Chapter 93
LUNA AQUAMARINE’S POV
My eyes snapped open, my chest still pounding from the dream.
Levi’s hand, pulling mine back–what the hell was that?
Why him, of all people? I hadn’t even dreamt of Katherine or Juliet before.
Just another nightmare. Weird and extremely pointless.
I rubbed my face hard and sat up, shaking my head. But for some reason, my parts of scalp felt tight.
my
My hair was combed back but a few strands were braided. My skin smelled faintly like soap and I was in a clean……. dress?
“I don’t remember putting any of these on,” I said out loud, staring down at the cloth on my body.
Then, like two stones starting a fire, it all made sense.
My fists clenched the sheets, and I felt the vein pulsing in my head.
“Alexander!” I hissed, thrashing the blanket off me.
He did it again.
Coming in, touching me, like some mental freak.
Stripping me down, washing me up, dressing me like a doll.
How the hell did he even get in here? I locked the door from the inside. I locked the windows before the meeting. Even the doors to the balcony were closed.
So how did he sneak inside!
After everything he said to me last night–useless, pathetic–he still had the audacity to come in? And even change the annoying bandage in my arm.
I grabbed at the bandage, tugging at it hard, nails digging in, my breath sharp with rage. It was shorter now, but thicker, tighter, harder to pull away. As if he knew I had been trying ti take it off.
I don’t need you dressing the wound?” I growled, yanking until my fingers slipped.
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Chapter 93
I slammed the scissors down on the table, chest heaving, throat dry.
And then came the knock.
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I pushed myself up and stormed to the door, yanking it open with a snap. My hands were still tight on the door handle when I finally saw him.
Clifford. Standing there like nothing had happened.
He wasn’t the wild–haired man I saw yesterday, he was… different.
His hair was trimmed, pulled back, though a few strands fell rebelliously across his cheek. The beard was still there, but it looked shorter and neater.
His face–leaner now, sharper. Sculpted like stone.
And those eyes.
Two–colored still. But empty. Hollow. As if whatever life he had was stolen, crushed, and he had accepted it. Was it the battle that did this to him?
He didn’t speak, he didn’t move. He just stared at me.
And then… his gaze slipped past me into my room.
I stepped out fast, pulling the door shut behind me. Sealing him away from what he thought he’d look at.
My chest burned and I cleared my throat, “Let’s go.”
He did. We moved through the corridors, the maids bowed, heads lowered and greeted like they always do. But not all of them.
Some of them froze and actually stared.
And then I realized–these girls, red in the cheeks, eyes wide, lips parting like they were seeing some painting come to life.
They were blushing over Clifford.
I didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
I kept my face straight, but inside I wanted to snort. Seeing the maids almost fainting over him made my stomach turn. I used to think Clifford and Clinton were the most handsome men alive,
Till I met an old fire–breathing freak.
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Chapter 93
零()
155 Vouchers
The thought of Alexander struck like a stone in my chest. My teeth ground together, heat boiled under my skin.
I pushed it aside and kept walking.
We reached the dining room and that’s when my legs locked for a second.
Alexander was there. Sitting at the head of the table, eating. And Fiona was there too. She was at the table. In the spot Katherine used to sit.
They weren’t close, no.
But she was there. Eating and talking to him casually while the maids worked. Her head bent forward, he tilted toward her. His hair wasn’t combed, his sleeves were rolled.
They both looked like they hadn’t slept a wink. There was a mess in their faces, in their clothes. They were in deep conversation.
And him. Alexander. He was listening. His eyes didn’t carry the weight they usually did. They looked alive, alert, focused. He was nodding at her words.
He didn’t even notice me at first.
He didn’t even look at me at first. Not even when I walked in.
The breath cut sharp inside me but I didn’t let it show. I set my jaw and kept my face blank. Fiona stopped when she finally saw me. She bowed quickly, her eyes dropped to the floor.
Alexander didn’t even greet. He just flicked his eyes to me, then down to Clifford behind me.
Clifford bowed low to him.
I didn’t bow. I pulled Clifford forward and pointed to the seat next to me.
“Sit.” I said.
Clifford hesitated for half a second but then lowered himself into the chair.
I turned my head sharply to the maids. “Serve him food. And do it quickly.”
Alexander moved then. His chair scraped the floor. He cleared his throat. The sound carried heavy. He lifted his brow slowly, not much, but enough to show the irritation sitting under his
skin.
“That seat,” his voice deep and steady, “is not meant for slaves.”
Clifford’s hands twitched against his lap. He started to stand.
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Chapter 93
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“Sit back down,” I said before he could rise. My voice cut across the table. Clifford froze, then sank back into the chair.
Alexander’s jaw worked, his teeth tight, his stare sharp as a blade. “Stand up,” he said again, this time colder.
I didn’t flinch. “Sit,” I told Clifford again. My hand pressed flat on the table, my eyes locked on Alexander’s. Clifford obeyed me.
The silence in the hall grew heavier, thicker, like stone dropping in water.
Alexander’s eyes locked on me. His jaw ticked once. “Do you enjoy testing me, woman?”
I leaned back in my chair, steady. “He sits where I tell him to. He does whatever I tell him to. And if I tell him to sit on this chair? He. Sits.”
Alexander’s eyes snapped to me. “But not here?”
I felt my heart thud but I didn’t look away. If I wanted to, I would have complained about Fiona sitting on Katherine’s seat.
But that would just make her more pitiful.
“I said no. He isn’t just a slave anymore.”
Silence fell. Fiona’s fork slipped against her plate.
Alexander took a step forward, his jaw tight. “You don’t decide that.”
I straightened my shoulders, matching him. “I make decisions for him. I branded him. He’s mine.”
His nostrils flared. “You–what?”
I didn’t blink. My voice came out steady, louder. “Clifford is my Kyrexeis.”
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AD
