One

***

A low growl filled the room, originating from the man breathing deeply next to me as if he were trying to restrain himself. "I will go easy on you this time, Seraphina, but don't expect it next time."

Even though we hadn't had a first time yet, the idea of a next time had the dampness between my legs growing. The possibilities of what he would do to and with me were endless.

"Not as your mate," I shook my head slightly as I leaned in closer to him, inhaling his masculine scent. "This would strictly be fucking."

His arm shot off the back of the couch, his hand lacing in my hair and pulling on the back of my neck tight enough that it was on the verge of being painful but not quite enough to hurt. My head tilted up to look at him as he spoke, his lips dangerously close to mine.

"You may have me bound right now, my little witch. But, when I take you, I will be the one in charge. You will do my bidding." His chest rumbled again as I licked my lips while he spoke. My tongue betrayed me and touched his soft and plump lips.

That one touch was electrifying.

"I think I can live with that."

***

Seraphina's P.O.V

It had been two and a half months since I found my parents dead. The horrifying scene was burned into the back of my eyelids, there for me to see every time I closed my eyes. There were days on end where I couldn’t sleep until my body forced me into a nightmare filled slumber.

The grief counselor had helped a lot with that over the past couple of months. The hardest part for them was convincing me to return to my childhood home. It took quite a bit of time before I was willing to set foot in my parents’ house again…well, it was my house now.

What didn’t help was the lack of leads the police had. Their investigation seemed to come to a standstill. It was infuriating and terrifying. There was a murderer out there who had not only gotten passed security at the gate and broken into my parents’ home, but had killed them and left without a trace.

My hands hurt from the splitting of my dry knuckles, and the strain they had been put under over the past few weeks. The broken and chipped nails were aggravating to look at, but I had bigger things to worry about.

At the very top of my list was the killer that was on the loose, but right behind that was satisfying my parents’ dying wishes.

The house and their fortune had been left to me under several conditions. I had to live in the house. It had to be passed down to blood relatives only. It could never be sold. Lastly, I had to go through and donate their belongings within the first three months of their passing, and I had spent so long avoiding their house that I had been running out of time.

The condition about the house was no surprise. It had been passed down in my family for several generations. The requirement for me to go through their belongings did have me baffled.

I had to assume it was because they didn't want me surrounded by memories of them when I would already be drowning in the grief of their passing, but it was difficult to go through their things. Crying seemed to be unavoidable as I went from room to room and cleared it of my childhood memories with my parents.

I had cleaned out the front sitting room, where all of their belongings were now boxed and stacked to the ceiling, waiting for the lawyer to witness it and the truck to come to collect it the following week…all of it.

Everything had to go, except the belongings in the attic. According to the guidelines that had been laid out in the will, it was the one room from which I was not allowed to get rid of anything. The content of the room was to be handed down to the next blood descendent upon my death.

This was nothing new to me. Ever since I could remember, the attic had been off-limits. My parents worked up there, and I was not to disturb them or enter that room.

As a young adventurer, I had tried several times to sneak in, but it seemed my parents had eyes in the back of their heads, and they would stop me before I reached the door.

Over time, the excitement to see what was in the forbidden room had lessened until I no longer concerned myself with it. They had said it was their office, so I had been expecting to find filing cabinets full of bills, and papers along with their two desks.

That image was not exciting to a child or teenager.

As I taped the final box up, I let out a sigh and glanced around the barren room. It would take time for this to feel like home again. It was bad enough that I still couldn't gather up the courage or stomach to use the front door or step foot into the foyer, but the empty house was lonely and unwelcoming.

I had quickly become acquainted with the entrance that led in from the garage as well as the back stairwell. The house was big enough that there was no need for me to ever make use of that entrance again.

The sun had long ago set, and I glanced out the window at the rain clouds thickening in the sky. They were prepared to release at any moment, mirroring the tears lining my lower eyelid.

I had spent so much time avoiding entering the house that I had been running out of time and had to rush. It took a couple of weeks, but I had finally finished going through everything. The last room was the forbidden attic, and I debated saving it for tomorrow. I may not have to donate anything from there, but I would still need to access their computers and paperwork to make sure no bills were being missed.

A quick look couldn't hurt. It would be nice to find a sweater or cardigan hanging over the back of the desk chair, one that still smelled like either parent. One that I didn’t have to get rid of like everything else. Maybe, there would be some mementos from their everyday life that I would be allowed to keep.

I smoothed down the stray hairs that had freed themselves from the warm and humid ponytail. The dry sweat on my face had left me feeling stiff after a long and hard day of working to get everything completed.

One look before bed couldn't hurt.

I pushed off the top of the box to stand before grabbing it and walking toward the front sitting room to add it to the overflowing pile. To my right, there was a large opening that led to the front entryway. I turned away without sparing it a glance and made my way up the back staircase.

The vast size of the house was going to be hard to keep up with, and I had no idea how my parents did it for so long on their own. I was sure that I would need to hire help. While money was not a concern with the large fortune my parents left me, there was a darkness hanging over my head at the thought of bringing a stranger into my family's home.

The stairs were worn and faded, dipping in the middle where everyone walked. Memories of me running up and down them as a kid flashed in my mind. The family primarily used these to keep the front staircase looking pristine for company to see when they first entered.

As I walked over a step that had a quarter-sized hole in the wood, I knew that I would need to have them fixed at some point, but I put it out of my head for now. There was enough I already needed to do without adding to it.

I paused at the second-floor landing that led to the bedrooms, debating just turning in for the night. With a shake of my head, I turned into the small cut-out in the wall that hid the stairwell for the attic.

I had finally been getting everything on my to-do list done. I told myself that I just wanted to get a peek into what I had left to deal with before I turned in and shut down for the night.

My chest warmed as I approached the top of the steps, and I took in a deep breath before placing my hand on the knob and turning it slowly, half expecting it to be locked. Yet, as I was no longer living here, my parents probably kept it unlocked all the time.

A warm gust of air left the room as I pushed the door open. My eyebrows dropped in defeat as I considered the possibility of the air condition unit for this part of the house being out of commission. I shook the thought away and decided I would check on that another time. The exhaustion that was winning the battle for my attention had me second guessing everything, so I pushed the heat to the back of my mind as well. I was too tired to deal with anything else at the moment.

I flicked my hand around the wall carelessly, expecting to find a light switch but had no luck. Stepping into the room, I expanded my search radius, stopping only when my hand hit a hanging fabric. Surely, my parents wouldn't have covered the switch.

I spun around to face the room, the limited lighting from the stairwell giving away nothing.

It can't be… no. As eccentric as my parents were, I still had a hard time accepting that even they would consider, let alone install, something so stupid.

I crinkled my nose, and my eyes squeezed shut as I cringed, my hands raised in front of my face. My palms smacked together twice, and the darkness behind my closed eyelids was replaced with a bright red as the room was illuminated.

"You have got to be kidding me. A clap-on light?"

Despite the embarrassing light source, I opened my eyes.

"What the fuck?"

Bookshelves surrounded the room, and patterned fabric covered the remaining exposed wall. My eyebrows pulled together, and my eyes widened in surprise at the sight before me. Only a few shelves actually contained books. The rest had small clear drawers and bowls of what looked to be dried herbs.

Beneath the window, there was a long flat table with what appeared to be a miniature cauldron the size of a saucepan and a line of dead plants that had been neglected over the past two months.

My throat dried as I scanned the rest of the room to see a white symbol marked across the floor and a podium to the side with a large open book overlooking the drawing. I was stunned into silence as I glanced around the large space.

This was definitely not an office.