THE BLASTED CONTRACT COIN BOOK 1

CHAPTER 30 UNBREAKABLE BOND

POV Jasmine

Last night, I had gone back to my private rooms in the city. I'd spent the entire night asking around about blood contracts and soul weaving, pulling ancient, restricted books from every hidden library I could leverage, and even more delivered to me by trusted couriers under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, sheer exhaustion claimed me, and I fell into a restless sleep. But it didn't last long. I woke to the sound of a distant, muffled moan and the rhythmic, familiar creak of floorboards from the room next door. In any other house, it would be considered a disruption; in one of my pleasure houses, it was a lullaby.

I loved the sound of desire, the heavy, desperate heat of it. It was the premier currency I traded in, the empire I had built out of the very things that used to terrify me as a child.

I checked my vanity mirror, smoothing a stray lock of dark, honeyed hair. Under normal circumstances, I avoided the Main House for long stretches. My Pheromone Weave was like a potent scent easily caught in a high breeze; it was difficult to fully suppress, and even when I pulled the threads tight against my skin, it tended to leak.

In the city, the consequences of a minor leak weren't devastating. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed watching men and women trip over their own feet in the streets just to catch a passing whiff of me.

But in our house? I didn't want that kind of power to affect my family.

Fortunately, even if my aura slipped, only some of my siblings were susceptible. Alistair was an immovable mountain; his own dense Authority simply crushed my power before it could ever reach his mind.

Gideon was a complete mystery; his mind was always too occupied with his own brand of beautiful, self-inflicted agony to find any room for lust. Poppy was usually too high on her own alchemical fumes to notice mine. And then there was Mercy, who structurally couldn't be affected by anything or anyone. Lastly, there was Dante, whose brain was wired very differently and didn't register regular stimuli; my aura did affect him, but for him, it manifested entirely as a sudden headache and intense nausea.

I leaned closer to the mirror, my chest tightening with a phantom memory. I remembered being a little girl, hiding in the deepest, darkest woods because my untamed scent drove ordinary people into a mindless, ravaging frenzy. I had been a cornered animal, terrified of the world.

Then came Alistair. He had walked right up to me, his eyes cold and clear, entirely unaffected. Then I'd met Gideon and Mercy. For the first time in my existence, I had been surrounded by people who didn't want to claim me, change me, or ravage me. They just wanted me around because they like me and I was family.

Lucian and Vane had been harder; they were highly susceptible to my weave as teenagers, and it had taken years of Alistair's heavy, anchoring hand to assist in their restraint until I could learn to master my output.

Because of this family, I was freed. I didn't have to beg for my life anymore; I made the world beg for me. I owed them absolutely everything, which meant I owed Mercy a clean way out of this contract coin nightmare.

I dressed in a sharp, professional suit of deep emerald silk, meticulously tailored with a neckline low enough to remind everyone in the room that I was female. Gathering my heavy research texts in tow, I made my way back to the Main House.

When I walked into Alistair's office, the ambient atmosphere was devastatingly thick. The report of the cellar crisis had pushed everyone to their absolute limits. Lucian had entirely lost control over his shadows; he was completely invisible. Poppy had chewed her fingernails until they were actively bleeding, and the twins looked entirely frantic. Their weaves were clearly slipping, evidenced by the sharp, pained lines on Sterling's face and Caspian's eyes glazing a milky, volatile white intermittently.

After our grim strategic chat regarding the cosmic ledger, Alistair concluded the meeting, and we all headed down to the dining room. It was one of our favorite places to gather, specifically outfitted with custom, high-tier lighting designed to emit a specific frequency that made it easier for Lucian to wrestle his rogue shadows back under his cloak.

The moment the light hit him, Lucian re-materialized, immediately massaging his bruised, swollen jaw.

"Stop being a baby, Lucy. Drink the thing and get it over with," Vane teased from the edge of the long table.

Lucian glared daggers over at him but reluctantly grabbed the pewter cup Poppy had set out for him. We all recognized that particular brew. It was a specialized, volatile syrup designed to completely regrow lost teeth. Saffron's magic was far better at fixing structural damage than regrowing bone from scratch, so she and Poppy had engineered this alchemical substitute. The only drawback was that it tasted absolutely foul.

"If that parasitic rat mentions going on a 'date' with Mercy one more time, I'll gladly lose a second tooth just for the pleasure of shattering his," Lucian grumbled, his voice thick before he took his first massive gulp, grimacing violently as the syrup went down.

"A date," I whispered.

The word sparked like a burning fuse in my brain. The ancient texts on soul-ledgers, Jasmine's rules of transaction, the need for satisfaction, it all collided into a single, flawless blueprint.

"Yes! That's exactly it!" I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the back of a chair.

The entire room went dead silent. Alistair looked up from the head of the table, his dark gaze heavy and evaluating.

"Explain, Jasmine," Alistair commanded, waving a hand to indicate the entire table. All ten of us were gathered, save for Gideon, who was still down below maintaining the watch.

"Forced Proximity doesn't have to mean keeping him in a nicer cage," I said, actively pacing the length of the expensive rug. "If we need to tip the cosmic scales of that coin, Mercy needs to take him out. Not as a handler moving a prisoner, but as an experience. A date. She provides the absolute safety, the entertainment, the fine dining. She acts as his grand benefactor in the Upper Circle. Think about the mechanics! It's the ultimate credit. She grants him a night of absolute pleasures and treasures; it could very well balance the debt entirely."

Alistair tapped a slow, rhythmic finger against the mahogany table, his analytical mind tracking the variables.

"An intentional, uninterrupted cycle of care from start to finish," Alistair murmured, his approval manifesting as a subtle settling of the air. "It is a high-level transaction. If she can manage the interpersonal logistics without accidentally executing him, it is undoubtedly the heaviest 'credit' we can manufactured for now."

"I'll take the lead on this," I said, a predatory, victorious smile stretching my lips. "Step one: get that creature out of the dungeon. He needs a rigorous shave, a hot shower, and a tailored suit that costs significantly more than his entire miserable life. If he's going to be seen on Mercy's arm in the Upper Circle, he needs to look like he belongs there."

I turned toward the double doors, my heels clicking with sharp, unyielding purpose against the floorboards.

"And Mercy needs to look like the woman who owns him. I'll handle the aesthetic design. Lucian, stop grumbling and help us drag the rat up to the communal baths. Vane, Alistair, I need you to reserve a high-end restaurant; buy out the entire venue for the evening and ensure only our trusted people are working the staff. I want something entirely private, secure, and traditionally romantic for them but also a fun evening out for the entire Family. Twins, secure the transport to get us there. Dante, Saffron, I don't want anyone ruining our sister's night by taking an opportunistic shot at us, so secure the entire perimeter. We have work to do, people."