Page 67 of Fire and Silk

I look at him, unsure if I should feel offended or flattered.

“How can I trust that this isn’t some sort of twisted game meant to hurt me?” I ask.

He steps closer. Not threatening. Just enough that his shadow falls over mine.

He leans down, meeting my eyes, and his voice is low when he speaks.

“You and I both know you’re not that valuable.”

The words hit hard. My face flushes, not from shame—but from the heat that comes before fury. But I say nothing.

He keeps going.

“You’re an orphan with an addiction problem. You dropped out of college. You’ve been passed from room to room, job to job. I could have you snuffed out tonight and no one would come looking. The man waiting for you can only do so much.”

Then he says my name—my full name.

“Lira Falco.”

The name lands heavy .

“You were never meant to be collateral,” he says. “You were written into this empire long before either of us knew.”

“You can leave with him,” Severo says, the words low and sure. “And remain ordinary.”

I don’t move. My pulse thrums beneath my skin like a drum beaten too hard.

“I don’t know what he’s promised you,” he continues, “but at the end of the day, you’ll still be nothing. Nothing without him. Nothing without his love. And if one day he decides—like all men do—that he wants something new and shiny, you’ll be tossed to the side like a used-up rag.”

The words land like stones.

He pauses only long enough to watch heat catch in my throat.

“Just like he tossed you away before.”

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. My chest tightens. I hate that he knows. I hate that he’s right.

But he doesn’t stop.

“If you choose me,” he says, “I will give you power. As long as you give me vengeance.”

His voice no longer feels cold. It feels carved. Like marble warmed by hands.

“You will rule over men and lands. And no man or woman will ever cast you aside. Not him. Not me. Not anyone.”

A tear escapes. I don’t brush it away.

He steps closer, and his hand—still gloved—rises to my chin. He tilts my face up toward him. His eyes are wide, fixed on mine, and something burns there I can’t name.

“I see hunger in your eyes,” he says.

I can’t breathe. My lips part, but no sound comes.

“It’s raw. It’s livid. It’s not greed—it’s genuine starvation. I want that. I need that.”

He leans closer. The world narrows to the space between our faces.

“Marry me,” he whispers. “I will satisfy you.”