Page 13 of Bound to the Dreadlord

Her fingers tighten just slightly against the fabric of her dress.

A small thing. A human thing.

I should not notice.

Still, she does not reach for the food.

I lean back in my chair, stretching my fingers over the carved armrests. "I do not waste resources, Sera."

Her name tastes dangerous on my tongue.

She lifts her gaze to mine then—slow, deliberate, like she is testing something.

A foolish thing to do.

She parts her lips as if to speak but stops. Not in hesitation. No, this is calculated.

She is waiting. Waiting for me to react.

Clever.

I drag my knuckles against the table, watching her in turn, measuring the quiet refusal in the set of her jaw. "You do not defy me openly, yet you do not obey either."

A slow blink. She says nothing.

This silent dance of defiance should amuse me.

Instead, it makes something dark coil low in my stomach.

I inhale carefully, tilting my head, studying her as I would an adversary on the battlefield.

"You think starving yourself earns you power?" My voice is silk over steel, quiet but unyielding.

Still, she does not move.

Heat flickers low in my spine, curling too close to irritation.

Or something else.

I shift forward suddenly, pressing my elbows against the polished surface of the table. "Do you know what happens to those who reject what is given to them, little one?"

The title is deliberate. A mockery of her silence.

Her throat bobs in the smallest swallow, and her fingers tremble.

I see it. Ifeelit.

Control.

I exhale slowly, relishing the way the tension in the room tightens, the way the candlelight dances in the silverware but does not soften the sharp edges of the moment.

"Eat," I say again.

A test.

The seconds stretch.

She moves.

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