Page 72 of Owned

The motorcycles roared away through the tall gates and disappeared from view.

Fuck.

The sound echoed off the clouds and I looked down at my grass stained slacks and grimaced at the tears in the delicate fabric.

The things I would have traded away for some sweatpants or jeans… but my closet was still a nightmare of designer clothes and delicate fabrics.

Valen had offered to buy me something more appropriate—why had I refused?

No.

I knew why.

The servants who shifted through the house like ghosts… they’d find anything that didn’t belong in a second, and then Lucian would know.

I didn’t want him to know anything.

I didn’t want him to suspect.

The only reason Valen had agreed to let me touch the motorcycle today was because Lucian was away…

And now I was alone.

No.

Never alone.

The grimoire rose in my mind—a shadow more than a whisper.

The voices had been growing stronger.

More insistent.

My fingernails dug into my palms and I sucked in a sharp breath as pain radiated through my hands and arms.

A drop of rain struck my cheek, and I glared up at the clouds before I hurried back to the gravel path that led back toward the mansion.

I was safer indoors.

I could have laughed.

What a stupid thought.

I wasn’t safe anywhere.

A rumble overhead forced me to move faster, but my muscles ached and I bit down on my lip to keep from groaning as I rushed toward the house. The rain came down just as my foot hit the stone stairs and I flattened myself against the wall of the house as the fat drops pelted the ground and lightning flashed overhead.

I tried to push back the hopeless feeling that crept up my spine.

It didn’t matter if I’d crashed the bike a hundred times—if Lucian named the date of our wedding before I was able to control it; I would never have the chance to escape.

A gust of wind swept rain across the porch and I pushed open the heavy door, not caring as it slammed closed behind me.

The marble foyer was dark and silent, a hushed reminder of how empty the house was without them here. Even the servants seemed to have vanished into whatever spaces they haunted when Lucian was away. The air smelled faintly of incense, and it burned at my throat as I made my way up the wide staircase toward my room.

The grimoire pulsed through my mind.

It was relentless.

---