Page 77 of Owned

“You have said your vows,” Lucian interrupted with a wave of his long-fingered hand. “That is enough—”

His gaze pierced through me, an unyielding force that pinned me as surely as if he’d wrapped ropes around my limbs.

“I didn’t—” My voice trembled, a fragile thing against the weight of his presence.

“You did,” Lucian murmured, his steps slow and predatory. “But let us speak plainly… The moment you gave your blood to the grimoire, you pledged yourself to me.”

I stumbled back, but the room seemed to conspire with him, closing in on all sides. The plush expanse of the bed loomed behind me—a reminder of what he wanted, what he would take.

“No,” I gasped. “You can’t—”

He was upon me and his icy fingers brushed my cheek with a mocking tenderness. A corpse’s caress.

My skin crawled at his touch, and I turned my head with a shudder.

“So much spirit left,” he mused. “I wonder how long it will last?”

Desperation clawed at my insides. The whispers had abandoned me in my moment of need—just like everyone else. Valen, Bastian, Titus—

No one was coming to save me.

“I don’t belong to you,” I said through clenched teeth.

Lucian laughed softly. “Soon... You’ll understand.”

A chill swept over me as his power coiled around my limbs and dragged me toward the bed.

“Please—” The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

“Yes,” he said quietly, savoring each letter like a fine wine.

I flinched as he leaned closer, his breath icy against my ear. My stomach churned with fear and revulsion. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

I felt exposed and powerless as my body reacted to his touch and the caress of his magic as the red smoke of his power wound between my thighs and tightened around my ribs.

“Let me go,” I said.

The words were a whisper, but Lucian’s eyes gleamed.

“Never.”

I was falling backwards and my limbs were heavy weights as they hit the plush bedding. The candles flickered and his magic crawled over my skin with sharp, insistent strokes.

I twisted against it—against him—but there was no escaping the way his power molded me.

He stood over me, a dark god surveying his sacrifice.

There had to be a way to stop this—

Lucian’s fingers brushed the edges of my robe, and my stomach lurched as he toyed with the delicate material. The scent of him was overwhelming; the bitter tang of old blood was barely hidden by the cloying heaviness of rich amber and the ashy familiarity of candle smoke.

“Fight all you like,” he said. “It will make your eventual submission even sweeter.”

“I’ll never submit to you,” I choked out.

He laughed softly again, and a low whimper escaped me as his power surged over me in terrifying waves. “That spirit…” Another soft, cruel laugh. “You amuse me, my dear.”

The room spun wildly as I struggled against him, gasping for breath and sanity. Dimly, I heard myself cry out—a small, fractured sound that came from some part of me I thought I’d buried.

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