Todos los capítulos de BLOOD FOR A BRIDE : Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

— ASARAIAH KAINE —The morning after felt wrong.The mansion was too neat, too polished, like someone had scrubbed the blood out of it overnight even if no blood had been spilled. Shadows still clung to the corners, heavy as secrets, and the silence was the kind that pressed against your ears until you wanted to scream just to break it.Malrik was gone. I knew before I even asked. His absence was a weight the house carried, an emptiness too deliberate to be coincidence.“Business,” Afsana muttered when I pressed her. Nothing more.Business. That could mean anything. A deal. A body. A war.I tried not to think about it.Instead, I painted.The new paints Leina had ordered waited on my desk, unopened tubs of color bright and too clean. I dipped my brush into them anyway, dragging lines across the canvas until the shapes turned restless. Gold bleeding into black. Light trying and failing to push through shadow. My hand shook more than it should have, but I didn’t stop.“You’re going to s

— ASARAIAH KAINE —Yanila’s presence was a poison I could taste in the air.Her smile dripped honey, but her eyes glittered sharp and cruel, the same eyes that had once watched me choke on dirt while her heel pinned my throat.Now she stood in Malrik’s mansion, of all places, pretending it was concern that brought her here.“Well,” she said lightly, her gaze never leaving mine, “I couldn’t possibly let my poor sister live in such… silence. We all thought maybe something terrible happened. Maybe she was… devoured.” Her eyes flicked deliberately to Malrik, then back to me. “But I see she’s still breathing. Lucky girl.”My chest tightened. My knuckles burned from how tightly I was gripping my own palms.Gaya finally spoke, her voice cool as steel. “Visits from Montovas aren’t welcome without notice.”Yanila didn’t even flinch. She smiled wider. “How hospitable. No wonder Father was so reluctant to let her go.”Father. The word curdled in my gut.Malrik moved then. One step forward on the

— ASARAIAH KAINE — Waking felt like drowning. My body was heavy, weighed down by stone, my throat dry as dust. Every breath scraped, dragging fire through my lungs. For a moment I thought I was still on the marble floor of that study, the chandelier light blurring above me. But when my eyes finally opened, I wasn’t there. I was in our room. The curtains were drawn tight. A single lamp burned low on the nightstand, golden light bleeding across silk sheets. The air smelled faintly of smoke and antiseptic. And sitting beside me was him. Malrik. His chair was pulled so close his knee brushed the side of the bed. His hand wrapped around mine, large and steady, as if he’d been holding it for hours without moving. His golden eyes locked on me the second I stirred, the sharp edges in them cut with something I almost couldn’t bear to see. Relief. “Asaraiah,” he murmured, voice low, raw. The sound was almost a prayer. For one breath — one single breath — I wanted to sink i

-ASARAIAH KAINE- Morning came too soon. The air in Malrik’s mansion always smelled faintly of cedar and steel, but today it was sharpened with roses from the gardens below. I hated how alive the world seemed when my own body still ached from the poison in my veins. My arm throbbed where Yanila’s nail had pierced me, a reminder that even in silk sheets, the Montovas could still reach me. I sat outside in the eastern garden with Gaya, wrapped in a robe that felt too heavy for my frame. She had insisted on tea, and so the little porcelain set sat between us, steam curling against the cold morning air. “You should be resting,” she said for the third time, her tone too polished to be nagging, but close enough. “I’ve rested enough,” I murmured. My fingers traced the rim of the cup. My reflection wavered in the pale liquid. “Rest feels like a cage. I won’t live in one again.” Her eyes—so like Malrik’s, golden and sharp, flicked over me. Where his were storms, hers were knives. Calcu

— ASARAIAH KAINE —I didn’t sleep much that night.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Yanila’s smirk, her nails digging into my arm, Malrik sitting there too calm as if none of it mattered. My body throbbed with the poison’s ghost, but worse than that, my chest throbbed with something heavier—betrayal I couldn’t shake.By morning, I was already dressed.Simple jeans. A cream blouse. Sunglasses Calla shoved into my hands before she even said good morning. “Trust me,” she chirped, “you’ll thank me later. Nothing screams freedom like hiding your eyes from the world.”She looked like freedom herself—hair glossy, lips painted, a jacket too bold for the hour. She was buzzing, excited like this was her show.Drayan was different.He waited downstairs, dressed in dark slacks and a jacket, no tie, his movements unhurried but deliberate. When his gaze lifted to me on the staircase, I felt it—a pull I wasn’t supposed to feel.“You’re late,” he said, though his voice was calm, almost teasing.I a