Page 5 of Bound in Violet Ink

Drip .

Drip .

“Tell it to me again,” I state, my cavernous cellar nearly pitch black. If it weren’t for the morning sun that has yet to fully rise, not a shadow would exist. It would all be darkness.

Just as my instincts prefer it.

Osman leans his head down, our sight, as Unseelies, able to penetrate this darkness better than others, his eyes even slightly glowing like how an animal’s might within a forest. My senses are even stronger.

How I grow tired of these walls.

“I know you are exchanging letters with her ,” he states, knowing not to say her name for her own protection. “So when I heard that Lord Faust is planning what I told you?—”

“Repeat the exact words, Osman.”

“Why does it matter?”

He lowers his head in submission when I glare at him without forgiveness—he will not disobey any orders related to her. I repeat, “Say it.”

“Lord Faust is planning to buy Silas and his men. Through her . Through marriage.”

The fucker called Faust has no idea who resides in Lady Victoria’s shadows, and if he did, he’d wouldn’t even breathe near her. Not once he knew the obligations I have to Victoria.

It’s time to leave this place. Time for the world to be reminded of who I am.

Another note in another book, which lies on the tattered fabric of my bed. The little flower wrote back, despite the dangers.

How very good of her to write again. She is doing well, even if I question her judgment. She knows to answer the call of her mate, despite having no idea that’s what’s happening.

Kane,

Little flower is quite a unique name to call me… what does that mean?

Also, I am not sure why you write me. I am not sure why I write you. Perhaps you have a guess, instead?

If I were to proffer up one… I’d say it has something to do with wanting to strike at a weakness of my father’s. Lull me into false security. Get me to reveal things I shouldn’t. Otherwise, I can’t imagine why out of all the people that want your attention, you’d give it to me.

Am I wrong?

Victoria

i.e., the little flower who is more astute than most give credence

I smile. I rather enjoy how pointless this dialogue is, in the grand scheme of things. She’s completely wrong, as she has nothing to do with any of my political strategies.

This is entirely personal.

But she clearly doesn’t understand the depth of what that means, so her assumptions are completely in line with logic. She’s making the best observation that she can. Which is a reminder of how very little of the world she knows, and that patience will be needed as that glass cage is shattered?—

I catch her scent, breathing it in like a starving creature who’s finally aware of their stomach growling with avarice, the deep pangs of hunger from an unmated bond fully felt for the first time.

There’s some kind of floral musk, something I have yet to smell in others.

It’s not flowery like roses, but its scent of nectar is one of the most pleasant things I have ever encountered.

Those instincts scratch at me again, telling me she utterly belongs to me, and I to her.

That I can, and should, have her body in every way she needs. Every way I need.

I glance down at the paper as I pull it from my face.

It’s not too late.

I can burn this and never reply.

I should.

But she is alone in that castle, surrounded by strangers. By those she thinks she knows, including herself.

Rescuing her means I will not back away.

If the scent of her letter drives me this mad, what would her actual presence do?

I’d bite her pretty neck to leave my mark as soon as I could.

Fuck her until I’m drained, then pet her hair as I breathe her in.

Let no other male touch her until our bond is solidified.

And then fill her again until she’s leaking down her leg?—

Fuck.

I can feel what even the idea of her does to me, my cock hardening like it’s begging to be scented by its mate.

She has no idea, I imagine, that there exists something between us.

Something above and beyond the two of us.

Something that grows more rare by the year, with wars eradicating mates before they ever meet.

Would I be too much for this false Seelie princess? Would she ever accept me for who I am? It’s the only thought that makes me reconsider… but she knows of me and sent a letter. Even scenting it. She pines for me, whether she knows it or not.

No, I won’t turn away. I will soothe that ache for her.

Stepping out into the bitter morning air of the courtyard, the worn metal door slams shut behind me. The yard is bleak—no grass, rusting equipment, and shadows that stretch far too long for this time of day. The terrain provides just enough to train those who are eager.

Moving with deliberate steps as my boots crunch the hard-packed dirt beneath my feet, I always ensure those here know this space belongs to me when I occupy it.

The change that’s coming will not be weathered by grace or kind hearts; if I am to lead, I must wear a mask at all times.

Those underneath me have all chosen a ruthless leader to follow, one who takes care of his own but doesn’t hesitate to kill others. Even whole flocks of them at once.

I’ll cull the weeds to protect the garden.

Eyes shift to stare once I’m through the threshold.

Some are wary, while others feel the need to openly challenge, even if they won’t get close, and others pretend not to notice me at all.

The remaining half are devout followers who lower their heads in my direction.

I don’t acknowledge them, but I’m aware of who they are, and they know that.

Human men sit low on the crumbling steps, a few lifting weights, others murmuring amongst themselves. And then there are them —the Seelie males. Cleaner, sharper, with the cold arrogance of fae who believe their blood makes them untouchable, even in here.

They’re clustered together near the pull-up bars, laughing too loudly, too performatively, when their attention turns to me.

The air thickens with the musty scent of dominance and tension.

They are the only ones I turn to face. There’s no retreat within these walls, no one to hide behind other than themselves.

“Strange,” one of the new Seelie shouts, voice smooth like glass. “I thought the High Lord’s pet was supposed to be hiding in the shadows. Not strutting around like a wild dog.”

Oh , his loyalty is placed within the wrong male.

One of my greatest pleasures is watching all of the Seelie realize how much they’ve utterly failed.

This is also the reason I operate the way I do—everyone always wants to fucking challenge who is in charge.

I need to assert who I am among these people, and that being approached by me is something they should all fear, not desire.

“We have a peacock living among us now, I see,” I loudly say, sitting down on one of the worn benches with heavy weights next to it, before lifting my gaze to look at him.

He squares up, chest puffed and mouth cocked into a smirk. “You have a false sense of bravado in here, Kane.” He gestures around. “You’re never going to leave here. Can’t exactly rule from these walls, can you? I heard you run this place as if you still matter .”

The motion to the yard stills, every man slowing in his rep to pause and watch what happens next.

I could ignore this cunt. The time to leave is nearly imminent, and I’m not worried about the dichotomy shift here.

But the sharp features of his cheeks are like a mockery of everything my people have suffered.

It’s this very arrogance from all the Seelies that makes them believe they’re superior .

He’s been sent to the Carrows, so that means the world would rather forget he exists.

His death would mean nothing.

I take a moment to stare at him before rising back to my feet, taking a few steps within this silence, catching a glimmer of concern in his annoyingly blue eyes. “And why are you here?” I ask.

“That doesn’t matter.”

I stop only once I’m within arm’s reach of him, aware of all who are present in this yard and that those loyal to me outnumber the rest. “Then neither do you.”

The wrangle that follows is quick as I grasp the Seelie’s throat, feeling the satin texture of his skin under my fingertips as they dig into him, closing off his airways.

The sounds of gasps and muffled struggles fill the utter silence, accompanied by the sickening scent of iron from both of us—he claws at me, but I don’t move, my arm completely flexed as I focus solely on this.

Then, I smell the blood from his mouth. I witness the fear reflected in his widening eyes, a silent acknowledgment of realizing he will die, and it was so uncomfortably sudden, while none of the other Seelie come to defend him.

Gradually, the resistance weakens, the spattering for air fading.

His eyes lose their vitality, and I find peace knowing that one more pompous cunt is removed from this world that broke it in the first place.

Releasing my hold, his body collapses limply to the ground, a heavy thud echoing through the stillness as he sprawls on the ground with no fight.

Casting a steely gaze at his companions, they freeze in apprehension.

Blood drips down my arm and fingertips from where he clawed deeply, my skin burning, but it’s a sensation that means little to me anymore.

“Clean this mess, or the duskborns will. They don’t like cleaning duties, so choose your battle wisely. ”

“ You killed him. We shouldn’t clean it up,” a voice, brave and slightly trembling, sounds off from behind one of the Seelie.

“Theron, continue to cull them until they understand their place here,” I say, giving them my back to return to my seat, lying down after gripping the weights to begin a long, arduous day of training to keep my body as capable as possible.

The sound of the Seelie males quickly changing their words to apology as I hear the many footsteps of my men approach them is the fuel I need.

They’re so afraid of what’s coming, and they should be.

Above, the sky is a bruised, grey canvas, heavy with the promise of rain.

They’ll quickly understand who reigns supreme in this shadowed place.

Who will reign supreme over these lands.

As I focus on flexing and building my body, I move to the sound of another Seelie—sounds like the one who spoke out against me—screeching while he fights for his life, until the only sounds left are of someone dragging multiple bodies.

The ones that survive can live as prisoners in my new world.

And Victoria—thoughts of her almost derail everything within me, my awareness of the surrounding area vanishing almost instantly.

No, I cannot let her go to another. Not now that I know she exists, and that she reaches out to me.

I don’t know what she’ll think of this world I will create, but as long as her mate soothes her, she will learn to adapt.