Page 41 of Owned

I wanted to see Valen.

He had been the one who’d told me about my mother’s betrayal—how she had revealed my father’s plans to Lucian.

What else did he know?

Or had he only known enough to hurt me?

Nothing he could say would hurt me now.

Not like before.

I took the stairs two at a time and my pulse quickened with every step. The hallway on the main floor stretched before me and the shadows seemed to recede as I passed. I made an abrupt detour to the side door that led into the garden and hesitated only long enough to draw a deep breath before I wrenched it open.

The air outside was heavy with the remnants of the rainstorm and the scent of it was thick in my nostrils. The distant rumble of thunder was just a murmur now, a low growl that echoed through the clouds. I stepped out onto the slick stone path and winced at the bite of cold as it seeped through the thin soles of my shoes.

I hurried into the garden without looking back at the house. I wanted to disappear in the shadowed pathways and encroaching greenery. I wanted to find him.

Pale lilies edged the far end of the garden like an army of watchful ghosts. The garden stretched like a patchwork of living nightmares, lovely and threatening at the same time. It was easy to get lost in this maze of topiaries and sharp rose bushes… but something seemed to pull me along the pathway.

A hedge of roses choked the wall and thorns stood out like sharp teeth, glinting with the promise of pain.

I thought I saw him through the trees.

I stood in the archway and called Valen’s name.

My voice was sharp against the quiet and I worried that I’d imagined seeing him… that the grimoire was playing tricks on my mind.

Its whispers were quiet now—that wasn’t always a good thing.

There was no answer.

Just the rustling of leaves and my own breath, sharp and panicked.

Maybe he was already gone.

I could go back now, hide behind the folds of the heavy velvet curtains that covered my windows and felt more like a shroud every day. Frustrated, I turned, but then a shadow moved across the path.

“Valen,” I called out again.

Relief leapt in my chest as the shadow I’d seen became Valen’s familiar form.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable from this distance. I closed the gap between us quickly and ignored the muddy water that splashed up around my ankles and stained the delicate silk of my shoes. I didn’t care if they were ruined. What right did I have to beautiful things?

Pointlessly beautiful.

And for whose benefit?

Lucian’s?

I didn’t want any of it.

Valen wasn’t wearing a coat either. The damp fabric of his shirt clung to him in places, hinting at the lean muscles I knew were hidden beneath. I could just see the swirl of the dark tattoos that covered his chest at the edge of his shirt’s neckline.

He looked at me with eyes like black ice—beautiful and dangerous—and the same spike of lust twisted through me again, hot and insistent.

“How did you know I was here?” he said when I was close enough to hear him.

“I saw you—” The words came out more breathless than I’d intended as I pointed up at my bedroom window.

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