EMBER POV
I had heard stories of him back in my father's pack, everyone whispered warnings about the eldest step-brother's cruelty. After seeing how he treated his own kin, I was convinced the reality was far worse than the rumors.
I let out a shaky breath, trying to steady my heart. "I'm going for a walk," I said, my voice cold as I tried to brush past him.
He stepped into my path, his hand lashing out to catch my arm. His grip wasn't like Evander's, it didn't carry that desperate, soul-deep need. This was a cruel, crushing squeeze intended to bruise.
"You're going the wrong way for a walk, little bird," Cassian drawled, his eyes roaming over my face with a look that made me feel naked. "But maybe it's for the best. My brother doesn't know how to treat a woman of your... unique talents. He sees a tool meanwhile I see a beautiful woman.
"Let go of me," I warned, lifting the heavy iron candle holder I'd snatched from the room.
He laughed, a dry, papery sound that sent shivers down my spine. "He's dying, Ember. Everyone knows it. When he falls, this kingdom falls to me. Why be a dying man's concubine when you could be a living King's Queen? Marry me and I will give you a crown that isn't stained with madness. I'll give you a life where you aren't just a vial of medicine."
Greed and raw desire swirled in his eyes, making my stomach turn. I looked him straight in the eye, my disgust rising like bile.
"You're just like my brother, Ronan," I spat. "You're a vulture waiting for your own blood to die so you can steal his scraps.
I meant my ground while trying to free my wrist from his grip.
I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on this earth."
After some difficult I managed to removed his hand from my wrist . And then I tried to shove past him, but Cassian's face transformed. The lazy, predatory smile vanished, replaced by a snarling rage.
SLAP.
The force of his hand sent me reeling. My head hit the stone masonry with a sickening thud, and the world spun into a blur of grey. Before I could find my footing, he was on me, his heavy body pinning me against the cold rock. The iron candle holder clattered uselessly to the floor, echoing down the empty hall.
"You think you have a choice?" he hissed , while his hand fumbled with the laces of my dress, his breath reeking of stale wine and fermented rot—oozing against my neck.
"You're a trade, girl. A piece of property. If I take you now, the link breaks. He'll go mad, and I'll have the throne and the girl."
"No!" I screamed, clawing at his face. My nails caught the skin of his cheek, drawing thin lines of red.
He growled, his hand moving to my throat, squeezing until the air caught in my lungs. "I'm going to show you what happens to kitchen strays who forget their place."
He leaned in, his mouth reaching for mine. I felt a wave of pure, cold terror, but beneath it, the God Mark on my forehead began to throb with a sudden, searing heat.