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Chapter 139- The Hunger that wasn't mine
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2025-12-08 21:37:42
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BLOOD FOR A BRIDE CHAPTER 143 — “THE PROPHECY OF THE RED CHILD”
-Asaraiah Kaine- I didn’t sleep. The mansion did. But I didn’t. I walked the halls slowly, letting my fingers trail over cool stone, my breath steady despite the storm right under my skin. It felt like something was brushing the inside of my ribs— a shift, a pulse, a drumbeat that didn’t belong to this house, or Malrik, or the version of myself I had lived with for seventeen helpless years. There was a name for what was happening to me, but no one wanted to say it aloud. Not even Eryss. Not even Drayan. Especially not Malrik. So the silence thickened. The kind that folds around your ankles like smoke and climbs higher until it presses against your throat. The kind that only breaks when something else tears first. Tonight, it was the garden gates. A guard sprinted down the hall. “Lady Kaine—there’s a visitor. For you.” “For Malrik?” “For you.” That alone was enough to pull something sharp through my chest. I followed him down sweeping stairs, past portraits older t
BLOOD FOR A BRIDE Chapter 142 - THE COUNCIL THAT DRAWS BLOOD
-Asaraiah Kaine- If last night carved open something between us,this morning sharpened it.I didn’t wear anything delicate or soft.Not after the bite.Not after the vow neither of us admitted out loud.I walked into the east-wing council floor wearing fitted black trousers, a tucked silk blouse, sleeves rolled, my hair pulled back in a way that showed the fading mark on my neck.Let them see it.Let them whisper.Let them understand exactly what happened in the dark while they plotted in the light.The Kaine Council chamber wasn’t a room meant for comfort.Everything in it was designed to intimidate—glass table, steel walls, monitors humming like they were judging you, the city sprawling behind bulletproof windows.Malrik was already there.He was leaned back in the head chair—the one no one else had ever dared touch—legs stretched out, shirt half-unbuttoned, jacket thrown somewhere behind him, hair still messy in a way that made my stomach tighten because I knew exactly why.His e
BLOOD FOR A BRIDE Chapter 141- Drowning
-ASARAIAHI woke before he did.That never happened.Malrik slept like someone who didn’t trust the world enough to let his guard slip—not for a second, not for a breath. Even when he pretended to sleep, one hand always twitched toward a weapon. His breathing always stayed shallow. His body always carried the tension of a man who’d survived too long to believe in rest.But today?His arm was heavy around my waist.His chest rose in slow, steady waves against my back.His mouth brushed my shoulder with every exhale—warm, human, vulnerable.Like something inside him had finally stopped fighting.I lay still, listening to the strange quiet of his heartbeat.Not the monster’s pulse—cold, empty, barely there.A real one.Strong.Steady.Awakened.My throat ached faintly where he’d bitten me. The skin was tender, warm beneath my fingers, but not painful. More like the echo of something that had changed the air around it.When I brushed it lightly, he stirred behind me with a small, involunt
BLOOD FOR A BRIDE Chapter 140 - The Curse breaks its first thread(ii)
Asaraiah Kaine —The moment I told him to take it, the air changed.Not metaphorically.Literally.The lights flickered.The temperature dropped.Something ancient, something older than language, coiled through the room like a living shadow.Malrik pressed harder against me—not crushing, not careless, but with the full intention of someone who’d been starving for a century and just realized the hunger had a name.And that name was mine.My breath caught as his mouth brushed my throat again. Not a kiss this time. A claim waiting to happen.His voice was raw, barely human.“Asaraiah… once I start, I don’t know if I’ll stop.”“You will,” I whispered.“No. I won’t.”“Then I’ll pull you back.”That stopped him.His forehead dropped to my shoulder, like he needed a second to cling to whatever thread of restraint he still had.“You don’t understand what you’re offering.”“I do.”“You think this is about a bite?” His hand tightened on my waist. “It’s not. It’s a bond. A vow. A promise older t
BLOOD FOR A BRIDE Chapter 139- The Hunger that wasn't mine
The night after the docks attack didn’t feel like a night at all. It felt like a warning stitched into the dark. The Kaine mansion hummed with tension—guards doubling their patrols, windows locked even though we were twelve floors up, Gaya carrying weapons the staff had never seen her touch. Drayan prowled the hallways like he expected something ancient to crawl out of the walls. And me? I couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand, couldn’t think straight. Every nerve felt tuned too tightly, stretched between two frequencies—my heartbeat and a second rhythm pulsing under it like a shadow heartbeat. Zenaida’s echo. She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t whispering. She wasn’t showing me visions. But she was awake. Alive inside me in a way she hadn’t been before. I tried to distract myself by rewrapping my knuckles, but even the brush of cloth on skin felt too loud. Too much. Too close. A knock sounded. Just one. Hard enough that my pulse spiked. Soft enough that I kne
BLOOD FOR A BRIDE Chapter 138 - The red eyed heir
-Asaraiah Kaine- Calla finally fell back asleep just before dawn, exhaustion dragging her under like an anchor tossed into deep water. I stayed by her bed until her breathing evened out, until the tremors stopped shaking her fingers, until her lashes stilled against her cheek. Then I slipped out quietly. The hallway was empty, washed in that pale grey light that always made everything look half-dead. My footsteps echoed in the silence—slow, deliberate, echoing through marble that suddenly felt too fragile under me. As if the mansion knew something was changing. As if I was the thing it needed to brace itself for. I stopped in front of the long mirror at the end of the corridor again. I shouldn’t have looked. But I did. My reflection blinked back. Not haunting. Not ghostly. Not wrong. Just… different. The red ring in my irises had deepened overnight—ruby sharpened into garnet, thin as the edge of a knife. I leaned in, palms pressed against the cool glass. “Who am I becom
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