Page 31 of Blood Bond

The soup is hot, the bread warm. I hesitantly pull off a small piece of bread and dunk it in, my actions unnoticed by the others.

This feels like a calm before the storm.

ChapterTwenty-Three

By the time Donovan returns to the Summers' residence, his temper has escalated to perilous heights. But there is nothing at hand to vent his fury on, nothing to soothe his raging storm.

He storms through the house, his movements forceful and uncontrolled, slamming doors with such intensity that they rebound off the walls. Any sensible resident in the house will wisely stay out of his path.

He strides purposefully to the room housing the grimoire, the book that might hold the answers he seeks. Stopping just short of hurling the ancient book across the room, he flips it open, his movements rough and impatient. "Give me your answers," he demands, slamming his fist down onto the book in frustration, as though the force of his blow could compel the grimoire to relinquish its secrets.

Clutching the sides of the lectern, he bows his head, his fangs emerging in a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. He lets out a primal scream, allowing the sound to rip from the depths of his being, echoing his inner chaos and desperation.

"Seth ..." His brother’s name escapes Donovan in a guttural growl, laced with bitterness. Seth, who always takes, who always claims everything Donovan believes should rightfully be his.

Taking a deep breath, Donovan closes his eyes, attempting to quell the storm of fury within him. Yet, paradoxically, he feeds the anger, conjuring memories from a distant past when they were both human, when she belonged to him. These recollections, tinged with nostalgia and pain, only serve to fuel the fire of his resentment.

Donovan's jaw clenches tightly,a muscle twitching in his jaw as he observes the scene below. Katherine's laughter, light and joyous, is carried up to his window by a gust of wind, taunting him. He sees in Seth's eyes a passion he recognises all too well—the same fervour that once ignited within him at the sight of her.

The pain envelops his heart as he watches the scene unfold, feeling like a nightmare. Katherine's golden hair cascades down her back, bouncing with each giggle that slips past her parted lips. Her ivory dress contrasts starkly against the monochrome green of the garden, making her an unmissable presence.

In his hand, he holds the blade Katherine gifted him, a symbol of their promise when they had agreed to unite. A political alliance, yet they vowed she would be his in all ways. Now, he grips the blade tightly, allowing its edge to press into his palm, the sharpness biting into his skin. Blood begins to seep down, a stark reminder of the pain he feels inside.

Donovan's gaze, once tender and soft when directed at her, now hardens. A veil of brooding anger descends over his striking blue eyes, and he inhales sharply, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, echoing the torment consuming him. The anger spreads through him like wildfire, obliterating his rationality and magnifying his sense of betrayal.

Is there anything his brother won’t take from him? Seth had already claimed their father’s love, undeserved though it was, and now her ...

Donovan's vision blurs at the edges as he sees Seth's hand lingering on Katherine’s waist, and he grits his teeth in suppressed fury.

She returns to her room later, clutching a book he had given her.

Donovan, sitting unseen on the stairs between their rooms, watches her intently. Her smile, the one she wears unknowingly, tells him all he needs to know about who occupies her thoughts. Her every move and laugh betrays her feelings.

Beside Donovan lies a small, folded blue gown, tied neatly with a ribbon. He glares at it, as though it's the source of his frustration.

His father's gathering later ... If not for that, he might have given the gown to someone else. Perhaps he would choose a different companion. Perhaps later, when everyone is distracted, he might slip away to find a common woman who would see only him, not Seth.

Grinding his teeth in irritation, he grabs the gown and descends the steps. He pauses momentarily outside her door before knocking.

"Come in," her soft voice invites.

Upon entering, he is met with her smile, a facade of innocence and surprise in his eyes as she peeks at him through the mirror of her vanity table. "I thought you were in town with your father," she remarks, pulling a brush through her hair.

"I was, but we returned earlier than expected," Donovan replies, his voice measured.

Katherine turns to face him,her hair cascading gracefully as she sets the brush aside, her smile still warm. "Did you manage to take care of all your business?"

He nods, his response nonverbal, his thoughts elsewhere.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, sensing the tension in his demeanour.

A twitch of his lip betrays his inner turmoil. Clutching the gown in his hand, he struggles to maintain composure, his breathing slightly laboured. He keeps his emotions in check, aware that any outburst would jeopardise his father's plans. This alliance, this obligation, is the sole reason he restrains himself, the only thing preventing him from dismissing her outright.

His father's needs come first. This union must proceed flawlessly, as Katherine's betrothal to the family's illegitimate son would be unthinkable. At least in this, Donovan finds a cold comfort.

"I've brought you a gown for this evening. My mother assures me it's quite fashionable," he says, his tone devoid of warmth. Instead of presenting it to her, he places it at the end of her bed, his gaze lingering on the fabric. A part of him yearns to retract the gesture, to take back the gift and deny her this small kindness.

She approaches him as she always does when he presents her with gifts, but this time, Donovan feels an urge to recoil, to create a distance between them. Despite this, he remains rigid. "Thank you," she says softly.

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