Bound By His Curse

CHAPTER 2

SERAPHINA POV;

Three days locked in the dark tower had left me weak, my clothes rumpled, my skin pale and marked by cold. But the moment I stepped out, there was no time to rest, no time to even catch my breath. Servants were already waiting, rushing me to the master suite to bathe, dress, and prepare—for the wedding was only two days away, and everything had been arranged long before I’d even known I was the chosen one.

Arabella was the first person I saw when I entered the dressing room. She stood before a full-length mirror, turning this way and that in a silk robe, her face twisted with a mix of rage and disbelief. The moment she caught sight of me, she whirled around, eyes blazing, and crossed the room in three sharp steps, grabbing my arm hard enough to leave bruises.

“You,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous, no trace of her sweet, charming mask left. “You stole this from me. My marriage. My future. Him. I have loved Cassian Valemont for years. I was trained to be his wife. I was the one everyone said was perfect for him. And you—you, the quiet little mouse no one even notices—you just walked in and took it, didn’t you?”

I flinched, pulling my arm free, my voice small and tired. “I didn’t choose this, Arabella. You know I didn’t. Father decided—”

“Lies!” She cut me off, shoving me back against the wall. “You always wanted what I had, didn’t you? You always hated that I was the favorite, that I was beautiful, that I was loved. Well, listen to me carefully, little sister. You may be marrying him, but you will never be worthy of him. You will never be enough for him. And I will make sure you regret every single second of it. I will take everything you have, just like you took what was mine.”

She turned and stormed out before I could reply, leaving me trembling, tears burning my eyes. I had never wanted any of this. I would have given anything to trade places with her, to go back to being invisible and ignored, if only it meant I didn’t have to marry the man everyone called a monster.

The next two days passed in a blur. I was measured, fitted, styled, and painted like a doll—quiet, obedient, exactly what Father had ordered. My wedding dress was simple white silk, no lace, no embroidery, no jewels; plain and modest, designed to make me fade into the background, while Arabella, as maid of honor, wore a pale blue gown that shimmered like starlight, drawing every eye in the room. She had made sure of that, of course.

I caught one glimpse of Vince before the ceremony, hiding in the shadows of the church entrance. His face was pale, his eyes red and raw, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He tried to step forward, to reach for me, but the guards flanking me blocked his way.

“Seraphina, please,” he called out, voice cracking with desperation. “It’s not too late. I have the car ready, the money, everything. We can leave right now. Please—don’t do this. Don’t marry him. I can save you.”

I shook my head, biting my lip hard to stop myself from crying. I wanted nothing more than to run to him, to take his hand and never look back. But I knew what would happen if I did. Mother would die. Vince and his family would be ruined. And Cassian Valemont—ruthless, powerful, dangerous Cassian—would hunt us down and make us pay.

“Go home, Vince,” I whispered, turning away so he wouldn’t see my tears. “Forget me. Live a good life. That’s all I ask.”

I walked into the church, my head held high, even as my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

And then I saw him.

Cassian Valemont stood at the altar, tall, broad-shouldered, radiating power and coldness that made the whole room feel frozen. He was even more terrifyingly handsome than his photos: sharp, perfect features, jet-black hair swept back, eyes so dark they looked like endless voids, and a jawline that could cut glass. He wore a tailored black suit that fit him like a second skin, every inch of him polished, wealthy, and untouchable.

But as I walked closer, I noticed something else. Something no one else seemed to see. His hands were clenched tight at his sides, knuckles white, and his jaw was set so hard it looked painful. Every few seconds, a faint wince crossed his face, gone so fast I almost thought I imagined it. He looked like a man in constant, quiet agony—like he was fighting a war only he could feel.

When I stood beside him, he didn’t look at me. Not once. He stared straight ahead, his voice deep, cold, and flat when the priest asked for his vows.

“I take you, Seraphina De Lune, as my wife,” he said, no warmth, no promise, no emotion at all. “This union is bound by contract, not love. It will last one year, and one year only. After that, we part ways.”

My breath caught. Contract marriage. I had suspected, but hearing it said out loud made it feel even colder, even more like a business deal.

When it was my turn, I repeated the words, my voice shaking so much I could barely be heard. I was nothing more than a signature on a piece of paper, a pawn traded between two powerful men.

After the ceremony, there was no reception, no celebration, no kiss. Cassian turned and walked straight out of the church, and I followed him silently to his long, sleek black car. He sat as far away from me as possible, typing furiously on his phone, never once glancing in my direction. The whole ride to his mansion was filled with heavy, suffocating silence.

The Valemont estate sat high on a hill, overlooking the whole city—massive, grand, made of white stone and glass, beautiful but cold, lifeless. No flowers, no children playing, no warmth anywhere. It looked exactly like the man who owned it: perfect, powerful, and completely empty.

He led me to a large, separate wing of the house, far away from his own rooms and offices, then closed the door and turned to face me for the first time. His dark eyes bored into mine, sharp and unforgiving, as he laid out his rules.

“Listen closely, Seraphina. We are strangers, and we will remain strangers. You live here, in this wing. I live in mine. You never enter my private rooms, my office, or my study. You never touch my things, read my papers, or ask about my life, my work, or my health. My business is none of your concern, and yours is none of mine.”

He paused, his voice dropping lower, colder, sending shivers down my spine.

“We will appear together at public events to keep up appearances. That is your only job. Be quiet. Be obedient. Stay out of my way. Do not cause trouble. Do not ask for anything. And do not expect anything. In one year, the contract ends, your family’s debts are cleared, your mother’s medical care is secured, and you leave with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yes, Mr. Valemont. I understand.”

He turned to leave, but as he moved, he stumbled slightly, grabbing the doorframe hard, his face twisting in sudden, sharp pain. A low, ragged breath escaped him, and for a second, the cold mask slipped, revealing raw, burning agony beneath.

Without thinking, I stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm gently. “Are you—”

The moment my skin made contact with his, something strange happened.

His whole body went rigid. The pain vanished instantly from his face, replaced by shock. His dark eyes snapped to mine, wide and disbelieving, staring at me like he was seeing a ghost, like he couldn’t understand what had just happened.

He ripped his arm away as if I had burned him, stepping back fast, his expression turning cold and guarded again, faster than I could follow.

“Don’t ever touch me,” he snapped, voice harsh and sharp. Then he turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook, leaving me alone, confused and breathless.

I stood there, staring at the closed door, my hand still tingling where I had touched him. I didn’t know what I had done. I didn’t know why his pain had disappeared the second I touched him.

But I knew one thing for certain: there was far more to Cassian Valemont than anyone knew. The rumors of a curse were not just stories. And somehow, I was tied to it in a way I never could have imagined.