Joanne’s POV
“Joanne is my personal blood slave.”
Alexander’s words echoed in my head even after we left the slaves’ quarters. The palace corridors blurred past in streaks of torchlight and stone. I could hardly breathe, let alone protest as Alexander carried me away from the blood slaves. His grip was iron, his stride unhurried but full of purpose, like nothing in the world could stop him.
“You should never have left,” he said as soon as we reached his chambers and the door shut behind us.
My throat closed.
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” His tone sharpened. “One command, Joannne. Stay. And you disobeyed.”
Heat stung the backs of my eyes. Old instincts rose fast—make yourself small, bow your head, survive.
He set me down, and I could see the frustration clear on his face as he ran
