Page 231 of Owned

More than Lucian’s replacement—less than the monster I feared I might turn into.

Bastian’s pale eyes narrowed as they returned to me, and his head tilted in that curious, predatory way he had. “Your eyes,” he blurted out. “They’re different.”

“How?”

“Paler,” Valen supplied, analytical even now. “Like his. But not completely. There’s still you in there. Green at the edges.”

The description sent a chill through me. How much of Lucian had I taken into myself?

How much of me remained?

“What are you thinking?” I asked them directly, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer. Through our blood bond, I caught fragments of their emotions—caution, awe, curiosity—but not the clarity I needed. “Tell me.”

Titus spoke first. “I’m thinking that nothing will ever be the same.” His gaze flickered to his father’s corpse before returning to me. “And I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Both,” Valen said quietly. He hesitated, then added, “What you’ve done shouldn’t be possible. The transfer of power of this magnitude... It should have killed you.”

“Perhaps it did,” Bastian interjected, his tone somewhere between joke and genuine theory. “Perhaps what we’re looking at isn’t Avril at all, but something wearing her skin.” His eyes glittered with morbid fascination as he raised one of his daggers at me. “Are you still in there, little bird?”

“I’m still me,” I insisted, though even to my own ears the words sounded hollow. My voice carried new undertones and harmonic resonances that hadn’t been there before. “Just... more.”

“More powerful,” Titus said flatly. “More dangerous.”

“Morefree,” I countered.

“Did he touch you?” Bastian asked suddenly, the question blunt and raw. “Before you killed him. Did he—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, but his meaning was clear enough.

I realized with a start that beneath their caution and fear; they were concerned for me. Even now, faced with the monster I might become, they worried about what had been done to me.

Something warm unfurled in my chest, a feeling so human and familiar that it was almost jarring against the supernatural power that coursed through my body.

“No,” I murmured. “He tried. But my father stopped him.”

Three pairs of eyes widened in perfect synchronicity.

“Your father?” Valen echoed in confusion.

Bastian’s laugh was sharp. “Dario Velez came back from the dead to helpyou?”

“He’s been trapped in the grimoire,” I explained. “I— performed a spell. A willing possession. I didn’t— I hadn’tmeantto do it. But I was desperate. He took control long enough to protect me. Long enough to get me to this moment.”

Understanding dawned on Titus’s face. “The binding spell. It wasn’t you?”

“It was,” I admitted. “And it wasn’t. He guided my hand, but I wanted you safe. I knew what Lucian would do if you intervened too soon.”

“So you planned this?” Bastian asked. “All of it?”

I shook my head. “Not all. I didn’t know I would absorb his power. That was...” I searched for the right word. “Unexpected.”

Valen stepped forward, the first of them to come close enough to touch and I reached for him instinctively. He drew back just a little and his fingers hovered just above my arm.

“May I?” he asked.

I nodded, and his touch was gentle as he set his palm under mine and used his other hand to trace the black whorls and tendrils that marked my transformation. His skin was warm against mine. I’d missed his touch.

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “Your body is adapting to contain power it was never meant to hold.”

“Will it kill her?” Titus asked sharply from where he still stood, unwilling or unable to come closer.

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