Chapter Five

Down in the dark, Rosen flinched when the heavy iron door creaked open.

He had no idea how many days he had been trapped in the damp cellar. Time had blurred into darkness, hunger, and cold.

Two guards in sharp black suits entered.

Rosen immediately scrambled backward, but the chains around his wrists dragged loudly across the stone.

Was the funeral over?

His heart pounded.

Were they here to take him out and kill him?

The guards seized his bruised arms and dragged him from the cell. Rosen stumbled up the stairs before they threw him onto the hard floor of a dimly lit study.

He hit the carpet with a gasp.

Then he looked up.

Killian Veyr stood over him.

Dark. Massive. Unmoving.

Those slitted golden eyes made Rosen’s blood run cold.

“I just spoke to your father,” Killian said, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he lit it. He crouched until they were eye level.

“Turns out you’re completely useless to the Solis family.”

Rosen’s chest rose and fell rapidly.

“I’m my own person,” he whispered. “Just let me go.”

Deep down, he hadn’t expected anything else.

If not for the strange myth surrounding his birth, his father probably would have erased him from the family years ago.

His brother, Conan, was everything a Solis son was supposed to be.

Rosen was the mistake.

The shame.

“You see, the problem is…” Killian inhaled slowly, then blew the smoke straight into Rosen’s face. “I don’t take no for an answer.”

Rosen coughed, turning his face away.

“If your family won’t come for you willingly…”

Killian smiled.

“…then we’ll give them a reason they can’t ignore.”

He snapped his fingers.

Three female servants emerged from the shadows.

Rosen froze.

“Take good care of him,” Killian ordered. “He’ll be tonight’s entertainment during my engagement party.”

The women moved toward him.

Panic exploded through Rosen’s chest.

He fought against the chains, scrambling backward as the iron bit painfully into his wrists.

“No!”

His voice cracked.

“Don’t touch me!”

He shook his head desperately.

“Even if you hurt me, my father won’t care! He won’t come for me—even if you humiliate me, it changes nothing!”

The words escaped him like a confession.

And somehow, saying them aloud hurt more than the chains ever could.

In a blur of movement, Killian lunged.

His clawed hand locked around Rosen’s chin and slammed his head back against the floor.

Rosen’s face went white.

Before he could scream, cold steel pressed against his throat.

“Tell me, bird…” Killian whispered, his breath hot against Rosen’s cheek. “Would your father not care if I carved you open right here and send him back your skin?”

The hunting knife moved slowly down his throat, leaving a thin red scratch before stopping over his heart.

Rosen trembled violently.

Tears spilled from his blue eyes, running over his bruised cheeks.

“Don’t…” His voice broke. “Please… don’t hurt me.”

Killian stared at him.

He hated begging.

He hated weakness.

Yet something about Rosen’s fear unsettled him in a way he couldn’t explain. His chest tightened, and for one disturbing second, he felt a vicious pull toward the frightened creature beneath him.

What the fuck?

Killian’s grip tightened.

He shouldn’t be feeling anything for a Crow.

Especially not this one.

Then Rosen looked up at him, eyes glassy with terror, and something dangerously close to pity stirred in Killian’s chest.

Killian recoiled from the feeling as if it were poison.

Pity?

For a Solis?

For the family that had taken his brother from him?

His expression hardened instantly as he stared at Rosen’s pathetic face. Those damn tears didn’t just evoke that disbelieving pity. 

The helplessness radiating from the crow made his groin tightened. A throbbing heat surged into his pants with shocking speed, pulsing in rhythm with the boy's hitching sobs.

What the actual fuck.

His mind reeled in sheer, furious disbelief. 

This was absurd. Revolting. 

Yet the throbbing didn't stop. It grew worse, feeding on his own disgust. Every broken sound from that soft mouth sent another pulse of dark heat straight to Killian's groin. His blood sang, gathering in his cock with a heaviness that bordered on pain.

It felt like hunger. The wrong kind—the kind that didn't just want to feed, but to devour.

Killian's golden eyes snapped to the glowing runic chains binding Rosen's wrists. The enchanted iron was forged specifically to suppress Crow sorcery.

Were those damn spell-chains defective?

They had to be. The chains were supposed to strip every ounce of power from the boy—render him harmless and neutered, it must have missed whatever sickening aura the little bastard breathed out.

Draven had warned him about them being seductive creatures. How dare this boy try to bewitch him! The thought made his wrath burn hotter.

Killian pressed the blade closer, forcing the strange thrill back into the dark where it belonged.

"N-no..." Rosen gasped as the cold steel slid lower, past his ribs, leaving a thin white trail down his stomach before stopping right over his groin.

Killian pressed the tip just hard enough for Rosen to feel the sharp point through his clothes. Then he traced a slow, tight circle. Almost tender.

Rosen froze. His breath stuck in his throat.

"You feel that?" Killian’s smile was twisted. "One twitch. That's all it takes. One twitch and you'll never function as a man again." He tilted the knife, pressing the flat of the cold steel hard against Rosen's cock. "I could slice it off clean. You wouldn't even feel it for the first second. Then you'd feel it for the rest of your miserable life."

“N-no,” A choked whine slipped from Rosen's throat. His thighs shook violently. Every instinct screamed to curl up, but he was too afraid to move an inch.

Killian watched him shake, a crazed gleam in his eyes. 

“Instead of sending your head, sending this to your father will be a better souvenir, won't it?”

“NO!” Rosen choked out as Killian flipped the knife, hooking the tip into the waistband of Rosen's pants. 

"Please—" Rosen's voice was shredded to a broken sob. "Please, no! Don't cut me—please—"

"Or maybe," Killian added maliciously, "that wouldn't even matter to him or to you if you’re dickless."

Killian tapped the steel against Rosen's cock. Twice. Light, casual, almost playful.

"I heard a fascinating rumor today, bird. They say the Black Rose has a special constitution." Tap. Tap. "They say he can be bred. Mounted and filled like a broodmare. That there's a nice, wet little place inside you just waiting for seed."

Rosen's breath hitched in sheer horror. Only the high rank crows knew that secret. 

Seeing the pure fright on the boy's face, a low laugh rumbled in Killian's chest.

"Don't tell me...It's actually true?"

He stared at Rosen with an almost fascinated look. 

Rosen tried to wrench himself away, panic clawing through his chest.

“Don’t worry,” Killian said coldly. “I won’t stoop so low as to soil myself with the likes of you.”

He straightened and folded the knife back into his pocket.

“Tonight, my men will find out for themselves just how special you really are. Take care of him.”

He turned and disappeared through the doors.

The moment he was gone, Rosen collapsed against the floor, struggling to catch his breath.

Then the maids approached, three of them. 

Their expressions were filled with hate and anger. 

The first woman grabbed Rosen by the hair and violently yanked his head back.

“Aren’t you the little bastard who killed our queen?” she hissed, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Rosen winced in pain.

The second maid crouched beside him with a cruel smile.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. We aren’t here to serve you.”

She grabbed his chained wrist and jerked it hard enough to make the iron bite into his skin.

“You’re a prisoner. Nothing more.”

“Let’s just obey Lord Killian’s order,” the third maid interrupted quietly.

She was younger than the others, with chestnut-brown hair and a softer expression. She stepped between them, her voice gentle.

“He told us to take care of him.”

The first maid scoffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for a Crow.”

The younger woman lowered her eyes.

“I’m just saying we should do what we were ordered to do.”

Outside, Killian strode down the hall, his jaw clenched tight, irritated by his body’s stubborn betrayal. The reaction still hadn’t faded.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

He could still remember Rosen’s trembling voice, the tears in those blue eyes, the helpless fear in his captivity’s  

His cock throbbed against his trousers like a second heartbeat.

Killian cursed under his breath.

That damned male witch.