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Chapter Fourteen – A Bloody Key
Last Updated:
2025-10-14 04:15:32
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SIGHTLESS OBSESSION Chapter twenty – The Tether and the Thorn
Seraphina Vellaro – POV Gloria’s arms around me were the first real anchor I’d had since my mother died. The scent of her—lavender and the faint, unmistakable smell of the old rosewater she always used—was a tidal wave of memory and safety. I clung to her, my fingers gripping the coarse wool of her cardigan, sobbing in great, heaving breaths that felt like they were tearing something rotten from my chest. “He told me you were dead,” I whispered again, the words muffled against her shoulder. “He lies, my falcon. He always has.” Her voice was a fierce, quiet rasp. Her hands, gnarled and strong, rubbed circles on my back. “I would have died before I abandoned you. I only left to save you.” “I know.” And I did. The journal, the escape, her desperate journey to the Morettis—it was all a testament to her love. “Are you hurt? Has he… has Lucian treated you well?” “Well enough,” she said, her tone careful. She pulled back slightly, her hands coming up to cup my face. Her thumbs gently wi
SIGHTLESS OBSESSION Chapter Nineteen – The Lily's Scent
Lucian Moretti – POV The scent of her was in my study long after she had gone. Not jasmine and vanilla, but the sharp, clean odor of the clay, and something else underneath—the electric tang of a mind working, of defiance simmering just beneath a placid surface. She was changing the very atmosphere of my sanctum. I stared at the clay map, her map. The lines were sure, the symbols clear. A blind girl had built a world from a memory of touch. And her deduction about the lily, the Alps… it was brilliant. It felt true. This was the problem. She was no longer just a fascinating object, a locked box to be prized open. She was a force. A strategic, intelligent force whose will was beginning to press against my own. The way she had said my name—“You’ll have your location, Lucian.”—it wasn’t submission. It was a negotiation. A declaration of value. I had dealt with Marco, with Danta’s impertinence, in the way I always did: with brutal, unambiguous violence. It was a language I was fluent i
SIGHTLESS OBSESSION Chapter Eighteen – The Scent of Rebellion
Seraphina Vellaro – POV The scent hit me the moment he entered the study. It was faint, masked by sandalwood and the crisp night air, but unmistakable: the coppery, metallic tang of fresh blood. It clung to him like a shadow, a brutal poem written in a language I understood all too well. My stomach tightened. He had been out. And someone had bled. He didn’t speak immediately. I heard him pour a drink, the clink of crystal loud in the tense silence. I kept my hands resting on the clay map, my face a carefully neutral mask. I would not ask. I would not give him the satisfaction of my fear. “Progress?” His voice was a low rumble, devoid of its usual cold precision. There was a rawness to it, an edge that hadn’t been there before. “The map is complete,” I said, my own voice steady. “But it’s a structure without a location. I’ve been thinking about the lily.” I traced the flower symbol on the clay. “My mother loved Casablanca lilies. Their scent is… distinctive. Powerful. She once told
SIGHTLESS OBSESSION Chapter Seventeen – The Taste of Control
Lucian Moretti – POV The woman in my bed tonight was a brunette, her name irrelevant. I took her from behind, my grip tight on her hips, my movements efficient and hard. Her moans were a distant noise, a soundtrack to the film reel playing behind my eyes. It was Seraphina I saw. Seraphina’s pale skin against my dark sheets. Seraphina’s back arching, not in terror, but in surrender to a different kind of force. I imagined the soft gasp that would escape her lips, a sound not of pain, but shocking, unwanted pleasure. I pictured my hand tangling in that ink-black hair, tilting her head back, my mouth on her throat, claiming the pulse that beat there. I would make her feel everything, every sensation amplified by the darkness that was her world, until her very identity unraveled and the only thing that remained was the sound of my name. The fantasy was so vivid, so consuming, that my release was a brutal, almost violent shock. I pulled out, my breathing ragged, the phantom scent of jas
SIGHTLESS OBSESSION Chapter Sixteen – The Map and the Mask
Seraphina Vellaro – POV The map was etched behind my eyes, a phantom landscape built from memory and touch. In the solitude of the Rose Room, my fingers twitched, retracing the raised lines and symbols that had bloomed in blood. A bird in flight. A flower. A crown. It was a story my mother had left for me, written in a language only I could read. When Appy came to collect me for the study, her steps were more hesitant than usual.“Miss,”she began, her voice a nervous whisper once we were in the corridor. “Miss Rose… she’s in a state today. She was asking about you at breakfast. I thought you should know.” The warning was a cold stone in my gut. “Thank you, Appy.”The study felt like a battleground before the fight.Lucian was already at his desk, the journal open before him. He didn’t speak as I entered, but his attention was a physical weight, heavy and assessing. “The map,” I said, refusing to let the silence unnerve me. I took my seat. “I need to recreate it. I can’t hold all th
SIGHTLESS OBSESSION Chapter Fifteen – The Shadow of Obsession
Lucian Moretti – POV The woman beneath me gasped, her nails digging into the muscles of my back. Her name was Chiara, or maybe Sofia. It didn’t matter. She was a body, warm and willing, a familiar distraction for the body’s base needs. I drove my dick into her with a punishing rhythm, my mind a thousand miles away from the tangle of silk sheets and the scent of her perfume. Her cries were sharp, practiced. They did nothing for me. My thoughts were in my study, wrapped in dove-gray and smelling of jasmine and vanilla. I pictured Seraphina there, seated at my desk, her slender back straight, her clouded eyes fixed on nothing and everything. I thought of the way her breath had hitched when I placed the dagger in her hand. The stark contrast of her pale skin against the dark, carved hilt. The fierce, terrifying resolve on her face as she drew her own blood. Not a flinch. Not a sob. Just pure, unadulterated will. What would it feel like to have that will focused on me? Not in defiance,
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