All Chapters of Tainted Desires; Demons. Darkness. Damnation : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

‎Kane sees Castelle lost in thought ever since he told her that the people she knows as her parents aren't her real ones and that Rem could still be alive.‎He gave her space until afternoon then he intervened.‎‎Kane: “Come here.”‎‎She hesitates. He tilts his head. His voice sharpens.‎‎Kane: “I said—come here.”‎‎She moves toward him slowly, eyes down. He watches her carefully.‎‎Kane: “Talk to me.”‎‎She swallows hard. Her voice comes out small.‎‎Castelle: “It’s nothing.”‎‎Kane: “You know I don’t tolerate lies from you. What is it.”‎‎She bites her lip, hugs herself.‎‎Castelle: “I just... I shouldn’t even be here. Look at me.”‎Castelle: “I’m not beautiful like those other women. I’m not... enough. For someone like you.”‎Castelle: “I’m soft, too much, too emotional. Weak. I’m— I'm full of drama. Fake parents, missing or dead brother, evil ex-husband”‎‎His voice cuts through like steel.‎‎Kane: “Stop.”‎‎She flinches.‎‎Kane: “You do not speak about yourself like

‎The bedroom was soaked in shadows, the flickering light of a dying candle casting long shapes on the walls. The air was thick—humid with anticipation, with the primal scent of sweat, leather, heat and Kane—a blend if smoke, cedar and citrus.‎Kane stood in the doorway like a storm about to break, his chest rising slowly, then stilling when his eyes found her.‎‎Castelle.‎Bound. Bare. Brilliant.‎‎She lay in the middle of the bed, wrists straining above her head, suspended by a web of blue silk that was beautiful but unmistakably wrong—loose in places, taut in others. Sloppy. Lazy. Mason and Lyra’s must have done this. Kane’s eyes narrowed.‎‎Her ankles were cuffed to the footboard, legs parted enough to make her hips tremble and get a clear visual of her wet pussy shivering. A strip of white linen bit between her lips, tied tight at the base of her neck. Her chest rose in short, shallow gasps, nipples peaked, skin glistening with sweat, marked with the faint red lines of struggle

‎That evening, the manor was cloaked in its usual quiet, but the silence was suspicious—thick with maddening tension. ‎‎Kane descended the grand staircase slowly, the echo of his boots deliberate on the polished wood. His shirt hung open, collarbone bruised from Castelle’s teeth, his hair still damp from a rushed shower. There was a scratch on his jaw—thin, red, and wicked—and the corner of his mouth curled with the memory.‎‎He entered the breakfast room without a word. At the long table sat Mason and Lyra—smirking like foxes with feathers stuck to their lips. Across from them, Lucien sipped his coffee like he hadn’t heard the moan that shook the house hours earlier. Matteo scrolled through his phone, but his brows twitched—he was listening, just not pretending to care.‎‎Kane set his hand on the back of a chair, tapping one ringed finger against the wood. Once. Twice.‎‎“I see you’ve both rediscovered your creative flair,” he said finally, voice like silk over steel.‎‎Lyra lo

‎‎Mason lay curled on his side, tangled in the sheets like a sulking cat, the morning light revealing every scratch, welt, and love-bite that marked his skin like tattoo.‎‎Matteo stood by the window, buttoning his black shirt, the weight of the day’s mission already pressing against his shoulders. But it was Mason’s quiet huff behind him that made him pause.‎‎“You’re not allowed to see Castelle,” Matteo said finally, turning.‎‎Mason groaned. “Kane’s orders?”‎Matteo nodded. “Part of the punishment. No contact. No chaos.”‎‎“But I didn't even touch her! Just helped Lyra tie her up,” Mason whined dramatically, rolling onto his back with a wince. “God, my ass still hurts. You Wrecked me.”‎‎“And you loved it,” Matteo said dryly, though the faintest smile tugged at his mouth.‎Mason pouted. “That’s not the point. I look like I lost a fight with a wolf.”‎‎Matteo walked over, crouching by the bed. His fingers brushed over a bruised hip, then a scratch on Mason’s side. “You didn’t

‎The room was still. The warmth of their bodies tangled beneath the duvet. Kane’s breathing had evened out, his arm draped protectively over Castelle, who lay nestled against his chest, heart steady for the first time in days.‎‎But then—‎‎A scream tore through the silence. Shrill. Gut-wrenching. Kareen.‎‎Kane was up before she could blink.‎‎Castelle barely had time to grab the sheet and clutch it to her chest before he was at the door, yanking on his trousers with shaking hands. She followed quickly, dragging on the nearest robe as her heartbeat thundered in her ears.‎‎Down the hall, doors opened. Footsteps echoed. Shouts filled the once-quiet corridors.‎‎Another scream—“HELP! KANE!” Kareen’s voice cracked like glass.‎‎They burst into Leo’s room at the same time as Lucien and Matteo, Kareen crouched on the floor, sobbing violently over something—someone.‎‎Leo.‎‎He was slumped at the foot of the bed, his wrist split open in a jagged line. Blood pooled beneath his limp