Page 20 of Blood Heir

Serevin grabs my face. His hands are firm, but his touch isn’t gentle. He pulls my face toward his, forcing me to meet his eyes. His gaze is intense, too intense for me to look away from.

“You belong to me,” he says, his voice low, almost like a warning. “Do you understand?”

I can feel the rage building in me. It’s a slow burn, but it rises in my chest like a wildfire.

I laugh, and the sound is full of mockery. I spit on his face, the saliva landing on his cheek with a sickening splat.

“Fuck you.” The words taste bitter, harsh in my mouth.

Serevin wipes his face slowly, his fingers brushing the spit off. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Instead, he looks at the guards and speaks, his voice steady, commanding.

“Take her to my room,” he says coldly. “Lock her up.”

The words hit me like a slap, and I scream, the terror clawing at my throat. “What? You evil jerk! This is illegal! Someone help me! Handsome, oh, come on, not you too—someone help!”

But there’s no one. No one to listen.

The guards drag me away, and I thrash, kicking and yelling. But it doesn’t matter.

Chapter 6 - Severin

Cassian follows me, trailing behind like a shadow. His presence is irritating, but I don’t have the patience to tell him to leave.

I clutch the ring in my hand, the cold metal digging into my palm as I walk, my knuckles turning white. The ring she threw away. The action still lingers in my mind. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Every time I think of it, I feel a sickening twist in my gut.

“Come on, locking her up is too much,” Cassian says, his voice light, almost mocking.

I don’t answer right away. I push the door to my office open with a hard shove, the wood creaking against the force. Stepping inside, I feel the weight of the room close in. It’s supposed to feel safe here, but it doesn’t. Not with everything hanging over me. Not with her.

“You want to be locked up, too?” I snap as I turn to face him.

Cassian steps inside, his expression relaxed. He’s never serious when I need him to be. He glances at me, unbothered.

“No, no, I don’t,” he replies. “I just think you need to handle this a bit more…level-headed.”

I roll my eyes, feeling irritated beyond reason. “She spat on me!” I practically hiss, my teeth grinding together.

Cassian bites back a chuckle but turns serious, the edges of his lips curling into a wry smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s bad.”

I feel my jaw tighten at the sound of his voice. The lightness in his tone only makes me angrier.

Without thinking, I reach for a cigar, the familiar smoothness of the tube a small comfort in the chaos of my mind. But before I can light it, Cassian snatches it out of my hand, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“You’ll turn your lungs into popcorn at this rate,” he says, his voice mockingly concerned.

“Fuck!” I mutter, the word escaping me like it’s the only thing that can cut through the frustration inside.

I try to grab it back, but Cassian holds the cigar out of reach, shaking his head with a knowing grin. His face says it all. He’s enjoying this.

“Why are you this mad?” he asks, his tone casual, like we’re discussing the weather instead of the fact that I’m on the verge of losing control.

“What?” I growl, barely holding myself together. The tension in my chest is unbearable.

He shrugs, as if I’ve asked a silly question. “You can’t blame her. We know she isn’t herself.” He lights his own cigar, the smoke curling around his fingers. “But why are you really angry?”

I take a sharp breath, my eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” My voice is low, dangerous.

Cassian leans back in the chair, his gaze thoughtful, studying me. “I think you’re mad that the Fioretta who pined for you is gone.” He pauses, taking a long drag from his cigar before looking at me again. “The Fioretta we have now doesn’t even see you. She called me handsome.”

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