Chapter 76 Seraphine
Something brushed the edges of my awareness.
Not heat.
Not shadow.
An endless, hollow quiet—so vast it felt like standing at the edge of a frozen sea.
My breath stuttered.
This is him, I realized suddenly. This emptiness. This cold.
This was what Thane lived inside.
No wonder he clung to fire.
No wonder he wanted me.
He leaned close, water dripping from my hair, his voice low and certain. “There’s nothing you can do,” he murmured. “You belong to me now. I know exactly what you are.”
My pulse thundered.
“You feel everything,” he continued, almost reverent. “Your power answers your emotions. Rage, fear, desire—beautifully inefficient. I’ve waited a long time to find someone like you.”
I shook violently, teeth chattering, fury and exhaustion tangling until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“I won’t—” My voice cracked. “I won’t be this.”
He smiled.
“You already are.”
Then he forced me under again.
Cold crushed in, stealing breath, stealing thought. Panic flared—and with it, something darker. Hotter. I couldn’t hold it back this time. I was so tired. So angry. So sick of being pulled apart and reshaped and told what I was allowed to be.
I wasn’t built for this.
I wasn’t made to be owned.
When he dragged me back up, water pouring from my mouth and nose as I gasped, something inside me snapped.
I opened my mouth—and screamed fire.
Not red.
Not blue.
Purple.
It tore out of me in a violent arc, slamming straight toward Thane—and Renee behind him. Thane swore, releasing me instantly as he threw up a barrier, deflecting the blast just enough that it scorched the stone instead of flesh.
I collapsed to the floor hard, chains clanging, coughing violently as water burned out of my lungs. I wheezed, gasped, clawed for air like it was the first time I’d ever breathed.
Heat followed.
Not wild—absolute.
The room surged into oppressive warmth, stone sweating, metal groaning as the temperature spiked fast and brutal, like stepping into a sealed sauna. The women cried out in shock. Renee stumbled back, swearing.
She lunged for me, fury twisting her face.
But Thane caught her wrist mid-swing.
His grip tightened.
“You’re getting far too comfortable,” he growled, eyes never leaving me.
Renee froze.
“I hired you because you were tired of being Kael’s little guard dog,” Thane continued coldly. “Because you wanted more.”
He leaned closer to her, voice dropping to something lethal.
“But you don’t touch what’s mine.”
Renee swallowed hard, jerking her hand back.
I lay on the floor, shaking, soaked, burning, barely conscious—but alive.
The human stepped forward, wiping sweat from his brow with a shaking hand.
“This—this isn’t supposed to happen,” he said, voice cracking. “Is it?”
No one answered him.
Thane moved first.
He shoved Renee aside without even looking at her, his attention locking onto me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. His hand closed around my chains and he yanked—hard.
Metal bit into my wrists as I was dragged upright, my feet barely finding the floor before he hauled me flush against him.
“Do it again,” he demanded.
I glared up at him, chest heaving, heat rolling off my skin in suffocating waves. My vision swam, but I held his gaze anyway.
“I’ve never—” I stuttered, my throat raw, “I’ve never done purple fire before.”
That gave him pause.
Just for a second.
Thane studied my face, my breathing, the way the air around me shimmered like it couldn’t decide whether to burn or freeze. His grip loosened slightly—not kindness, just curiosity.
“Then tell me this,” he said slowly. “What colors have you seen before?”
I swallowed hard.
I didn’t want to help him.
Didn’t want to give him anything.
But my lungs still burned from the water, my body screamed with exhaustion, and some instinct deep inside whispered that honesty—controlled honesty—might buy me time.
Time mattered.
“I…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “The first time I ever lost control—I set Dante’s office on fire.”
Renee stiffened at the name.
Thane didn’t look away from me.
“It was red,” I continued quietly. “Just red. Pure fire. Anger. Panic. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
His fingers tightened briefly, urging me to keep going.
“The next time… it was blue,” I said. “It matched his. Dante’s fire. And when I call it on purpose, when I’m focused—it’s usually red.”
Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy.
Thane’s mouth curved slowly.
Satisfied.
“Of course,” he murmured, easing the tension on my chains another fraction. “You’re evolving.”
The word sent a chill through me that no heat could touch.
“Fire responds to emotion,” he went on, almost conversational now. “Red for passion. Rage. Desire. Blue for contentment. Safety. Connection.”
His gaze flicked briefly to the scorched stone behind him.
“And purple,” he said softly, eyes returning to mine, “could be fear.”
Or stress.
Or pressure.”
His thumb brushed the chain at my throat—not a caress, not quite a threat either. A reminder.
“Emotion is subjective,” he added. “Unique.”
He turned suddenly, gesturing toward one of the women chained along the wall—her skin flushed, sweat beading at her temples from the heat I hadn’t pulled back yet.
“You,” he said sharply. “What color is happiness?”
She flinched, eyes wide, then swallowed. “G-green,” she whispered. “Like… fresh leaves. Spring.”
Thane nodded, then pointed to the woman beside her. “And you?”
“Yellow,” she said shakily. “Warm. Like sunlight.”
He hummed, pleased, like a man cataloging specimens.
I felt sick.
“You see?” Thane said, turning back to me. “This is why you’re special. You don’t just burn—you translate.”
His eyes gleamed.
“And that purple fire?” he continued quietly. “That’s not weakness.”
His grip tightened again, possessive.
“That’s your breaking point speaking.”
My stomach twisted.
Because somewhere deep inside me, my dragon stirred—not afraid.
Not confused.
Listening.
Learning.
And I knew, with a clarity that terrified me, that whatever I was becoming—
They weren’t ready for it.
Not even Thane.