Page 221 of Owned

The moment was approaching.

Lucian’s eyes raked over me with naked hunger. “You are exquisite,” he murmured, stepping closer. “A worthy vessel...”

Vessel.

The word chilled me to the bone.

Not a wife, not a partner—a vessel.

For his child? For his magic? For something worse?

“Come here,” he commanded and extended a hand stained with his dark magic.

My father guided my body toward him with convincing eagerness and laid my fingertips on Lucian’s upturned palm, allowing him to pull me against his chest. His skin was cold, unnaturally so, and the contact made me scream in shock even as my body responded according to my father’s direction.

“Don’t!” I cried into the void. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Lucian’s hands traced possessive patterns across my skin, and I felt his magic probing at the edges of my consciousness,seeking entry. But something blocked it—my father’s presence, perhaps.

“There’s something different about you,” Lucian murmured against my ear, his voice tinged with curiosity rather than suspicion. “Your magic has... shifted.”

“I’ve changed a great deal,” my father replied smoothly, my hands moving to unfasten Lucian’s remaining garments. “The grimoire has… opened me to many things.”

Soon we were both naked, illuminated by the sickly glow of the candles.

The bed loomed before us, but I couldn’t look at it. I couldn’t bear the thought—

How far was I going to be pushed against my will?

My heart hammered against my ribs as my father guided me to sit on the edge of the mattress and my hand inched closer to where the dagger lay hidden.

Lucian followed, his movements slower than before. Was it the poison taking effect, or merely the deliberate prowl of a predator savoring the moment before the kill?

“I have waited for this,” he said as he knelt before me in a grotesque parody of supplication. “Since the moment I saw you— I knew you would be mine.”

His confession turned my stomach.

“How long ago was that?” I screamed. “How old was I?”

My voice echoed and then faded away.

“He married Julia to bring you back into his hands,” the voice whispered. “And hewillpay the price—”

Lucian’s pale eyes burned into mine.

“Oh, I know,” my father said, and suddenly there was a shift in my voice—deeper, harsher, with an edge of masculine triumph that could not be disguised.

Lucian froze, and his eyes widened with the first flicker of uncertainty I’d ever seen in them.

“What did you say?” he demanded, pulling back slightly.

“I said, I know,” my father repeated, and this time he made no attempt to disguise the change. My voice emerged transformed—still coming from my throat but unmistakably male, resonant with a power that was not my own.

Recognition dawned in Lucian’s expression, followed swiftly by disbelief and then volcanic rage.

“Dario,” he spat, and the name sounded like poison on his tongue.“Impossible.”

“Not impossible,” my father replied, using my voice as his instrument of torment. “You arrogant bastard. Did you thinkdeathwould stop me from protecting my daughter? Did you thinkdeathwould stop me from claiming my vengeance?”

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