Weeks passed in the country, including Bonlake, where the city barely saw any shift in its weather. With winter closing in, the air had turned sharper, colder, forcing people to stockpile wood to burn through the long, unforgiving nights. As always, Sherryl sat at the desk, her fingers gripping the pen as she finished the last of her work. Two candles flickered at the edge of the wooden surface, their dim glow fighting against the darkness that pressed against the room. The only sound was the steady tick of the clock, each second stretching into the silence. It was nearing eleven. “Are you done, Sherry?” The voice drifted in from the balcony, where Grace had been standing ever since she handed out the assignment. “Yes, Lady Grace,” Sherryl answered, keeping her gaze on the parchment she had just finished filling. A gust of wind swept in as Grace stepped inside, her chiffon dress swaying around her as she moved to
Sherryl’s hands went cold. An entire Cross family port wiped off the map—just like that. She swallowed, trying to wrap her mind around the scale of destruction. “They’re that powerful?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. “What do they even gain from it? Resources can be taken in other ways.” Dallion exhaled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “True, but nothing compares to raw life force. Especially in large quantities—it’s pure, unfiltered energy.” Sherryl clenched her fists. “And it’s only poor workers?”She knew the workers at the marina were the poor innocent people who never knew what they were guarding and packing. She was sure nobody had told them about anything about what type of job they were doing but only to follow orders. “Unfortunately, yes.” He tilted his head, watching her reaction. “The poor are easy to manipulate. Remember that body you saw at the council’s facility?”
Sherryl woke to the familiar sounds of the Cross mansion stirring to life. She went through her usual morning routine, the image of the destroyed port still lingering in her mind. Later, she stood on her balcony, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea stretching below the mansion. The rhythmic crash of the waves usually brought her a sense of calm, but today, her thoughts were troubled. Suddenly, she was shoved forward, stumbling slightly. This was the second time in less than a week someone had deliberately pushed her. A chill ran down her spine. Was it a coincidence, or was something more sinister happening?She knew the Cross empire was a dark place, but someone messing with her under Dallion's nose, that person was wishing death. She tried to struggle to swim but all was in vain. Until she felt a gentle masculine hand wrapping around her.It was Dallion, he saved her again. After both Sherryl and Dallion climbed up the hill—with Dallion
The maid’s body lay lifeless on the cold ground, her head barely attached, hanging at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled beneath her, the sharp scent thick in the air. Everyone stood frozen, the shock rendering them silent. Death wasn’t unusual in their world, but it was usually kept behind closed doors—clean, quiet, and handled out of sight. Dallion had no interest in subtlety. A lesson had to be taught, and he had made his point. No one would dare step out of line again.Grace was the first to speak, her voice steady but laced with disbelief. “Dallion, why did you kill her?” She was the only one with the nerve to ask, maybe because she was older. His voice was cold, empty. “Didn’t you hear me?” “I did.” Grace sighed, then turned to the servants. “Go back to your work.” The staff, still shaken, hurried to obey. A few hesitated, their gazes flickering to the corpse, but when Nickison sho
The women didn’t linger outside. They stepped back into the mansion, leaving the butler and the dead maid still lying on the cold ground. Nickison furrowed his brows as a thought struck him—hadn’t Dallion left for the council early in the morning, riding in his usual blacked-out car? Then how had he returned without it? Had he walked the whole way back? The maid’s body remained sprawled out, her lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Blood pooled around her head, soaking into the pavement where her face pressed against the ground. Inside the mansion, in the quiet of Dallion’s room, Sherryl stood with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She watched as he entered the bathroom, not sparing her a glance as he moved. He pulled the plug in the tub before turning on the faucet, allowing steaming water to pour in. The sound of running water filled the silence. Feeling Sherryl’s eyes on him, Dallion placed his hands on the edge of the tub before a
Dallion had pulled off his mud-covered shoes, setting them aside before stepping back into the bathroom. Sherryl was already in the bathtub, submerged in warm water, her bare skin hidden beneath the rippling surface. The heat soothed her shivering body, easing the lingering chill from earlier. But she hadn’t expected Dallion to walk back in after she had stripped down completely. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said casually, not sparing her a glance as he strode toward one of the built-in cupboards along the wall. His voice was calm, unbothered. With his back to her, he rummaged through the shelves, unaware—or maybe fully aware—of the panic spreading across Sherryl’s face. Should she get out of the bath? The thought made her heart race. This had never happened before, so she hadn’t even considered that he might walk in while she was completely exposed. Her body had been mostly visible above the water before,
Dallion went to his room to fetch a medical kit. Sherryl thought he'd left her to her privacy, when she was about to get up. Dallion came back in. Sherryl opened her mouth to speak, but Dallion cut her off smoothly. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighed, his tone laced with mock disappointment. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to get here? I left my work unfinished, pushed through exhaustion, and I haven’t even had a drop of water since morning. And this—” he gestured at her, “—is the thank you I get? The world has truly grown heartless.” His voice was full of fake sadness, clearly trying to make her feel guilty for his so-called sacrifice. She frowned. “You should know better than to put your health at risk for me, Dallion.” The thought of something happening to him because of her made her stomach tighten. She didn’t fully understand what happened to men like him when they went too long without a sip of water and the urge to torture or kill someone, but she knew enough to realiz
Sherryl stood silently behind Dallion as he spoke to Nickison, the butler. He was giving out orders, instructing that the room be cleaned after being untouched for two days. She wore a dress from the collection Dallion had given her—either one belonging to his older sister or his late mother. It felt strange wearing something that had once belonged to another, but she had little choice in the matter. Days had passed since she had begun learning under Grace, who was patient enough to teach her. But even then, everything was always confirmed by Dallion—as if he didn’t quite trust anyone’s judgment but his own. Now, without any prior warning, Dallion had decided it was time for her to meet a woman at the brothel he'd mentioned before—a notorious figure in their world. She hadn’t known about the meeting beforehand. The plan had shifted suddenly when Raven, one of Dallion’s trusted associates, arrived wit
When an unintended sigh slipped past her lips, it only seemed to fuel the fire already burning in Dallion’s touch. His grip on her tightened, his heart beating steadily, his eyes alive with something dark and dangerous. His control was slipping, and he knew it. Without another word, his teeth extended, sharp and eager. "I need a taste," he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. Before Sherryl could react, Dallion sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Her skin was —warm, rich, intoxicating, it was sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. It made him wonder if it was because of who she was, something about her making it more potent, more addictive. It was like drinking from something rare, something otherworldly. Dallion never cared for attachments, never let himself be bound to anyone. He had always been clear about that. Women came and went, serving a purpose but never staying long enough to matter. But ever since he had laid eyes on
Sherryl stared at him. Was she imagining things, or was Dallion actually jealous? The thought alone sent an odd, fluttery feeling through her stomach, one she didn’t quite understand. "I don’t share, little mouse," Dallion said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Did you really think I’d be fine with you standing on a stage, under bright lights, with hundreds of eyes fixated on you?" His tone was calm, but the possessiveness in it was unmistakable. He leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Do you want to know when and how I fell for you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I think it’s time I told you properly." Sherryl’s heart pounded. "I think it’s okay if you don’t," she blurted out, already anticipating the embarrassment that would follow. Dallion clicked his tongue. As she raised her hands to push him away, he caught them effortlessly, pinning them against the bed with a smirk.
Sherryl, still quietly eating her apples, wished she could finish quickly and leave as well. Every meal in this house felt like a battlefield, tension thick in the air. She continued eating as discreetly as possible. Then, his father spoke. "You should stop spoiling the girl, Dallion. Your sister is right. We don’t want you being manipulated." His cold gaze flickered toward Sherryl, and she felt a lump form in her throat. "There have been plenty of cases where a simple girl like this has twisted her owner into doing unspeakable things—even wiping out their own family just at her word. And we both know you’ve already had your fair share of experience with betrayal." Dallion’s smirk didn’t falter. "Don’t worry, Father. I care about my family too much to kill them. Well… at least you and Grace. The rest? I can’t make any promises." His eyes drifted toward his younger half-sister. Rose’s expression darkened,
Here’s the revised version with the name changes.In the grand estate of the Cross family, the evening air was thick with the promise of an impending storm. The sky remained overcast, and a biting wind whispered through the halls. With winter creeping closer, the temperature had plummeted to an unforgiving low. If not for the warmth provided by the mansion’s insulated walls and flickering fireplaces, those unaccustomed to such cold would have perished.For the staff working in the Cross estate, survival was a luxury they didn’t take for granted. The grand halls and well-kept quarters provided a stark contrast to the bleak streets they might have otherwise called home.As the evening descended into dinner time, Dallion Cross and Sherryl Rain made their way into the dining room. Plates were brought out by silent staff, each movement practiced and precise. Sherryl, however, found herself staring at what was placed before her—a thick slab of raw meat, still red wit
Dallion studied her intently, his sharp eyes reading every flicker of doubt on her face. But he still answered, "You said you walked there because riots had blocked the main road. You took a different route and eventually found him. Later, you mentioned bringing him back, but by then, it was too late. Your mother’s condition had already worsened. What’s going on, Sherryl? Speak." His voice was firm, demanding. There was an unsettling confusion in Sherryl’s eyes as she tried to piece together the past. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "If my mom could still be alive… does that mean she would allow me to look for him?" Dallion exhaled deeply, his expression unreadable. "Yes."He didn't want to give her false hopes, he knew her father left them and he was sure her mother wouldn't have allowed her to look for him. Sherryl nodded slowly, but she wasn’t convinced. If her father had left only to return years later, what
Dallion held her closer, his grip softer now, unlike before. His hands weren’t restraining her wrists anymore—they were holding all of her, as if anchoring her. It wasn’t just his touch that had changed, but his voice too. It was calm, quieter than usual when he spoke. “Tell me, Sherryl. Do you find it difficult to trust someone with your feelings?” His words were firm yet patient. “You do realize I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on?” Something had shifted in her. He had noticed the change immediately. Moments ago, she had been fine—her pupils had been dilated, her breathing slightly unsteady—but then, suddenly, she had gone still. Her heartbeat had steadied unnaturally fast, and her eyes had turned hollow, like she was somewhere else entirely. There was only one conclusion Dallion could come to. Had someone touched her before? Her voice was low when she finally answered. “It’s nothing serious.” Slowly, Dallion loosened his hold but didn’t let her mo
Sherry barely had time to process the overwhelming sensations before her legs gave out. With a strangled yelp, she toppled sideways, arms flailing—only to land in an ungraceful heap on the floor.Dallion stared down at her, blinking. Then, slowly, a smirk curled his lips. “Well, that’s one way to show appreciation.”Sherry groaned, hiding her burning face in her hands. “I hate you.”“I know.” He crouched beside her, entirely too amused. “But if you were going to throw yourself at my feet, you could’ve at least done it with some dignity.”Bluebeard Lady chuckled from her corner. “She’s a fast learner. Even her falls are dramatic.”Sherry shot them both a murderous glare as Dallion effortlessly scooped her up. “Put me down!”“Not a chance,” he said, carrying her outside like she weighed nothing.The drive back to the Cross’s mansion was filled with Dallion’s teasing remarks—each one met with Sherry’s grumbled threats. But
The tent’s lanterns flickered softly, casting golden light over velvet drapes and aged artifacts. The scent of incense thickened the air, mingling with something more primal—the slow hum of anticipation.Sherry sat in the center of the room, wrists bound in silk, the smooth fabric a whisper against her skin. The ties weren’t meant for struggle, but for awareness—of herself, of the watchful presence behind her, and of the woman before her.Bluebeard Lady circled her like a patient instructor, a delicate silver chain swaying between her fingers. “Restraint,” she murmured, “isn’t about holding back. It’s about extending sensation, drawing it out until it becomes something unforgettable.”Sherry swallowed hard, feeling the heat of Dallion’s gaze from his seat across the room. He had yet to speak, but his presence was a force in itself—a quiet command.The woman knelt before Sherry, her fingers ghosting over her skin, feather-light. Even with
Sherryl Rain kept her head low, focusing on the lesson, even though she knew how rare it was for someone of Grace’s status to take the time to educate a mere servant. Most high-ranking figures in the Cross Empire saw little value in teaching those beneath them. Grace glanced at the worn parchment in front of her before turning her cold gaze to Sherryl, the little mouse that belonged to Dallion. “We’ll stop here for today,” Grace decided, stretching as she closed the book. “I need to take my mother and sister out to the Valley. Would you like to come?” The offer sounded casual, but Sherryl could hear the subtle test in it. “Ever been there before?” Sherryl gave a slight nod. “Master Dallion is taking me somewhere today.” A truthful excuse, but also a way to avoid the suffocating tension she’d have to endure with Grace and her ever-judgmental sister. Without pushing for details, Grace dismissed her, and Sherryl exhaled a brea