Page 22

22

SERA

I do not sleep.

How could I?

My skin still tingles from his touch. My lips still burn from his kiss. The memory of it thrums beneath my gut like something alive, wrong, inevitable.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my heart thudding too fast, too loud. I tell myself that what happened meant nothing.

A mistake.

One we both should regret.

Yet I still feel him.

The way his grip branded me. The way his hunger devoured.

The way I let him.

I close my eyes.

It should have been disgust. It should have been rage.

But it wasn’t and it scares the hell out of me.

Suddenly, hands appear on me.

A rough palm clamps over my mouth, cutting off my breath.

My eyes snap open. Panic detonates.

I thrash, wild, my limbs jerking as I struggle. A sharp voice hisses in my ear.

“Hold her.”

There are hands everywhere. Gripping. Binding. Too strong.

A cloth is shoved against my lips, damp, sickly sweet.

I try not to breathe it in. I fight.

One of them grunts when I twist, my knee ramming into something solid. Someone curses, a snarl of frustration, and a hand strikes across my cheek.

Pain flares white-hot, snapping my head sideways. My vision lurches.

My body betrays me.

Breath shudders in, too sharp, too deep.

The world begins to spin.

The room fractures at the edges.

Darkness pulls me under.

Cold.

That is the first thing I register.

A deep, aching kind of chill that settles into my bones.

Then there’s the weight.

Something heavy presses against my wrists, my ankles. Metal. Chains.

I try to move. The sound of rusted iron scrapes against stone.

My breath stirs dust in the shadows.

I am not in my room anymore.

Underground.

The word slides through my mind, sluggish, heavy. Like a curse.

The stench of damp stone thickens the air. Old water. Mold. Something rancid, festering.

I blink, my vision adjusting to the dim glow of lanterns flickering along the walls.

This is not House Drazharel.

The walls are wrong. The silence is too empty.

The shadows too deep.

That’s when I hear the voices, mocking as they realize I’m not unconscious anymore.

“She’s awake.”

Boots shift against stone. Someone steps closer.

I force myself to sit up, ignoring the way my limbs protest. My wrists ache where the chains bite.

Figures emerge from the gloom, faces flickering in the half-light. Not Drazharel colors.

Not Drazharel insignias.

My stomach lurches.

House Velkiron.

A noble steps forward, his smile sharp, pleased. Wrong.

Dark blue robes drape over his lean frame, embroidered with symbols I don’t recognize. His hair is too pale, his skin too smooth.

Everything about him is polished. Civilized. False.

“Such a rare find,” he murmurs, his voice slick with amusement. “I must admit, I had my doubts when the reports first reached us. But now…”

He tilts his head. Watches me too closely.

“You are something else, aren’t you?”

His gaze drags over me like a hand, lingering where it shouldn’t.

Disgust curls in my stomach.

I keep my face blank. I say nothing.

His smile only widens.

“She has spirit,” he muses to someone behind him. “Good. I was hoping she would.”

Another noble laughs. A woman, her voice like silk wrapped around steel.

“She won’t have it for long.”

Laughter. Too many voices.

This is a game to them.

My hands tighten into fists, nails digging into my palms.

I do not shake.

I will not.

The noble crouches before me, tilting his head like he is studying something fascinating.

“Does he know yet?” he asks.

I blink. “What?”

His grin sharpens. Cruel.

“That you’re gone.”

My stomach twists.

Veylan.

Does he know? Did he hear me?

I was alone when they took me. No guards. No one watching.

Did he notice? Would he even care?

A memory slashes through me.

His hands on my skin. His lips against mine. The storm inside him, hungry and violent and consuming.

Something in my gut clenches.

I should not want him to come for me.

But I do.

I press my lips together.

The noble sees it. He leans in, voice lowering.

“Do you think he’ll save you, little human?” His breath ghosts against my ear, mocking. “Do you think you mean something to him?”

My throat closes.

I look him in the eyes.

And I laugh.

Soft. Sharp.

His amusement flickers, momentarily thrown.

And I take it.

Use it.

Lean in, closer than I should.

I let my lips part, let my voice dip into something low, something silk-soft and deadly.

"Why don’t you unchain me and find out?"

His smirk falters.

For a second—just a second—the shadows shift.

A ripple.

The smallest tremor of something that is not his own.

His pupils dilate. His fingers twitch.

I almost have him.

He wrenches back.

Rage flashes in his eyes, dark and sudden.

A hand slams across my face. Pain explodes.

My head snaps sideways.

The taste of copper blooms against my tongue.

I breathe through it.

I do not make a sound.

He exhales slowly, regaining himself. “Clever.”

A finger traces my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I let him see the fire behind my eyes.

His amusement returns.

“You’ll make a fine little pet,” he murmurs, rising to his feet. “Once we break you.”

The others laugh again.

I bare my teeth.

I will never break.

He turns, motioning to someone beyond my sight.

“Prepare her for transport.”

I still. What?

He casts a final look over his shoulder.

“Lord Veylan will be very interested in what we’ve taken from him.”

Then he is gone.

The laughter fades with him.

I am left alone.

The silence presses in.

My heart hammers against my rib cage.

Not from fear.

From rage.

They think they’ve won.

They think they’ve taken something from him.

They don’t understand.

I am not his.

And I am not done.