Page 14 of Savage Crown

She doesn’t realize it yet.

She’s mine now.

Not in the way she fears—not yet.

But she will be.

7

SERAPHINA

The blood on my palm has dried.

It lingers as a thin, dark stain against my skin, a silent reminder of the promise I just made. A promise sealed in flesh, in heat, in something I don’t dare name.

I should feel victorious. I secured Rylan’s protection, wove myself into his world before he could shut me out.

Instead, I feel trapped.

Not by chains, not by steel, but by something far worse.

By him.

Rylan watches me from across the room, his long fingers wrapped around the stem of a crystal glass filled with deep, inky wine. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, studying me with an expression I can’t decipher. He hasn’t spoken since the blood pact.

He doesn’t have to.

I feel him.

His presence coils through the room, a silent current that brushes against my skin, warning me that I’ve stepped too close to something I shouldn’t want to touch.

I exhale sharply, tearing my gaze away. "What now?"

Rylan smirks. "Eager, little thief?"

I hate that name. Hate the way it slips from his lips like silk, like possession.

I cross my arms. "I just don’t like waiting for whatever game you’re playing."

His chuckle is quiet, indulgent. "You think this is a game?"

I meet his gaze without flinching. "I think everything is a game to you."

Something flickers in his eyes—something I don’t recognize. But then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. "Tell me, Seraphina," he drawls, voice smooth as sin. "How do you feel about noblewomen?"

The shift in subject is abrupt. Calculated.

My stomach knots.

I school my features into careful indifference. "I try to avoid them."

His smirk deepens. "How unfortunate."

A sharp knock at the door shatters the air between us.

The energy in the room shifts, crackling with something colder, sharper.

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