Page 10 of Blood Heir

I look down at the glass in my hand. “Not yet. Maybe this is a good thing.”

“And if she remembers?”

I set the glass down. “Then I’m fucked.”

Cassian exhales, nods like that’s the most honest thing I’ve said in weeks. “Well. Good for you. And the Jezebel—is she still trying to crawl into your bed?”

“I’ll handle her. Keep the news quiet. Only Stefano’s cleared to know. Make sure Emilia’s not babbling.”

“Understood, Capo.” He turns to go, then pauses at the door. “What about you?” he asks. “How do you feel?”

I flash to the moment on the stone path—her skin against mine, her breath brushing my lips, her panic bleeding into my own.

I shrug. “I’ll live.”

Cassian smirks. “We’ll see.”

He salutes with two fingers and disappears into the hall.

The door clicks shut behind him.

I reach for the cigarette case on the corner of my desk. It’s matte black, no emblem. I flick it open, press one between my lips, and strike the match by hand—old habit. The hiss and flare break the silence.

Smoke curls upward, thin and pale against the firelight.

I walk to the window.

Outside, the courtyard glistens with the remnants of rain. Beyond it, the walls of the west wing. Her wing now. Her light is on.

I get lost in memories, our wedding night.

The room smelled of rosewater and linen.

She sat on the edge of the bed in silence. Not curled up. Not seductive. Just…waiting.

The nightgown they gave her was ivory, sleeveless. High collar, delicate lace at the hem. Her hair was pulled back but coming loose, strands already curling around her temples from the humidity.

She looked too small on that bed. I stood in the doorway for a long time, watching her.

She didn’t meet my eyes. I walked to her, slowly. The air in the room thickened with every step. She didn’t move.

When I stopped in front of her, I said it plainly. No warning. No apology. “Don’t expect me to love you.”

She flinched.

And then—a tear slipped from her chin. Not her eyes. Her chin.

Like she’d been holding it back too long to stop it now.

She sniffed, blinking hard, still not looking at me. “I won’t ask for it,” she whispered. “I won’t ask for anything.”

Something about that broke something in me. I didn’t know what.

I reached down and placed my hand under her chin. Tilted her face to mine.

Her eyes were glassy, but wide open. She didn’t close them when I leaned in.

I kissed her.

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