Page 33 of Iron Roses

The name lodges in my chest like a blade.

Cas.

Only one person ever called me that.

And only behind locked doors, with her body curled around mine like confession.

Giovanna never used it in daylight.

Never in public.

Never without her hands in my hair and her lips brushing against my jaw.

And now—

This girl.

Her sister.

Says it in her sleep, like it’s hers to use.

I sit there, frozen.

Her breath slows again. Her smile fades into rest.

But the name echoes. Over and over.

Chapter Eight – Elaria

The way the fabric clings to my legs—too fine, too cool. I blink into the filtered morning light spilling through thick drapes. My heart stutters.

This isn’t my room.

I sit up too fast. The room tilts, and I press my palms to the mattress to steady myself. The bed beneath me is enormous—dark wood frame, iron accents, edges sharp enough to cut. The headboard is carved with something intricate and unyielding.

My pulse skips.

Where am I?

Then the door opens.

Not the main one—the one tucked off to the right, half-hidden behind an armoire carved with ivy and ravens.

Steam curls out.

And then—

Cassian Rivetti appears.

He steps through, towel in hand, dragging it through his hair. His torso is bare—rivulets of water trailing down lean muscle, skin sun-warm and taut. He wears only a pair of dark pants, loose but tailored, the kind that scream obscene wealthin the way they drape over his hips, expensive without saying a word.

My mouth goes dry.

My gaze falls on the tattoo stretched across the back of his left hand—it makes my stomach twist.

And then his eyes.

They catch mine and hold. His eyes flick, once, to the door.

---