Page 18 of Bound to the Dreadlord

And I don’t fucking care.

My hand moves before I can stop it, shoving down the front of my trousers. My cock is already leaking, heavy in my palm. The moment I grip it, I hiss between my teeth—gods, she hasno ideawhat she’s doing to me.

I pump once, slowly, my mind replaying that moment—the way her throat bobbed as she held back her defiance. The way her lips parted when I said her name. That breath, thatsoundthat changed the air.

My hips jerk forward instinctively, chasing the imagined weight of her mouth, her body, her song.

“Fuck,” I growl, voice breaking in the empty chamber.

I stroke harder now, fingers slick around the head, imagining it’s her hand, her warmth, her breath teasing just above me.

I think of her singing while beneath me. Think of her whispering my name with that voice that bends the world.

And I break.

My release tears through me like lightning, hot and savage, spilling over my fingers as I brace against the stone. I groan low, unable to contain the sound, and somewhere deep inside me I feel it?—

A spark. A tether. A thread between us that is getting tighter. Closer.

Too close.

I lean against the rack, panting.

She is dangerous.

And she’s already taking a hold on me.

9

SERA

The stone beneath my bare feet is cold, biting into my skin as I move—silent, careful, a shadow slipping between pillars.

The courtyard stretches ahead, framed by towering black spires, the pale glow of the twin moons spilling silver across the archways. Beyond the gates lies the unknown—something wider, something freer than this gilded cage Veylan has locked me inside.

I am so close.

The guards stationed at the entrance shift lazily, their weapons resting against their shoulders, their eyes heavy with disinterest. Dark elves do not expect humans to run. Not when there is nowhere to go. Not when they believe we are too afraid to try.

They are wrong.

My heart slams against my rib cage as I move into the cover of the hedge wall, my pulse hammering with every second I steal from this night. My throat is tight, my breath shallow, but I cannot afford hesitation.

I have one chance.

I press a trembling hand to my chest, feeling the vibration deep inside—the dangerous hum of something I don’t quite understand.

Then, I sing.

Not a song, not a melody, not something beautiful meant to be heard.

This is a whisper of power, a thing curling from my lips and slipping through the dark, threading its way between the guards like a lover’s caress.

It takes less than a breath.

The nearest guard stiffens, his silver eyes going glassy. The other follows, their bodies tensing before they sway.

A flicker of confusion crosses their features, and then their weapons slip from their hands, clattering to the ground with a sound far too loud in the silence.

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