CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36: OWNING YOU

"Hold," she spoke as she gripped his arm.

Her fingers were cold, trembling against his skin, but there was still strength buried under the fear.

Aiden smiled as he turned, that smile more blade than warmth.

"...why should I?" he asked.

The words curled through the air like smoke, sharp and poisonous.

Catherine’s lips parted. She looked toward her husband again, the Viscount, sprawled across the bed inside, his chest rising and falling with the deep, oblivious rhythm of drunken sleep.

She hated him in this moment—for being deaf to danger, blind to the shadow pressed against her balcony.

But she feared him too.

"...don’t you fear..." she whispered, voice fragile, threaded with a breath that might shatter if pressed harder. "Don’t you fear your lord? My husband... even if... even if he believes you, he will kill you in the end, you will diiieee..."

Her throat tightened around the word die.

Aiden tilted his head, as though testing the flavor of her terror. "...I’m a peasant, my lady, I have nothing much to live for." His voice vibrated with a low, dangerous cadence, each syllable landing as a lie he almost believed himself.

"I already told you, I was lonely, still am. So your threats... your simple threats to push me far away won’t work on me."

The words dug beneath her skin, burrowed in her thoughts. Catherine felt her back press lightly against the door front, though she hadn’t meant to move.

[Personality: anxious / anger afraid]

"...just come... here," she voiced, her whisper unsteady but insistent. Her hand tugged faintly at his shirt, betraying hesitation and desperation bound in the same grip. "We can still talk this out."

Aiden’s gaze flickered once more to the lord, ensuring the man still slumbered. His gamble balanced on a knife-edge, and so far fortune leaned his way.

"My lady," he said softly, a smile carving across his lips, "there is nothing to talk about."

He moved closer, slow but deliberate, until the perfume she wore—jasmine laced with some heavier, almost resinous note—was thick in his lungs. He could taste wealth in it, decadence, power disguised in sweetness.

She stepped back.

Her heel scuffed against stone.

She was strong—he knew it. All nobles were. The story had painted them with blood thicker than steel. But strength meant little when emotions spiraled out of control. Fear was a weapon, sharper than any blade. He would wield hers like a craftsman.

Step. Closer.

Step. Further back.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"You don’t want gold. You don’t want wealth. What do you want?" she asked. Her voice shook as though each word cracked on the edges of her resolve.

Her eyes searched his, and in the darkness, she glimpsed something far more dangerous.

Something feral. Something hungry.

Her instincts had screamed this truth all along. The man before her was not desperate—he was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept moving back until the railing kissed her spine, the balcony corner trapping her. His shadow pressed long and heavy across her body, until his breath brushed her skin.

"Just name the price," she whispered, voice trembling, "and leave my daughter alone. Leave us alone..."

Her words dissolved into the space between their lips, too close, much too close. She could feel the heat of him, the scent of wine and something darker that clung to his chest. Her gaze flicked again to her husband, terrified of him waking, of him seeing—

The marks across the boy’s chest. The half-naked body. The scent of fresh sex clinging to him like an accusation.

Gods—had it been her daughter? Or another? Did it matter?

Shame struck her ribs, shame and a fear that bled into one another.

Aiden saw her unraveling. Her nerves were fraying thread by thread. Time was running against her, and he would twist it to his favor.

He had diluted blood into the wine earlier, a gamble that had yielded too little. Not enough to take her. But what if...

"My lady..." His voice softened, though it coiled with intent. His hand slid behind his back, drawing a small knife, the silver edge winking in the lantern light.

Catherine’s body stiffened, breath snagging in her throat. Her heart slammed against her chest, harder, faster. Was this it? Was this boy’s plan all along?

"What I really want..." His words were slow, deliberate, savoring her unease. "...you cannot understand. You don’t have the knowledge I do."

Then, without warning, he dragged the blade across his own arm.

A crimson line split open, blood spilling thick and heavy.

Catherine gasped, a sound sharp and strangled, as the hot droplets spattered—some onto the floor, some across her gown, warm against the pale skin of her thighs.

Her stomach turned. Her throat closed. "Wh...what are you doing?"

The scent of blood was metallic, thick, cutting through the floral perfume that moments ago had seemed so overpowering.

"You asked what I want," Aiden said, eyes burning with gold. He lifted his bleeding arm, licking it slow, obscene, taking the metallic bitterness into himself. Then, without hesitation, he pressed forward.

Closer.

Closer.

Her lips parted in shock, and before she could turn her face, before she could summon the strength to shove him away—

His mouth crashed against hers.

His tongue forced his blood between her lips, hot, copper, burning.

Her muffled cry, "Mmm—!" broke against him.

Rage, lust, and something unnameable surged through her, and she shoved him back with a strength that tore him from her like paper. He flew backward, stumbled, gasping against the stone.

[Catherine Von Leonidus

Possession: charmed possession

Personality: afraid/anxious/little horny]

Yesss! His mind screamed, triumph searing through him.

[Ember: 98% → 40%]

"Wh...what are you doing? Don’t you love my daugh—" she choked, voice breaking, when a sudden jolt ripped through her chest.

Her words faltered.

Her lungs tightened. Her heartbeat raced as if her own body were trying to strangle her.

"...Emotion amplification," Aiden said, cutting her off. His smile was cold, brutal. "Anxiety and fear—maximum."

The ember inside him drained faster than it ever had, like sand spilling from a broken hourglass. His veins ached with hollowness. His body screamed as though it was burning itself alive.

But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

These nobles—these parasites—had played with his life as though it was ash on their table. Now, he would carve his mark into theirs.

Her knees buckled. Catherine crumpled to the balcony floor, one hand clutching her chest, the other scraping weakly against stone.

Her breath tore ragged, wheezing, as if invisible hands squeezed her throat. Tears rimmed her eyes.

Her body betrayed her.

Step. Step.

Aiden approached, slow, savoring, until his feet stood before her trembling hand.

She clawed at his ankle, desperate. "What... what did you do to me...?" Her voice broke like glass dropped on stone.

Aiden didn’t answer immediately. He knelt before her, golden eyes meeting her storm of blue. Tears streaked her cheeks, hot against chilled night air.

Simple, it was just an anxiety attack.

[Ember: 31% → 19%]

His hunger roared now. His throat was a furnace, his stomach a desert. His whole being screamed for more—more ember, more lust, more power.

He gripped her chin, her golden hair tumbling across his hand like silk, her eyes wide and trembling, reflecting both fear... and something else, something unwanted.

" nothing much.....just, Owning you..." His whisper slid into her ear like poison. "Sleep... and forget what happened tonight."

And just like that, her body slumped.

Unconscious.

Her chest rose in shallow, trembling breaths. Her hair fanned across the floor, her gown disheveled, her lips stained faintly with his blood.

Aiden’s hunger surged, wild, clawing. His hand slid along her thigh, squeezing, savoring the heat beneath silk.

Every nerve screamed: Take her. Mark her. Claim her.

But—

No.

Not now.

Even with his blood and kiss forced inside her, even with ember burning her veins, she was only charmed. Others would have been consumed, their will erased. But her lineage—her blood—was stronger.

If he pressed further, he risked ruin.

His chest heaved. He pulled back, hands trembling with restraint. His eyes flicked toward the Viscount. Still asleep. Useless, oblivious.

He looked back at Catherine’s slumbering body.

"Not now... but soon," he whispered.

[Ember: 7%]

His body convulsed with emptiness. Every step was pain. His mouth was dry, his chest hollow, his veins on fire.

’Fuck... I need to move,’ he thought, dragging himself upright.

He fumbled into his trousers, his body sluggish but mind sharp enough to catch the glint of the platinum coins stacked in a velvet bag.

A bitter grin tugged at his lips.

"She’ll forget tonight," he muttered. He grabbed the bag, the weight of wealth pressing against his weak arm. "Might as well get paid."

Coins clinked as he secured them.

He turned once more, eyes lingering on her body sprawled in moonlight.

A painting of vulnerability—of a predator’s triumph.

His lips curved faintly.

"...haaa... tonight, tonight was something..."

Then he vaulted the balcony, landing three stories below with feline grace, though his knees nearly buckled from exhaustion.

The garden air was damp, night insects humming. His vision tinted red, every shadow alive with hunger.

The ember inside him guttered, a candle devoured by wind.

"I need..." His voice cracked, dry, his body trembling. "I need..."