Bound To The Devil's Heir のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Serena's point of View The kiss haunted me.Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again the crushing force of his mouth against mine, the taste of desperation and fury, the way his hand curled around my neck as if he could anchor me to this place forever.I had told myself I hated him. That I feared him. That everything he did locking me away, killing without hesitation, caging me in his empire was proof of what a monster Damien Alaric truly was.But the truth burned in the hollow of my chest.I had kissed him back.Not fully, not completely. But my lips hadn’t stayed still. My fingers had curled into his shirt, not to push him away, but to hold on.To feel the solid heat of his body and the terrifying certainty that in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about escape. I wasn’t thinking about freedom.I was thinking about him.The memory of it made my stomach twist in knots.How could I crave the man who killed without blinking? How could I feel safer in the arms of a devil than in the t

Serena's point of View The silence after Damien’s words felt like a blade pressed against my throat.Tell me everything you know. Now.My lips parted, but nothing came out. The air itself seemed heavier in the room, weighted with his suspicion, his rage though it wasn’t the explosive kind I had braced for. It was colder, quieter, like the calm before a storm you know will shatter everything in its path.I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look away from him.For days, weeks even, I had carried the memory of Matthias’s voice in that cell like a hidden wound. His laughter, his threats, the way he spoke so casually about “deals” and “outsiders,” as if lives were nothing more than tokens on his board. I hadn’t told Damien not because I wanted to betray him, but because I had been terrified. Terrified of what it would mean, terrified of how he would react.Damien had a way of consuming everything around him when anger took hold. I had seen it, felt it. And if I confessed now would I be unlea

Serena's point of View The air inside Damien’s mansion had changed.Not in the way walls crumble or lights flicker when a house begins to die.No, this was subtler. A tightening. A new kind of weight pressing against me, weaving itself into the spaces between each breath I took.It wasn’t just protection anymore.Damien’s shadow followed me, even when he wasn’t in the room. His orders lived in the air. Guards appeared in the corners like pieces of furniture I hadn’t noticed before. Every door opened only when someone else’s hand pulled it. My steps were my own, but each one landed on a floor chosen for me.He was binding me. Not with chains, not with locks at least, not anymore.With something worse.With power. With blood spilled in my name. With secrets whispered only to me, as if my silence was another vow tying me to him.And somehow, the longer I stayed here, the more the mansion itself began to feel like a body his body one I was moving inside of. Every wall was a rib, every

Serena's point of View The smell of blood clung to the walls.It wasn’t just the metallic tang lingering in the hallways of Damien’s mansion it was in the rugs, the air, in my skin itself. No matter how many times I blinked, I still saw it, painting Damien’s shirt, soaking into the floorboards, dripping from his hands as if he carried war in his palms.And I should have run. Any sane woman would have.But as I stood there, trembling, my back pressed against the cold marble, all I could think about was him. Damien.Not the man who killed without hesitation. Not the heir to an empire built on ash and bone. But the man whose eyes found mine in the chaos, burning with something I didn’t dare name.He was drenched in crimson, his breath ragged, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might break. And still, he was alive. Still, he had chosen to live, to fight, to protect everything he claimed was his including me.And that terrified me more than the corpses on the floor.Because when

Emilia’s POVThe Alaric mansion was always too big for me.As a little girl, I often thought the walls whispered Damien’s name. His laughter echoed longer than mine. His footsteps were heavier, respected even as a child. And whenever Father’s voice rose across the marble halls, it was never to summon me it was always for him.I used to hide in the shadows of the grand staircase, clutching the banister with small fingers, the wood polished so perfectly I could see my reflection. A little girl with wide, uncertain eyes. A girl who wanted to be seen.But Father’s eyes never looked at me.“Damien, you are my heir.” His words rolled like thunder, powerful, undeniable. “You carry my blood, my strength, my future. The empire will be yours.”I remember that day vividly. I was six. Damien was only eight. We were children, yet the weight of crowns and shadows had already been placed on his head, while I stood barefoot in the corner, watching.Mother was there too. She stood beside Father, smi