Page 75 of Bound to the Dreadlord

I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come. Instead, I turn my face away, unable to meet his gaze. Deep down, I know he’s right.

It makes me tremble deep down in its intensity.

28

SERA

Something feels different.

The sheets cling to my skin, cool where his heat once was. My body aches in places it shouldn’t. Muscles unused to such brutal, consuming touch. But it’s not just that. It’s the weight in the air. The shift.

I inhale, sharp and controlled, forcing the trembling in my limbs to still. The room is quiet, save for the distant crackle of embers in the hearth. But I feel him.

Veylan is watching me.

I don’t turn at first. I don’t want to see it. The satisfaction in his expression, the ownership.

But the silence stretches. Tightens.

I risk a glance.

He’s sitting in the high-backed chair near the hearth, shirtless, one elbow propped on the armrest, fingers resting against his temple. Watching. Studying.

Not smirking. Not victorious.

Something else. Something worse.

Possessive. Hungry.

My throat tightens. I brace myself for the next blow, the reminder that I am nothing more than a conquered thing. The cruelty I’ve come to expect.

Instead, he moves.

Not fast. Not harsh.

Just closer.

The mattress shifts under his weight as he sits at the corner of the bed. My pulse slams against my chest, but I force myself to meet his gaze, unwilling to flinch. His fingers lift, barely brushing my wrist, tracing along the skin like a hunter mapping the fragility of his prey. There’s nothing soft about it.

It is deliberate. Measured.

It infuriates me.

“You’re quiet,” I whisper, lips barely moving. The words are meant to provoke, to test. To see if I can rattle the cage he’s built around himself.

Veylan says nothing.

His grip tightens—not painful, not yet. Just a warning.

Heat pulses in my stomach, and I hate that my breath hitches at the touch of his fingers. Hate it.

I steel myself. “You got what you wanted.” My voice is thin, careful. “What now?”

He watches me for too long.

He stands, pulling away as if something about this moment unsettles him too.

My skin burns where he touched me.

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