4. Rylan
4
RYLAN
I ’ve always known that power has a scent. Fear has one too. But desperation?
Desperation smells like blood and sweat, like the sharp tang of breath stolen in fear. It smells like her.
Seraphina.
She sits in my chair like she belongs there, like she hasn’t just bargained for her life in a den of vipers. A human in the heart of a dark elf city, holding stolen knowledge she doesn’t yet understand. She has no idea the kind of game she’s playing.
And yet, she plays it well.
I watch her, this little thief with her head held high, as though she’s already won. It’s almost amusing.
I roll the stolen parchment between my fingers, feeling the delicate texture of aged vellum. The seal—Lartina’s seal—glares up at me like a specter of the past, a reminder that I’ve been played before.
Not this time.
"You're either very brave," I murmur, trailing my thumb along the parchment’s edge, "or very stupid."
Seraphina's lips twitch. "Maybe both."
I lean against the desk, close enough that I see the flicker of exhaustion in her eyes, the subtle tremor in her hands. She’s barely holding herself together. A wounded animal, pushed into a corner, forced to snarl to keep from breaking.
I wonder how much further I can push her before she snaps.
“Tell me something, little thief.” My voice is smooth, laced with quiet menace. “How does a human—a slave—come into possession of something that should not exist?”
“Haven’t we already talked about this?” she mutters back.
I smirk. “Perhaps I’m unsatisfied with your answer.”
Her fingers curl against her thighs. “Luck.”
I chuckle, low and dark. “Luck doesn’t get you in my door.”
She says nothing, but the tension in her body betrays her. Whatever the truth is, she’s not willing to hand it over yet.
That’s fine. I enjoy making people talk.
I straighten, my smirk slow, deliberate. “Do you know what I do to spies?”
Seraphina tilts her chin up, meeting my gaze with fire. “I’m not a spy.”
No hesitation.
Interesting.
“Then what are you?” I step closer, letting silence spread, letting her feel my intimidating presence. “A liar? A runaway? Or are you just someone who enjoys bleeding for secrets you don’t understand?”
Her breath catches. Just a fraction. But I hear it.
Good.
I shift, circling behind her, my voice low, coaxing. “If I take this deal, you become mine. Do you understand that, little thief?”
She stiffens.
I rest my hands on the arms of the chair, caging her in. Close enough to hear her heartbeat. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin.
Her breath is sharp, but she doesn’t pull away. “Yours?”
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. “Did you think I’d offer protection out of kindness?”
She swallows, her throat bobbing. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
I lower my mouth near her ear, let my words ghost over her skin like a promise wrapped in silk. “It means no one touches what belongs to me. Not Lartina. Not her guards. Not the ones hunting you in the dark.”
Her pulse stutters.
I wait.
She whispers, “And the price?”
There it is.
I straighten, letting my hand drift under her jaw, tilting her face up. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers, too soft for this world.
“The price,” I murmur, “is your obedience.”
Her breath shudders, her body going rigid.
She thinks this is about submission. About control. And maybe it is.
But it’s also about something more dangerous.
She has secrets. Secrets I need.
She has a fire inside her, one that Lartina clearly fears. That alone is worth keeping her close. But more than that, I want to know what makes her burn.
She exhales sharply. “So, I’m a prisoner.”
“No,” I say softly. “You’re an investment.”
Her laugh is bitter. “And what if I say no?”
I tighten my grip—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her of exactly where she is.
“You won’t,” I say simply.
She stills.
She knows I’m right.
I let her go, stepping back, watching her closely. “Swear it.”
She hesitates.
I don’t move. I don’t blink. I let her savor the moment, the weight of me.
Slowly, she nods. “I swear.”
Something dark coils in my gut, satisfaction curling through my veins.
“Good,” I say, turning away. “Then let’s begin.”