals to the frozen tundra willy nilly? She tossed her arms out to her sides.

We needed it for something once, Agatha winced.

Miss Grayskull, I apologize, this house must seem like a nightmare. Sebastian bowed his head, taking a step further away from her. She lurched after him and he stopped.

Frozen in place, she stared up at the obsidian lens separating her from her host. Despite the cold, impassive face of his plague doctor mask, she could almost imagine a look of embarrassment crossing it. Her throat tightened. Why did she care? Because he’d saved her from death and gone out of his way to accommodate her…the least she could do was be kind to him. Dahlia wasn’t good at being sweet.

Dahlia Grayskull had a reputation of being a horrendous bitch. Not that most of her rage wasn’t warranted. She believed deep in her gut that those who hated her had earned every drop of her ire. Yet, it was those who hated her that got to control her reputation with others. Thankfully, Beatrice wasn’t like that. A pang returned to her heart as she imagined what madness her best friend was going through not knowing where she was.

First things first, be nice to the generous Lich that saved your life! She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head. It’s not a nightmare. Sorry, the ghoul scared me, but I was genuinely thrilled about the mountain door. I’ve never been anywhere with snow.

He visibly softened, folding his hands behind his back. Well, we can explore the mountain side at a later time. I’m sure I have skis and a sled around here somewhere.

She chuckled, You sure do have everything here but electricity, it seems.

Unfortunately, electricity and crystal tech find an early demise here. Outside of King’s Fall, there isn’t much in terms of reception. But I do have a crystal orb should you need to speak with someone.

Oh great…stranded in a magic, haunted house with a Lich and no cellphone service? Fuck…where was her phone? Dahlia groaned, hanging her head. Beatrice is going to freak out. They spoke every day, got lunch three times a week, her best friend was going to lose her mind when she found out what happened.

Dahlia didn’t like to weigh her down with her baggage, Beatrice already had a whole trunk full of things to deal with. She didn’t need Dahlia’s family drama. But…it’s gone past drama this time.

Of course, we can address that once Lady Dahlia is dressed and had a hearty breakfast, my lord.

As if everyone in the room realized she was only in a sleeping shirt that brushed at the top of her thighs, Dahlia tugged at the hem. Sebastian ripped away from her, storming to the door. Very good, Agatha, I’ll…I’ll be in the lab.

Dahlia stared at the banshee with wide eyes. She cocked her head and hissed, "You waited till just now to remind me I’m practically naked?"

Well, I didn’t want to interrupt. The banshee looked anywhere but Dahlia.

Dahlia reigned in her attitude and turned to the wardrobe. Agatha shut the bedroom door and joined her. Right…getting dressed. She stared up into a closet full of gowns as gorgeous and ancient as the house. Agatha pulled out a few pieces and set them against the bed. So, my lady…what would you like to wear today?

Okay, just this once, until you figure out what happens next…play dress up in the princess gowns and explore the magic, haunted mansion. She smiled to herself plucking out a silvery dress. Agatha clapped her translucent hands. Excellent choice, my lady!

Chapter four

Sebastian

She beat the poor thing with an umbrella! Now, Sebastian wasn’t exactly fond of ghouls. But he wasn’t for nearly bludgeoning them to death with an accessory. Had it been the way the ghoul looked? Or the mere fact it was lurking in her wardrobe. He didn’t want to assume, and yet the deepest, darkest parts of his subconscious were screaming. Never. Take. The. Mask. Off.

Sebastian had paced a line on the floor of his lab while Austin worked all the systems back online. Thankfully, Austin had not mentioned that his boss seemed tense. Sebastian wasn’t sure where his newly awakened emotions led, but he was all over the place.

First, he was tickled pink that she’d nearly killed a pest of necromancy with an umbrella. And in ducky slippers, no less! Secondly, he was terrified she would scream like that should she ever happen upon his face. Third, he was endlessly thrilled to find she liked his home and enjoyed the whimsical nature of its magic. Fourth, he was trying not to think about her in only the night shirt. Not thinking about it was easier said than done!

Sebastian had her in his hands. Her warmth made his heart thump loud enough he sounded like a drum solo. Against the emptiness of his ribs, the only thing alive within him was the passion for her. He hadn’t felt warm in a long time. Then, he salaciously roamed her body with his heinous gaze and savored every inch of her. White hair frayed and wild, cheeks beet red, breasts pressed against the shirt, thighs clenched together, a vision.

For the first time in over a hundred years, lust awakened in him like a fever. It was rapid and merciless.

Don’t torment yourself with foolish dreams…she could never… His beating heart stilled again. Inside his corpse, silence. Be realistic. Sebastian stopped pacing and faced his assistant. Austin glanced up from the burners. My lord?

Is the Hinderson Project ready for testing? He squeezed the words out of his throat.

Austin beamed from ear to ear, frolicking across the floor. Sebastian had, long ago, grown used to the shake of his lab when his assistant was too excited.

His laboratory was the entire basement level of the manor. Endless space of porcelain tile and chrome countertops. There were different stations within the open space. From preparation work, to investigations, to the actual meat and bones of his experiments, to staging, he did keep his workstations clean. He’d instilled in all his staff to keep a tidy space. They were Necromancers not Necromessers.

Austin stopped by a large tube of glowing liquid hidden by a curtain. With a wide swing of his arm for presentation, the pale ogre pulled back the velvet fabric. His newest creation. Sebastian strode to the front of the tank. Within it, a bubbling mess of blue liquid and a creature. Skin the color of dried seaweed, tentacles stitched to its face and fingers, a better copy. His creation floated in the liquid with no need for oxygen yet. He wasn’t alive, merely synchronizing. He’d taken the body of a dead orc, replaced the head with that of a destroyer (psionic tentacle creatures), and then replaced the original tentacles with those of a kraken. The brain, as well, had to be rewired. Destroyers were hive minded creatures, very few break free and think their own thoughts. He needed something that wouldn’t catch interference. Something strong enough to take