Bound To The Devil's Heir

Serena point of View: I laugh. it's the wrong reaction - I know that. But it escapes before I can stop it, dry and bitter and sharp enough to slice through the silence between us. "Financee?" I echo. " That's your game? You spend a quarter million on a hostage and call it romance?" he doesn't blink. Doesn't Flinch. Doesn't smile. "I didn't buy you for romance." "The what the hell-" "I bought you because I need you" He says it so plainly.. Like it's a transaction. like I'm a handbag, or a forged signature, or a weapon. I take a step back, toward the door. my breath is shallow now. I feel the cold of the marble floor through the thin slip dress they forced on me. "I don't know who you think I am," I say slowly, "But you've made a mistake." He follows. Leisurely. like a predator who knows the prey can't escape. "oh, I know exactly who you are, " he says. "Serena vale. Art student. NYU. Raised in Maine. changed your last name five years ago after your father was caught in

Damien's point of View There's a difference between keeping wolves at bay and inviting them to dinner.Tonight, I'm doing the latter.The Alaric estate gleams under a blood- orange sunset, the kind Emilia says reminds her of the battlefield after the storm. she's always been poetic like that. sensitive in a way no one else in this family dares to be.She outed me this morning. I should've seen it coming. Emilia had always been impulsive, but this time, her excitement got the best of her. she told out family I was engaged before I even had the chance to prepare Serena before I had the chance to decide if this game was worth playing.but the moment she said it, I made a choice.I told them it was true.and now, Serena and I have to play the part for one dinner, at least before the snakes start to coil and the vultures start to circle.I adjust my cufflinks in the mirror - onyx and platinum, my father's old pair. A relic of a man who taught me that family is nothing without power and po

Serena Vale point of View; The diamond on my finger weighed more than it should have.it was too tight, too cold. A constant reminder of the performance I couldn't escape.The applause from the night before still echoed in my head, hollow and mocking. I hadn't slept. Not really. I'd stared at the ceiling most of the night, trying to quiet the thoughts that clawed at me.The proposal had been perfect on the surface. Flashing lights, champagne toasts, murmurs of "Finally" and "Damien's changed." But underneath it all, I felt like I was standing in Quicksand, smiling while I sank.And Damien.He hasn't said another word to me after the photos. He slipped away into the shadows like he always did, leaving me alone in a sea of people pretending to care.Now, the sun was up, the staff was buzzing and the estate felt different.Colder.Like something important had shifted and everyone could feel it.I was still in bed when the knock came.Three soft raps.I didn't answer, but the door creake

Damien point of View "Control is a luxury I no longer own.""You dragged me into your world. Dressed me up. put a ring on my finger. But don't confuse obedience with surrender."Her words echoed down the hallway long after she disappeared around the corner.Damien stood rooted on the marble landing, fits clenched at his sides, jaw tight.she had no right to speak to him like that. No right to Walk away like that.But fuck...He couldn't move.couldn't breathe.Because the worst part? she was right."Don't confuse obedience with surrender."Every word was a blade clean, sharp, and lodged deep inside him."Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.it wasn't supposed to like this.This arrangement, this game it was supposed to be his. controlled. predictable. He made the rules. He dictated the moves. He protected the throne and the bloodline.And Serena Vale was supposed to be a pawn.just a pretty, pliable mask to soothe the vultures.so why the hell did she have this effect

Serena's point of View He kissed like a promise and I was terrified of what he'd keep. The suite was too quiet. That eerie kind of silence that makes your skin buzz where every breath feels like a sin and every second stretches too long. The wedding was over. The guest gone. The laughter faded. The music replaced with the soft ticking of a gold- trimmed clock on the mantel. And Damien stood across the room, his jacket discarded, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the shadows catching along the Sharp lines of his jaw. I hated how good he looked. I hated that I noticed. "This is the part where you carry me across the threshold," I said dryly, shrugging off my heels. He didn't smile. just looked at me with that unreadable gaze, the kind that made me feel stripped bare. "I don't think either of us wants to Pretend anymore." My pulse jumped. I crossed to the mirror and started tugging pins from my hair, trying to act like the room wasn't thick with something I coul