Chapter 20
DORIAN
From his position near the market stalls, Dorian could see into the café where Ivy had relocated her performance. The sight of her surrounded by protective community members should have eased the territorial tension, but his panther remained alert, scanning the square for threats.
That's when he saw him.
The man stood at the very edge of the market, just beyond the festival boundaries where the cobblestones gave way to dirt paths.
Expensive suit that looked out of place among the autumn vendors, dark hair slicked back with product that caught the morning light, and the kind of predatory stillness that marked him as a hunter evaluating his prey.
Sebastian Crowe. Had to be.
Everything about the man's posture screamed wealth and control, from the way he held himself apart from the common festival-goers to the calculating assessment in his gaze as he studied the café windows. Looking for Ivy. Planning his approach.
Dorian moved through the crowd with deliberate casualness, angling toward the square's edge while keeping the stranger in his peripheral vision. His panther coiled beneath his skin, ready to spring, but this required finesse rather than claws.
The man noticed his approach and turned, revealing sharp features and pale eyes that held the kind of cold intelligence Dorian associated with predators who preferred psychological warfare to physical confrontation.
"Lovely little festival," Sebastian said as Dorian drew near. His voice carried cultured tones and an accent that spoke of expensive education. "So quaint. So... provincial."
"Most visitors find it charming."
"I'm sure they do." Sebastian's smile was all teeth and no warmth. "I'm here on business, actually. Looking for someone who belongs to me."
The possessive language made Dorian's vision edge red, but he kept his voice level. "Belongs to you?"
"A client who's forgotten her contractual obligations. Young woman, copper hair, lovely voice. I believe she's been performing here under the name Ivy Lane."
"Can't say I know anyone by that description."
"No?" Sebastian's pale eyes sparkled with amusement. "How unfortunate. Because I have it on good authority that she's been quite the sensation at your little festival."
"Lots of musicians pass through. Hard to keep track."
"Oh, I think you'd remember this one. Quite distinctive. Has a way of... singing that gets under your skin." Sebastian's smile widened. "Of course, that's because her voice belongs to me. Every note, every harmony, every breath she takes while performing. All mine."
The casual claim of ownership over Ivy's voice, her breath, her very essence made Dorian's control slip slightly. His pupils contracted to slits before he could help it.
Sebastian noticed immediately. "Ah. A shifter. How delightfully primitive."
"Careful."
"Why? Are you going to threaten me? How direct.
" Sebastian adjusted his expensive cufflinks with practiced arrogance.
"But I'm afraid your territorial instincts are misplaced.
The woman you're thinking of protecting signed a very binding contract.
Legally and magically. She's mine until I release her. "
"People aren't property."
"Aren't they? I paid for her training, her promotion, her career development. I invested considerable time and resources in making her voice what it is today." Sebastian's tone turned conversational, as if discussing the weather. "She's simply a valuable asset who's forgotten her place."
"And what place is that?"
"At my side. In my studio. Singing what I tell her to sing, when I tell her to sing it." Sebastian's mask slipped slightly, revealing something hungry and possessive underneath. "She's been playing at independence, but that ends now. I'm taking her home."
The word home delivered with such cold ownership made Dorian's panther snarl silently. "What if she doesn't want to go?"
"What she wants is irrelevant. The contracts are ironclad, the magical bindings unbreakable. She can choose to come willingly and make this easy, or I can compel her compliance. Either way, she's leaving with me."
"You seem very confident about that."
"I have reason to be. You see, debt has a way of demanding payment. And Ivy owes me everything." Sebastian's pale eyes fixed on the café windows where Ivy's silhouette was visible. "Her voice, her career, her very ability to make music. All borrowed from me. Time to collect."
The predatory hunger in Sebastian's gaze as he watched Ivy made something primitive and violent rise in Dorian. This wasn't just about contracts or business arrangements. This was about possession, control, ownership of another person's soul.
"There's just one problem with your plan."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"You're not in your territory anymore." Dorian stepped closer, letting some of his panther's presence bleed through his human facade. "You're in mine."
Sebastian's confident expression flickered slightly. "Yours?"
"Hollow Oak doesn't recognize ownership of people. We don't honor contracts signed under duress. And we definitely don't let predators hunt in our territory."
"How quaint. But I'm afraid your local customs don't supersede legally binding magical contracts." Sebastian's smile returned, sharper now. "The bindings I created go deeper than geography."
"Do they?"
"Oh yes. Every note she sings pulls her back to me. Every breath she takes while performing strengthens the connection. She can run to the ends of the earth, but the magic will always bring her home. To me. Also, I don’t think you are aware of our particular…
connection." His smirk grew colder as he met Dorian’s eyes.
“We have a more intimate partnership as well.”
The possessive emphasis on the final words made Dorian's careful control snap. He let his fangs extend slightly, just enough to catch the light as his lips pulled back in what couldn't be mistaken for a smile.
"Here's the thing about ownership, or partnership, as you’re claiming, Crowe." His voice carried the rumble of his panther now, dangerous and low. "Hollow Oak isn't a place where you get to own anything. Or anyone."
Sebastian took an involuntary step backward, his pale eyes widening as he registered the very real threat Dorian represented. "You can't be serious. You'd risk everything for some damaged songbird who doesn't even belong to you?"
"She doesn't belong to anyone. That's the point you keep missing."
"She belongs to me." Sebastian's cultured mask was slipping, revealing something desperate and ugly underneath. "I made her what she is. I own every aspect of her talent, her voice, her magical ability. The contracts—"
"Mean nothing here." Dorian's smile was all predator now, fangs fully visible. "Welcome to Hollow Oak, where your paper means less than nothing, and your magic runs up against protections you can't even comprehend."
The autumn wind picked up, sending leaves swirling around them in eddies of gold and crimson. Sebastian's expensive suit suddenly looked out of place against the wild backdrop, his city polish no match for the raw power that thrummed through Hollow Oak's very foundations.
"This isn't over," Sebastian said, but his voice had lost its confident edge.
"No," Dorian agreed, his panther's rumble threading through every word. "It's not. But it will be. Soon."