Chapter 28 BLOOD AND WATER
The walk from the dungeon back to the room felt like wading through deep water. Muffled. Heavy.
Dorian didn't say a word. The muscle in his jaw was pulled so tight Serra thought she could hear it snap. The few servants they passed in the corridors practically melted into the walls when they saw the look on Dorian’s face. They didn't want to be anywhere near the Alpha. They were right. Right now, Dorian was a bomb waiting to go off, and Serra was holding the pin.
When they entered the room, Dorian locked the door. Then he leaned his forehead against the cold, heavy wood. His breathing was ragged.
"Fuck..." he whispered. The word sounded less like a curse and more like a prayer. "I took you there. To that damn tunnel... I asked for your blood with my own hands."
Serra threw her bag onto the armchair. Her shoulders ached. Vespera's words kept spinning in her mind: Until you are dry.
"You didn't know, Dorian," Serra said. Her voice was tired. She wasn't trying to comfort him; she was just stating the truth. "Stop whipping yourself. You were dying. We did it. It's done."
Dorian spun around. His eyes were bloodshot. "It's not done! It’s started! The thing inside me... that seed... it caught your scent, Serra. I can feel it. It used to be dormant. Now... it’s hungry. And it doesn't want me."
Dorian yanked his shirt off, tearing the already ruined fabric. The seal on his chest cast a dim, violet light across the room. But now, the veins of the seal were moving under his skin, crawling from his heart toward his collarbones like black worms.
Serra swallowed her fear. She walked toward him. "Then we won't feed it."
"You need to stay away from me," Dorian said, backing up until his spine hit the bathroom door. "I have to send you away. Across the continent. Somewhere nameless."
Serra didn't stop. She closed the distance between them. She took Dorian’s trembling hands. They were ice cold, like grave markers.
"You aren't sending me anywhere," Serra said, her voice hard. "We made a deal, Warden. And I don't break my word."
Dorian's resistance shattered the moment he felt her warmth. He bowed his head, burying his face in the crook of Serra's neck. That massive, terrifying man shook in her arms, gasping for air. It wasn't crying; it was the collapse of seven years of isolation.
"Shower," Serra said, not with a mother's gentleness, but with a lover's resolve. "We are washing the smell of that dungeon off us. Now."
(THE CONFESSION UNDER WATER)
The bathroom was thick with steam. Hot water rained down from the ceiling.
Dorian stood under the spray, letting the water run over his head. When Serra stripped off the last of her clothes and stepped in beside him, Dorian opened his eyes.
The water washed the blood, dirt, and dungeon dust off their bodies, swirling down the drain. But it couldn't wash away the fear.
Serra picked up the soap. She touched Dorian’s back—that broad, muscular back covered in old scars. Dorian flinched, then relaxed. As Serra’s hands worked out the tension knots in his shoulders, he slowly turned to face her.
He was drenched. His hair was plastered to his forehead. And in his eyes, there was an expression Serra had never seen before. It wasn't desire. It was need.
"Why?" Dorian asked, his voice competing with the sound of the water. "Why are you still here? Vespera told you that you're a target. You should have run."
Serra placed her hand on his wet chest, right over the cursed seal. Water droplets ran through her fingers.
"Because," Serra said, looking straight into his eyes. "I don't care about the world outside. If I'm going to die... I want to die for someone worth it."
Dorian’s breath hitched. For a second, there was only the sound of the water.
Then Dorian grabbed Serra by the waist and pressed her against the cold tiles of the shower. This kiss wasn't a show or a battle like the ones before. This was a question and an answer.
Dorian’s lips crushed hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, hot and wet. His hands roamed over her body, desperate to memorize every curve of her soapy, slick skin. Serra wrapped her legs around his waist.
Under the water, skin to skin, everything else was erased. No Vespera, no Void Weavers, no curse. There was only friction. There was only heat.
"I am yours," Dorian growled against her neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin. "That seed, that curse, those gods... none of them can have you. You are mine. Your blood, your breath, everything."
Serra threw her head back, a muffled moan escaping her lips. "Then take me, Dorian. Take it all."
This union wasn't gentle lovemaking. It was an explosion of years of hunger, fear of death, and pure passion. When Dorian entered her, Serra’s nails dug into his back, scoring his skin. Pain and pleasure mingled. In the steam, they could only stay upright by holding onto each other.
Every movement Dorian made felt like he was trying to seal Serra into his very existence. And in that moment, Serra knew she would burn the world down for this man.
(AFTERMATH: THE TRUTH IN SILENCE)
Later, they lay in bed, tangled in clean sheets. The room was dim. The wind outside tapped against the glass.
Serra rested her head on Dorian’s chest. The seal still pulsed under his skin, but the rhythm was calm. Dorian’s arm was wrapped tight around her, as if someone might steal her while he slept.
"I have a plan," Serra said, breaking the silence. Her voice was sleepy.
"Shhh," Dorian said. His fingers played with her hair. "Not now. No plans. No strategy. Just this."
Serra lifted her head to look at him. "Dorian, I'm serious. We might not know how to control the seed. But Vespera said something. She said, 'They have been waiting since the Shadow Age.'"
Dorian sighed. He spoke without opening his eyes. "Yeah. So?"
"In my father's notes... there was a section about the Shadow Age. A missing section. I always thought those pages were lost. But maybe they weren't lost. Maybe they were hidden."
Dorian opened his eyes. "Where?"
"Our old house. Across the border. There was a cellar beneath the burnt library."
Dorian sat up. The sheet slipped down to his waist. His face had returned to that Alpha seriousness, but this time there was hope in his eyes.
"We'll go there," Dorian said. "Tomorrow."
Serra placed her hand on his cheek. "Tomorrow," she confirmed. "But tonight..."
Dorian caught her hand and kissed her palm, right where she had cut it in the tunnel.
"Tonight," Dorian said, "you are just mine."
He turned off the light. And in the darkness, defying the approaching storm, they held each other tighter.