I swallowed, the weight of that confession anchoring deep in my chest.
“That’s why you’ll have guards,” he continued, pulling me closer against his chest like he dared me to argue. “At night, Troy and Jericho. Both of them are Vampires, trained to fight and die if needed. They’ll keep you close, wherever you go. During the day…” His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Ivan. He’s a changeling. Do you know what that is?”
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “No.”
“Half-breed,” Lucien explained, his tone flat but respectful. “They are changed by a Vampire, with a deep scratch of our claws. He has the stamina of a human but some of our strength and senses. He can move in daylight without weakness, without shutting down. That is why he’ll guard you when I can’t.” His eyes, dark and sharp as blades, bored into mine. “But I’d rather you didn’t leave the estate at all during the day. I don’t want you out there when I’m not at my full strength. Not yet, not when you still don’t understand how many eyes are on you now.”
Something twisted in my chest at the way he said it. Not like a command, not exactly but a plea disguised in steel.
“So, you can be awake during the day,” I said quietly, “but you’re weaker.”
His jaw clenched, and he gave a single, curt nod. “Yes, I am slower, duller. And I don’t like dull. I like being able to tear a man apart if he looks at you wrong.” His hand slid up into my hair, tugging me close until his forehead rested against mine. “I need you to let me do this my way, Sorcha. I need you to trust me enough to keep you safe.”
I wanted to fight him again, wanted to tell him I didn’t need guards or his control, but the exhaustion weighed heavier than my pride. And the truth was, despite everything, his arms felt like the safest place I’d ever been.
So, I let him pull me fully against him, my head tucked beneath his chin, his scent wrapping around me like smoke and fire. His hand stroked slow circles on my back until my eyes fluttered closed, and before long, I felt the deep, steady rumble of his chest as his own breathing slowed.
Bound or not, Vampire or not, my body betrayed me again. It relaxed into his, and the fear gave way to something far more dangerous. Because as we drifted off together, one truth curled through my thoughts like a whisper I couldn’t silence.
I wanted him, and maybe… I wanted to believe him, too.
Chapter 7
The first thing I noticed when the sun set was that she was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with one of my shirts drowning her small frame. It should’ve pleased me, the sight of her in my clothes, but instead it made something primal in me coil tight with frustration. She had nothing here. Nothing of her own.
That was on me.
I moved to her side, brushing my fingers over the sharp line of her shoulder. “We can’t go tonight until I fix this.”
Her brows pulled together. “Fix what?”
“You don’t have a single thing in this house that belongs to you,” I said simply, already pulling my phone from my pocket. “And that won’t do.”
She blinked at me, her eyes hazy with disbelief, as though clothes were the last thing she cared about, as though survival alone should be enough. It twisted something in me, the way she looked down at the oversized shirt she wore like she wasn’t entitled to anything better. Like she expected nothing.
I didn’t give her the chance to argue. My phone was already at my ear, my voice sharp, clipped, the tone that made men move fast or risk blood. “I want deliveries within the hour. Dresses,coats, lingerie, shoes in every cut, every size until we find what fits. Jewellery. Makeup. Everything. Spare nothing.”
The servant on the other end stammered an affirmation. I hung up before they could breathe twice.
She stared at me, lips parting like she wanted to protest but didn’t know where to start. I didn’t let her. I stepped closer, crowding her, my hand brushing her jaw until her gaze snapped up to mine.
“You will not walk into my world wearing scraps that remind you of chains,” I said, low, each word carved with determination. “You will not look in the mirror and see a victim staring back. You are mine now, Sorcha. And mine does not look broken.”
Her breath hitched, a faint tremor in her hands before she curled them into fists, trying to reclaim some ground. “They’re just clothes,” she whispered.
“No,” I corrected, the edge of a growl in my chest. “They’re armour. And I’ll see you armoured in nothing less than the best. When people look at you, they’ll see strength. They’ll see what I see.”
The confusion in her eyes clashed with a flicker of something else, wariness, maybe even defiance, but under it all, a glimmer of something that looked a hell of a lot like hope. And I swore right then I’d drown out every memory of rags and manacles until the only thing she remembered was silk against her skin and my mark on her throat.
“Come,” I said, brushing my fingers lightly down her arm, guiding her to the dining room. Food had already been set. There were roasted meats, fresh fruit, bread still warm, pitchersof juice. A spread designed to tempt someone who hadn’t had the luxury of choice in far too long.
I watched her eat, slow at first, as though suspicious it might be taken away, but then hungrier, need clawing at control. My chest tightened at the sight. No one would ever starve her again. Not while I breathed.
By the time she pushed her plate away, deliveries had begun to arrive, there were cartons and garment bags carried in by staff who moved quickly, bowing their heads in my direction. Silks, satins, leather jackets, shoes in black and scarlet, delicate lace lingerie folded into boxes that gleamed with designer insignias. Accessories in velvet trays, gold, diamonds, pearls.
Her eyes went wide, disbelief written all over her face. I didn’t say anything. I simply leaned back in my chair, watching her fingers trail over fabric like she wasn’t sure if it was real.
“Try them,” I told her, and when she hesitated, I added, “All of them.”
