Chapter 5: The Master's Mark
The air in the room didn't just turn cold; it died.
Xerxes stood in the doorway, his silhouette a towering wall of silent, vibrating fury. His eyes weren't gray anymore. They were the color of a storm-tossed sea, dark and lethal. He didn't look at me. He looked at Kylo, who was still kneeling between my legs like a loyal, broken hound.
"I told you to stay in your wing, Kylo," Xerxes said. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of a physical blow.
Kylo didn't move for a long second. He slowly lifted his head from my stomach, his wild eyes meeting Xerxes's frozen ones. A ghost of a smirk played on Kylo's lips—the kind of smile a man wears when he knows he's already dead.
"She has a song, Xerxes," Kylo whispered, standing up with a jagged, uneven grace. "You should listen to it. It's the only beautiful thing in this house."
"Out," Xerxes hissed. "Now. Before I forget you're my brother."
Kylo didn't argue. He walked past Xerxes, his shoulder brushing his brother's in a silent challenge. He didn't look back at me, but I felt the phantom heat of his forehead against my skin long after the door clicked shut.
Then, there was only Xerxes.
He didn't move. He stood by the door, his chest rising and falling in heavy, controlled breaths. He was a man who prided himself on logic, but right now, he looked like a predator that had found a stranger's scent on its kill.
"You've been here five hours, Vesper," he said, his voice dangerously smooth as he walked toward the bed. "And already, you have one of us kneeling at your feet. Is that your plan? To divide us before the ink on the contract is even dry?"
I stayed on the edge of the bed, my fingers surreptitiously sliding the black-handled dagger under the silk pillow. "He came in uninvited, Xerxes. Your brother is… unstable."
"My brother is a wolf," Xerxes growled, stopping inches from me. He reached out, his hand wrapping around my throat. He didn't squeeze, but the pressure was a promise. He forced my head back until I had no choice but to look at him. "And you? You're the bait. But don't forget who owns the trap."
He leaned down, his scent—sandalwood, expensive tobacco, and pure, raw power—overwhelming my senses. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but it wasn't fear. It was the thrill of the hunt.
"You're hurting me," I lied, my voice a soft, breathless whimper. I let a single tear track down my cheek. Goddy Francis leads always knew the power of a well-timed tear.
Xerxes's eyes darkened. His thumb brushed over the tear, his touch surprisingly soft for a man who looked like he wanted to burn the world down. "I haven't even begun to hurt you, Vesper. But I'm tempted. So tempted to see how much you can take before you stop pretending to be a victim."
He let go of my throat, but only to grab both of my wrists, pinning them above my head against the headboard. The silk of my robe bunched up, exposing my thighs, and I felt the cool air hit my skin before the heat of his body replaced it.
He pressed himself against me, his weight crushing me into the mattress. "Zion wants to play with you. Kylo wants to worship you. But me?"
He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine that I couldn't fake. "I want to break you. I want to find every secret you're hiding in that pretty, lying head of yours and rip it out."
"There are no secrets, Xerxes," I gasped, my chest heaving. "Just a woman who wants to survive a year in this hellhole."
"Liar," he breathed. He moved his mouth to my neck, his teeth grazing the pulse point that was jumping frantically. "You smell like a storm, Vesper. You smell like fire and blood. You don't want to survive. You want to win."
He moved lower, his kisses hot and demanding, marking the skin of my collarbone. I arched my back, my fingers digging into the silk of the sheets. For a second, I forgot about the burner phone. I forgot about the vault. I forgot about the dagger under the pillow.
The chemistry was a drug. It was a weapon he was using against me, and God help me, it was working.
"Look at me," he commanded.
I opened my eyes, meeting his burning gaze.
"You are a Blackwood now," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "That ring on your finger isn't a gift. It's a brand. And tonight, I'm going to make sure you remember which Blackwood holds the leash."
He reached for the tie of my robe, his eyes never leaving mine. But just as the silk began to give way, a sharp, rhythmic tapping echoed from the window.
Xerxes froze. He looked toward the glass, his jaw tightening.
A crow was perched on the ledge, its black eyes reflecting the moonlight. It began to scream—a harsh, guttural sound that tore through the 18+ tension like a knife.
Xerxes swore under his breath, pulling away from me and straightening his shirt. He looked back at me, his expression unreadable, the "Alpha" mask firmly back in place.
"Consider yourself saved by the omen, Vesper," he said, his voice cold again. "But the night is long. And I have the keys to every door in this wing."
He turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I lay on the bed for a long minute, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My body was humming with a frustrated, electric energy. I reached under the pillow and pulled out the dagger, the cold steel grounding me.
The crow on the ledge stopped screaming. It tapped once more against the glass and flew off into the night.
I sat up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I reached for my burner phone.
'Xerxes is obsessed,' I typed. 'He's distracted. Zion is drunk. Kylo is compromised. I'm moving to the basement vault in ten minutes. If I don't check in by dawn... burn the estate.'
I tucked the phone into my garter next to the dagger.
I wasn't a victim. I wasn't a prize.
I was the storm that was about to break the Blackwood line.
And as I slipped out of my room and into the shadows of the hallway, I realized the most dangerous thing about Xerxes Blackwood wasn't his power or his rage.
It was the fact that for a split second... I had wanted him to stay.