BLOOD FOR A BRIDE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

— ASARAIAH KAINE —The air shifted before he even spoke.Drayan filled the doorway like the calm before a storm — dark coat, rolled sleeves, rain still clinging to his hair. He looked too casual for this place, for this office that smelled of control and consequence.But what struck me most wasn’t how he looked.It was where his eyes went first.Not to Malrik.To me.“Asaraiah.”Just my name.Soft. Familiar. Dangerous in a room like this.I felt Malrik still beside the desk, though he didn’t move. I could almost feel the tension hum off his body, that quiet, restrained kind of violence that lived in his blood.“Drayan,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “You have something for me?”Drayan’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before shifting. “A report from the docks. Montova crates came through last night. The cargo manifest doesn’t match the permit your men cleared.”Malrik leaned back in his chair. “And?”“Half the shipment disappeared before customs even touched it.”My stomach twis

-ASARAIAH KAINE - The mansion was quiet when I returned. Too quiet. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, just expectant. For a moment, I stood in the entryway, my eyes tracing the long stretch of marble, the chandelier still faintly glowing, the faint hum of power in the air. Everything about this place looked the same, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been watching for me to come back. “Finally,” a soft voice called from the stairs. I looked up to see Gaya, descending gracefully, a glass of red wine in her hand, her hair braided down her shoulder in loose waves. She was barefoot — something that always surprised me about her. Everyone else in this family moved like soldiers. Gaya moved like music. “I was beginning to think you’d let Kavin drive you straight off a cliff,” she said lightly. I smiled despite myself. “He tried.” That earned a soft laugh. “Then I’ll send him flowers for the effort.” She reached me, her perfume faintly floral, something calmin

— ASARAIAH KAINE — By evening, I’d almost convinced myself I imagined it. The east wing. The woman. The voice. Almost. The sunlight that spilled through the mansion’s tall windows felt too bright, like it was trying to burn away the memory. I’d bathed twice. Changed clothes. Tried to eat. Nothing helped. The whisper clung to me like a scent that wouldn’t wash off. When the front doors opened, I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. The atmosphere shifted — subtle, but immediate. Servants moved quieter. The air went still. Malrik Kaine was home. He didn’t announce himself. He never did. He simply appeared — tall, unbothered, immaculate. There was a faint smear of something dark on his sleeve; blood, maybe. But no one said a word. He saw me sitting at the dining table and stopped halfway across the hall. His eyes flicked over me once — as if scanning for damage — before he spoke. “You’re awake.” The way he said it made it sound like I shouldn’t be. I forced a calm tone.

— ASARAIAH KAINE —The house was quiet when I stepped out.Too quiet.The kind that pressed against your ears like the air itself didn’t want you to breathe.It was past midnight, and I wasn’t sure what exactly had pulled me out of bed — a sound, a presence, or the simple fact that my thoughts refused to shut up.I just knew I couldn’t stay in that room any longer.My bare feet made no sound on the marble as I walked. The corridors were dim, lined with portraits of people who didn’t look entirely human — eyes too sharp, faces too still.Every time I passed one, I felt like it turned slightly to follow me.By the time I reached the study door, I caught movement through the crack of light spilling onto the floor.He was back.Malrik stood behind his desk, shirt unbuttoned halfway down, a bottle of whisky beside an untouched glass. His jacket hung over the chair. The white of his shirt was stained — not with ink.Blood.It ran in a thin line down his ribs, dark and half-dried.I froze at

— ASARAIAH KAINE -I hadn’t seen him since the fashion show.Not really.He’d been home, but not there.Meetings. Calls. Locked doors. That kind of silence that hums through the house until it feels alive.I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. That the weird ache in my chest was just exhaustion. But every night I’d hear footsteps outside my room—slow, even, deliberate—and I’d lie awake, waiting to see if they stopped at my door.They never did.Until tonight.A soft knock. Then, “Asa.”Malrik.I opened the door before I could think. He looked… tired. That was new. Shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled up, faint bruising at his jaw like he’d been in a fight.“You’re awake,” he said.“Apparently.”He studied me for a second, eyes flicking to the cup of cold tea on my nightstand. “You’ve been staring at that for an hour.”“You’ve been watching me for an hour?”The corner of his mouth twitched. “Maybe.”I sighed. “What do you want, Malrik?”“You’re angry.”“No,” I said. “I’m just—confu