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Chapter 11
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2025-08-06 21:21:41Jace
I left her half-naked in the room—skin flushed, lips bruised, innocence dripping off her like dew from a blade.And now I’m here, pacing like a fucking lunatic.Something coils in my chest, hot and sharp, like wire tightening around my lungs.My spine prickles—cold, electric—like I’m being watched. Not by a person. By a conscience I don’t believe in anymore.I hate this feeling.The discomfort. The guilt. The hunger.Is it love?God, if it is—then love’s just another kind of sickness.Welcome to the fucked-up elite.I’m a bastard. A thief. A liar. And if we set aside the minor detail that I kidnapped her, it still feels like I’m toying with something I have no business touching.She’s fragile. Too soft for this world I’ve dragged her into.And the worst part?I like it.There’s something beautiful about w
Latest chapter
THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE Chapter 14
JaxonHell didn’t need fire.Not when Jace Grey was in the room.I stood in that damn basement, surrounded by stone and silence and one man’s fury ready to swallow us whole. Damon Chevre sat slumped on the ground, his face barely recognizable—bruises swelling like tumors, blood dripping from his mouth, his nose, his pride. He was laughing earlier. Now, he was choking on teeth.Jace had gone completely off the rails.No warning. No build-up. No fucking hesitation.It was Ingrid’s face that did it.The way she looked after the act—barely breathing, gag marks across her lips, wrists raw from rope, and that tremble she was trying so hard to hide. But we all saw it.She was shaking. And that was all it took for Jace to snap.He launched himself at Damon like a goddamn warhead. Nothing could stop him—not Rick, not me, not the guards standing frozen with fear along the basement walls. All we could do was watch as fists met bone and rage turned to something terrifying.Damon tried to shield h
THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE Chapter 13
Ingrid Jace tells me my fiancé is coming.I almost laugh.What fiancé? The one I didn’t choose? The man who always acted like I was a business merger wrapped in skin?I don’t flinch. I don’t ask questions. I just nod.“You okay?” Jace asks.“Do I look scared?”“No.” He steps closer. “But if you say the word, this ends. I’ll stop.”I meet his eyes. “What’s the word?”His voice softens. “Sky.”The name hits like a punch. Our old dog. The only soft thing from our childhood. Jace never forgot.And neither did I.I reach out, steady, letting him tie my wrists behind my back—his touch rough, controlled. Leather cuffs. A braided rope against bare skin. I don’t resist. I surrender. But not to weakness.To war.The basement is a stage—cold, brutal, silent.And I’m the centerpiece
THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE Chapter 11
DamonSomething seizes my chest. A sharp, staggering weight I can’t name.Hatred? Guilt? Regret so bitter it rots me from the inside out?I don’t know. I just know it burns like hell.The replay flashes again on the screen.Ingrid.Blood smearing the ivory silk of her blouse. A gunshot wound tearing through her shoulder. The scream. The fall. Her face—raw with fear. Her body crumpled like a flower set on fire.It’s on a loop now, tormenting me. Like a punishment I didn’t know I was ready to receive.The video call had been intercepted. One of our informants sent the clip after crashing the Bishop family’s emergency security feed. They had gathered in panic—Christopher, Maricel, the council. Whispers of a kidnapping. A betrayal. They think they’ve lost her.Maybe it was staged.But I know real pain.I saw it in her eyes.And I’m the reason it exists.Our security detail—the Chevre elite—has been deployed across the entire state. Satellites scanning, comms tapped, drones hovering over a
THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE Chapter 11
JaceI left her half-naked in the room—skin flushed, lips bruised, innocence dripping off her like dew from a blade.And now I’m here, pacing like a fucking lunatic.Something coils in my chest, hot and sharp, like wire tightening around my lungs.My spine prickles—cold, electric—like I’m being watched. Not by a person. By a conscience I don’t believe in anymore.I hate this feeling.The discomfort. The guilt. The hunger.Is it love?God, if it is—then love’s just another kind of sickness.Welcome to the fucked-up elite.I’m a bastard. A thief. A liar. And if we set aside the minor detail that I kidnapped her, it still feels like I’m toying with something I have no business touching.She’s fragile. Too soft for this world I’ve dragged her into.And the worst part?I like it.There’s something beautiful about w
THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE Chapter 10
IngridHe slows again.Teasing. Testing. Torturing me with every calculated inch of space he doesn’t cross.His breath is fire against my ear, but his body never fully touches mine. Just the edge of his palm at my waist—possessive, idle, cruel.“You like that?” he murmurs, voice like smoke curling into my spine.My body says yes. My lips stay sealed.He knows. Bastard knows.Every nerve in me is screaming for more, and he gives nothing but the weight of want.I’m burning from the inside out. And the worst part? He isn’t even inside me—in heart, but who knows what this is. He’s just present—dominant, devouring, deliberate.“You want me to stop?” he whispers. His mouth is brushing the skin of my neck now, like a kiss he hasn't earned.“No.” My voice is breathy, traitorous.“Say it louder.”I clench my fists at my sides. I should slap him. I should spit in his face.Instead, I shiver.“No,” I say again. Louder. Shamefully desperate.He pulls back just enough to make me feel the distance.
THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE Chapter 9
Jace“What?”Motherfucking bastard. What do you mean what? I almost ask aloud to my question, but bite it back. Silence eats at us again—but this time, it doesn’t gnaw. It sits with us, like it belongs.I remember when she was six and I was ten.Our relationship wasn’t exactly dynamic. Especially not when my foster parents introduced me to Ingrid for the first time.She was naive—thought having a big brother like me would make everything better.And me? I just stood there. Watching.She lowers her gaze now, setting the towel aside after tending to her own wounds. Her eyes soften for a moment, like something inside her unknots.Would it be too late for me to change?Does she still see me as a monster?No.It’s not empathy that stirs in me.It’s not familial, either—not some noble Grey-line bond.I’m apologetic, sure. But not entirely.Because keeping her close is doing something else to me.Something primal.She makes me insatiable.I don’t just want to protect her—I want to possess he
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