Page 20 of Bound to the Dreadlord

He thinks this is about possession. About power.

He is wrong.

It is about fear.

In this moment, as his breath trails along my skin, as his fingers tighten, as he demands something I can’t give, I realize something far worse than being owned.

He is obsessed.

I’m not sure if that is better or worse than death.

10

VEYLAN

Blood splatters against black marble.

A sharp, wet sound, followed by the dull weight of a body collapsing to the floor.

The grand hall hums with a different kind of silence now, one that is thick, charged, waiting. The gathered nobles—high-ranking dark elves draped in silks and adorned with steel—do not gasp, do not recoil. But their silver eyes are alight with something razor-sharp and dangerous.

Interest.

They have always enjoyed a show.

I exhale slowly, rolling the tension from my shoulders as I flick the blood from my blade, watching the way it splashes onto the pristine stone.

A waste.

The elf I just cut down was no one of importance. A distant cousin of some lesser house, another power-hungry leech who thought himself untouchable.

He is irrelevant.

And yet…

The rage still coils in my veins, simmering too close, too thick, too raw.

I should not have killed him.

But the moment his mouth had parted, the moment his voice had dared to utter the question?—

"The human girl… you keep her locked away, and yet none have heard her sing. Perhaps, if you are willing to share?—"

Something in me snapped. I remembered that she tried to escape from me. I’m still reeling from that.

The dark elf in front bore the brunt of my anger.

I had not thought. Had not hesitated.

One moment he had been standing, amusement curling his lips, his suggestion disgusting in its ease.

My blade had been in his throat in a heartbeat, his silver eyes blown wide with shock before he had gurgled, choked, and collapsed into a heap at my feet.

Now, he lies there, a crimson pool spilling beneath him, his fine silks drenched in the proof of his mistake.

The hall is silent.

Waiting.

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