D.Aeris의 작품

RENZO POVMy eyes widened in shock, the breath knocked clean out of my lungs at the scene in front of me.Bram.And some random guy.Fucking.The guy’s eyes went wide the moment he saw me standing in the doorway.“What the fuck, Bram? You said no one was coming in!” he shouted, clearly knowing him. But Bram didn’t stop. Not for me. Not for anything.He pulled out of the guy’s ass, stroking his thick cock with slow, deliberate movements, then slapped the guy’s ass hard. The moan that followed was filthy—like he was made for it. Then Bram slid a finger inside him again, deep, as he kept stroking himself, his cold eyes locked on mine.I swallowed hard, a dry lump caught in my throat. My feet were frozen in place.“Yes, Bram… fuck, Daddy. I’ve always loved your cock,” the guy moaned like he wasn’t just being watched. Like he wanted me to see.“What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” I shouted, finally finding my voice. “Bram, is this what I’m paying you for?!”The guy smirked over his shou

RENZO POVArms wrapped around me, stopping me mid-fall.One second I was falling, bracing for hardwood and humiliation. The next, my face slammed into something solid. Hard. Warm.A chest.A broad, unmoving chest.And then—God—my lips hit skin.Warm skin.My eyes flew open, breath caught in my throat. My mouth was pressed against his neck. Bram’s neck. I could feel the pulse beneath his skin, steady and indifferent, like mine wasn’t thundering like a damn war drum.I gasped and shoved myself back, heat crawling up my spine as I stumbled out of his grip.He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Just stared down at me like he’d caught a leaf falling out of the sky. Like it meant nothing.I cleared my throat, stepping away quickly. “I would’ve said thank you,” I said flatly, like my heart wasn’t still racing, “but you’re paid to protect me.”No reaction. Of course not.I turned and stormed outside, needing air, distance, anything but the static buzzing under my skin.The cars were already parked

RENZO POVIt’s another fucking day with me stuck with Brian with Bram.I’m so fucking bored I could scream. There’s nothing to do here except rot in front of the TV watching movies and play video games like a damn princess locked in a tower. I used to have clubs. Late nights. Good drugs. Great sex. I used to have people around me.Now? Nothing. No calls. No visits. Just me, Bram, and the walls closing in.The doctor left yesterday, which was the last bit of interaction I had with an actual human being who didn’t make me feel like I was one wrong move away from getting body-slammed. And no offense, but I was hoping she’d stay longer. At least she had great tits.Now the only thing keeping me sane is porn and my right hand. And even that’s losing its charm.I was sprawled on the couch, staring at the stupid screen like it might suddenly entertain me better if I glared hard enough, when Bram walked in and turned the TV off. No warning. Just walked in and—click.I sat up, scowling.“What

RENZO POVThe morning tastes like stale bitterness and quiet rage.Bram’s already awake, as always. I hear him in the kitchen—quiet movements, efficient. No wasted sound. Just the dull clink of a spoon in a mug and the low hum of the fridge closing.He’s always up before me. Always dressed, always armed, always silent. Like he doesn’t sleep. Like he’s some kind of automaton built to ruin my goddamn sanity one blank stare at a time.I roll to my feet and stretch, spine cracking.He doesn’t look at me when I walk into the kitchen shirtless and barefoot, the morning light catching on the faint scars across my ribs. Old things. Razor-thin memories of old betrayals.“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” I mutter.He sets a steaming mug down on the counter—his own—and sips. His eyes flick to me once, unreadable, before returning to whatever silent thought process is happening behind those eyes.Not a single word.“You’re really committing to this silent brute act, huh?” I say, leaning on the

RENZO POVThe silence was starting to feel personal.Three days. That’s how long it had been since I woke up in this stupid safehouse, suffocating hell of a mansion, with Bram Hale shadowing my every step like a grim reaper who’d traded his heart and mouth for a fit body..The man was a robot. Stoic. Controlled. Unshakable. He didn’t talk. Didn’t smile. Barely blinked. He just watched—always watched. Like he was studying me for weaknesses.Which, fine. Most people did. But with him, it wasn’t about gossip or gain.It felt like he was deciding whether I was worth saving at all.I leaned back against the red armchair in the corner of my room, legs spread, the tablet he used to “communicate” propped up on the nightstand like an unwanted therapist.The countryside stretched out in dark, quiet hills, scattered with a few distant lights. It was probably beautiful, but I couldn’t bring myself to careHe was seated by the door, as always, arms crossed like a statue molded out of quiet judgmen

BRAM POVI stared at the Don’s heir sprawled on the bed, barking orders like he still ran the world from a mattress.I didn’t respond. Just handed him the tablet and turned away.“The fuck is this?” he snapped, holding it up like it was foreign tech.Wild. Reckless. No sense of boundaries. If I didn’t owe Marc Moretti, I would’ve walked away the moment I saw this trainwreck in silk sheets. But I had a debt—and I needed access. The truth I was chasing sat somewhere in this house, and Renzo Moretti might unknowingly lead me to it.“You’ll regret this, Bram,” he spat.I didn’t blink. Just typed.Ping.He looked down at the screen.Me: I hate noise. Don’t provoke me. I’m not your parent.His eyes widened as he read. He swung his legs off the bed like he planned to charge at me—only to crumple halfway up.“Fuck,” he groaned, catching himself against the mattress.“Can’t you help me, you—what the hell?” he snapped, glaring like I was the reason gravity existed.Another message.Me: I’m your

Toran POV They had me in chains. Good. Let them believe they’d caught the villain. Let them think this was justice. They didn’t realize this was part of the plan. Darius’s dungeon was colder than I remembered. Damp stone, rusted iron, the faint scent of mold and forgotten blood. I’d sent men here myself. Criminals. Spies. Dissidents. Traitors. Now I sat in their place. The irony tasted sweet on my tongue. The guards had beaten me, hoping for answers. But they didn’t understand me. No one did. Not really. Not Darius. Not his precious little council. Certainly not Rian, the half-blood princess who stole his reason. They all thought I served the crown. But I didn’t. I served myself. From the moment I stepped into the court, I knew the truth — I was smarter than them. Sharper. Hungrier. Darius had been handed power like it was a birthright, and he wore it like a burden. He never had the stomach for rulership. He wanted to guide, to inspire. I wanted to rule. I wa

Rian’s POV Pain came first. A low throb at the base of my skull, blooming behind my eyes like a dark flower. My limbs felt heavy, cold, not my own. The air was damp, stale, laced with mildew and something metallic. Blood. I blinked slowly, the world tilting sideways. I was lying on stone. Chains rattled when I shifted, iron cuffs biting into my wrists and ankles. My throat felt raw, my mouth dry. I wasn’t alone. The torchlight was dim, flickering from the far end of the chamber. A long room—stone walls, no windows. A single iron door. And in the corner, a figure sat in shadow, watching. “Welcome back,” a voice said. Male. Smooth. Familiar in the worst way. I tried to sit up. The chains resisted. “Where… am I?” “Somewhere beneath the eastern cliffs,” the man replied. “An old prison. One the wolves forgot.” I squinted at him. Recognition bloomed slow and cruel. Lord Elion. “You,” I whispered. “You remember me.” He stood, stepping into the torchlight. His f

Darius POV She was late. Not by much—twenty minutes, maybe. But Rian wasn’t the kind of woman who lost track of time, especially not after the week we’d had. She’d promised to speak to Avery before moving her things into my wing. She was laughing when she left. Light in a way I hadn’t seen her in days. Now that laughter echoed in my mind like a knife being slowly drawn across stone. I waited another five minutes. Then I moved. The corridor outside my chambers was quiet. My guards straightened at my approach, offering small bows. “Have you seen Rian?” I asked. They exchanged glances. “She passed through heading toward Lady Avery’s quarters about half an hour ago.” “And after?” A beat of silence. Too long. “No, my king.” My throat went tight. I nodded, turned, and walked—fast. By the time I reached Avery’s wing, the anxiety had turned acidic in my stomach. Mira opened the door, hair damp from a bath, wrapped in a robe. “Where’s Rian?” I asked, voice sharper

The first thing I felt was cold. Not the kind that came from winter winds or stone floors—but the deep, invasive kind that seeped into your bones and stayed there. It wrapped around my spine, curled behind my ribs, and made each breath feel too shallow. The second thing I felt was pain. A dull, throbbing ache bloomed at the base of my skull. Each pulse sent a wave of nausea through my gut. When I tried to lift my hand to touch it, I couldn’t. Chains. Iron ones. Silver-tipped. Clamped around my wrists and ankles, fixed to the stone wall behind me. Panic struck hard and fast, nearly robbing me of breath. I yanked once—twice. The sound of metal scraping stone echoed in the darkness. Too strong. They knew what I was. The cell was dimly lit by a single torch mounted high above the door. Shadows twisted on damp, moss-lined stone. The air was thick with mildew and blood. Old blood. I could smell it. Could feel it in the cold bite of the floor beneath me. I wasn’t alone.

Rian’s POV It had been weeks. Mira had returned home to check on her clan. Avery had gone to the capital on court business. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until now—until I felt safe in their presence again. Then I told them everything. About the attack. About the emissary. About the dreams. And then—I told them the truth. What I was. What I had always been. “A hybrid,” I said quietly. “Half-witch. Half-wolf. My mother hid it. My father never knew. But it’s why I survived the fire. It’s why I keep seeing things before they happen.” Neither of them said a word at first. Mira only blinked. “That explains a lot,” she said, then picked up her tea and took a sip like I’d told her I preferred black over sweetened. Avery tilted her head, brows raised. “You thought we’d hate you for that?” “I’ve been hated for less,” I said, the words sharp around the edge. “Darius could’ve rejected me. Banished me. But he didn’t.” “No,” Avery said softly, “he wouldn’t.” They

Rian’s POV His mouth was fire. Not the kind that scorched—but the kind that claimed. Branded. Like he wanted to kiss the truth out of me and replace it with something new. Something ours. And for one reckless heartbeat, I let him. I let myself melt into his warmth, forget the ticking clock of secrets buried too deep, forget the way my blood had once curled into spirals of ash at the mere thought of touch. His hands were strong, calloused, and careful. One curved around my jaw. The other slid to my waist like he was anchoring me—afraid I’d vanish. Maybe I would’ve. Maybe I should’ve. But then I tasted blood. Not his. Mine. A sharp sting where my lip had split. I didn’t even realize it had happened until the copper tang bloomed on my tongue. And with it came the memory. Of a whip. Of symbols carved into skin. Of a voice chanting my name like a curse. Witch. I tore away like I’d been struck. “Rian—” “No.” My voice came out hoarse. “You don’t understand what you’re