Page 215 of Owned

Lucian’s hand at my waist felt like a brand as he turned to address our guests. His smile was a curved blade. My body remained pliant under the entity’s control, and it leaned into his touch as if craving it, while my mind shrank away in revulsion.

“My friends,” Lucian called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the garden. The music died away. Conversations halted, and all eyes turned to us. “Your presence has honored us on this most auspicious night. Your loyalty— Your commitment to our cause… It warms my heart.”

The guests watched with expressions that ranged from envy to thinly veiled hunger.

They knew what came next.

They had attended this same ceremony before, with my mother as the sacrifice.

But Lucian hadn’t treated me the same way—all the lewd and disrespectful behavior that had accompanied that first wedding had been absent.

He was almost restrained… but barely.

Valen had put something in his wine. Was it poison? Why wasn’t it working?

“Patience,” the voice murmured. “He’s very powerful… Watch the orb.”

The orb—

I’d almost forgotten about the unsettling red object that followed Lucian everywhere and bathed him eternally in its watchful glow. It pulsed with a rhythm that could only have been a heartbeat, and the mist that swirled around it like a cloak moved at a sedate pace.

“This evening has been… taxing,” Lucian continued. “And my bride is eager to seal this union—” His fingers tightened possessively at my waist as our guests applauded and laughed.

No. Not our guests.

Hisguests.

His prisoners.

“Please, continue to enjoy our hospitality. The celebration need not end simply because we retire.”

Another ripple of knowing laughter passed through the crowd, and I wanted to scream at them all.

“Thank you all,” the entity said with my voice as she offered a demure smile that I would never have worn. “Your blessings mean everything to us.”

Us.

As if Lucian and I were unified in purpose.

As if this union were anything but a prison sentence.

A death sentence.

The crowd parted before us as Lucian guided me toward the house.

I could feel the sharpness of their gazes on my back.

They would talk about this night for weeks, speculating on what occurred behind closed doors, wondering how long I would last before Lucian tired of me.

Just as he had tired of my mother.

The entity kept my back straight, my stride even, and my face arranged in what felt like an expression of eager sensuality.

But inside, I was shattering.

Each step toward Withermarsh was an agony, and I clawed uselessly at the walls of my mind, searching for any weakness in the possession that held me captive.

“I must say, I’m pleased to see you so… eager,” Lucian murmured as we ascended the stone steps to the house. “I expected more... resistance.”

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