Ever since I woke up from fainting in the forest, something inside me wasn't right. Or rather, wasn't the same. My senses were sharper, my skin more sensitive to the touch of the wind, my dreams more vivid. I couldn't tell if it was a lingering effect of the floating figure or of the island itself. But something within me stirred, quiet and restless, as if waiting for the right signal to break through.
Declan returned at dusk. He didn't say much when he walked in—just brushed his fingers along my cheek and told me we needed to talk soon. But not tonight. He looked exhausted. Or unsettled.
—The castaways aren't locals —he said softly as we watched, from one of the windows, the discreet movements of the newcomers being led by servants toward the guest houses—. They don't remember how they got here. And none of them seem to have coherent names.
—They don't remember…? —I repeated, unable to hide the chill that ran through me.
—Nothing useful —he replied.
—For now, don't go near them —Declan added, turning toward me, his brow still tight—. They're resting in the stable house. They look dehydrated, confused. Send Ky with medicine, something to keep them stable… but nothing more. I don't want any of them near you until we know who they are.
Melyra burst into the room right then, as if she'd been listening at the door. Her expression was serious—more serious than usual. Not fearful. Silenced warning.
The silence that followed was immediate. The tension, almost physical.
And that night, I couldn't sleep. Declan was in his study—I imagined him poring over his ancient books. Something in my body was restless. I decided to go out and wandered through the garden in silence, without direction, simply following the instinct to breathe fresh air.
That's when I saw him. One of the castaways. He was by the fountain, drinking straight from a bottle. His body swayed. His eyes lifted when he noticed me, and something in them wasn't fully human.
—Such beauty… —he whispered, taking a step toward me.
I stepped back immediately.
—You shouldn't be here —I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He laughed, drunk, and took another step.
—Are you the lord's wife? Or just his entertainment?
I tried to run, but I tripped over a root hidden in the shadows. I fell to the ground, pain shooting through my ankle. The man came closer, that twisted smile on his face. And just as his hand lifted, something threw him back with brutal force.
Declan.
He pinned him by the neck against the trunk of a tree. His eyes burned—literally. Like live embers. The castaway screamed, not in fear, but in pain. The air around Declan vibrated.
—Touch her again and there won't be enough of you left to bury —he growled.
He released him violently. The man's body hit the ground like an empty sack. Declan turned to me and, without a word, knelt down.
—You're hurt.
He lifted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. I felt his chest rising sharply—not from physical effort, but from contained fury. He didn't speak the entire walk back. He just held me tightly against him.
He kicked open the main door. Mrs. M was in the foyer and rushed toward us.
—What happened?
—Mrs. M, one of the castaways is intoxicated and was about to attack Sereniah. Alert the servants. Have him taken to the dungeon immediately. I'm not letting this go.
His jaw was clenched. I could see the rage in him.
—And Lady Sereniah?
—I'll take care of her —he said as he carried me toward the room.
When we entered, he closed the door with his foot and gently set me on the bed. His breathing still uneven, his hands still trembling, yet his voice was soft when he spoke:
—I'm going to heal you.
He knelt in front of me and took my foot carefully, lifting the hem of my dress. I watched in silence, unsure if my ankle hurt more or if it was the tension hanging in the air. His hand brushed the swollen skin with a reverence I hadn't expected. There was no rush in his movements. Only quiet devotion.
—It's not broken —he murmured, more to himself than to me—. But it hurts, doesn't it?
I nodded.
From the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a small vial. He uncorked it and poured a few drops of golden liquid onto my skin. It burned at first, but then a warm, almost pleasurable sensation spread up my leg. I closed my eyes for a moment.
—Don't go out alone at night again —he said, his voice rough—. Not while there are strangers on this island.
When I opened my eyes, he was still there, in front of me, watching me as if he needed to make sure I truly was all right. He didn't move. He didn't blink. It felt as though something behind all that control was about to snap.
My ankle healed significantly—like the injury was already days old. Magic?
He answered as if he'd read my thoughts.
—It's my blood. On you it won't work perfectly, but it's enough.
Wow.
And there I was, still not grasping what I had gotten myself into. I suddenly began to cry—couldn't hold it back. Was it anger? Fear? Relief that he'd arrived in time?
He looked up at me and gently placed his hands on my shoulders.
—You're all right. You're safe —he murmured—. I won't let anything happen to you.
—But if you hadn't been nearby —I said between sobs— he would've… he would've…
The tears wouldn't stop. And for a moment, he swallowed all his rage and held me. Held me so tightly. He let me cry on his shoulder for a while without saying a word.
Suddenly, the sadness dissolved, replaced by anger and desperation. The thought that a stranger had almost put his hands on me—that he had gotten that close—ignited something inside me. I shot up, stepping away from Declan and pacing across the room. He just watched me. And then, all at once, it hit me. I stopped, wiped my tears, and looked straight at him—eyes still wet.
—I want you to take my virginity.
I didn't look away. I didn't even know where the courage came from—but the anger wasn't letting me think.
Surprise flashed across his face. I could see him analyzing, weighing the moment. His wisdom kept him calm, though his hand on the edge of the mattress trembled. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me.
—You heard me. Make me yours, Declan.
—Don't take this the wrong way —he said finally— but I don't want to jump to conclusions. Tell me what's going through your mind.
And being the spoiled brat that I am, I only said:
—Are you rejecting me?
He sighed, shoulders sinking.
—No…
—Then?
—Are you sure about why you're asking me this right now?
—Isn't it obvious? If you hadn't gotten there in time, that man… my first time, that man… —I stopped, words falling apart— it would've been him. I was talking nonsense, still in shock. I don't want my first time to be a surprise—good or bad. I choose who and where. Don't you think? You're my husband. Who better for this, right? —I said with a bitter tone. Romance was nowhere in sight.
—Sereniah, what are you saying? You're speaking from anger and shock. Please, let's calm down.
—So you don't want me? —I challenged, defiant.
He stood up abruptly and walked toward me. I could see the contained anger in him too as he approached. I took steps back, my body unprepared for this shift. I began to regret pushing him—but he didn't stop until my back hit the wall.
He placed one hand beside me, the other slipping around my waist.
—Is this what you want? —he whispered, his lips brushing mine, only millimeters away. I could smell his breath, his sweat, his masculinity… and my fear.
I didn't move.
He stayed like that for seconds, waiting for some response from me. And then, just before pulling away, he whispered:
—I want you to want me… to desire me. Not out of obligation, or fear, or because you don't want someone else to be the first. When I make you mine, Sereniah, it will be because your whole body wants me and only me. Understood? —he murmured, his voice lower, rougher— Because you want it with every part of you. Not as refuge. Not as escape. But as affirmation.
I remained there, breathing quietly, and though he said nothing else, his eyes promised that when that moment came… there would be no doubt. Only fire.
And then, with the same calm with which he had arrived, he walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my pulse still burning in my throat.