Chapter 1: The Collar's Curse
Vesper Holloway stormed into the dusty attic of their family’s ancient estate, her rusted-stop-sign hair a wild halo of frizz escaping her ponytail. Freckles dappled her sharp, angular face like a painter’s careless splatter, and her knobby knees knocked against an old trunk as she rummaged through forgotten relics. She’d been hunting for something—anything—to explain the weird vibes she’d been getting from her brother, Dorian, lately. Then she found it: a sleek, obsidian collar with strange runes etched into its surface. It practically hummed with forbidden energy. Against her better judgment, she snapped it around her neck, the cool metal kissing her skin.
Big mistake.
Downstairs, Dorian lounged on the velvet chaise, his Greek-statuesque frame all chiseled marble and effortless arrogance—broad shoulders, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that glinted with something dark. He looked up as Vesper barreled into the room, her sharp elbows flailing.
“What the hell is this thing, Dorian?” she snapped, tugging at the collar. “I put it on, and now it’s stuck. Get it off me, you smug bastard!”
Dorian’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk. “Oh, Vesper, you’ve gone and done it now. That’s no ordinary trinket. It’s a binding collar. And guess who holds the reins?” He twirled a small, rune-carved pendant between his fingers, his voice dripping with mockery. “Me.”
Vesper’s freckled face flushed with stunned outrage, her wiry frame vibrating with fury. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Control? Over me? I’ll rip your pretty little head off before I let you play puppet master, you overgrown Adonis!”
Dorian chuckled, low and dangerous, leaning forward. “Let’s test it, shall we? Vesper, stand still.”
Her body locked up mid-step, her sharp elbows frozen at her sides. Horror widened her eyes as she realized she couldn’t move, couldn’t even twitch. “What the fuck, Dorian? This isn’t funny! Let me go, or I swear I’ll—”
“Strip,” he commanded, his voice a velvet blade.
Vesper’s hands moved on their own, trembling with rage as they yanked at her worn tank top, peeling it over her head. Her knobby knees buckled slightly as her jeans slid down, leaving her in nothing but mismatched underwear. She wanted to scream, to claw his eyes out, but her body betrayed her. Worse, her gaze locked on Dorian as he stood, his presence towering, overwhelming. The collar’s dark magic surged, and her inner thoughts—raw, unfiltered—spilled from her lips against her will.
“Goddamn it, Dorian, you’re so fucking hot it’s criminal. That cock of yours—fuck, it’s huge, isn’t it? I can see the outline through those stupidly tight pants, and I hate how much it’s making me wet just looking at you.” Her voice cracked, mortified, as her mind screamed in protest. “No, no, I didn’t mean to say that! I need to get out of this, I need to—”
Dorian stepped closer, his smirk widening, his eyes glinting with heat. “Oh, Vesper, you’re dripping with honesty now, aren’t you? Don’t fight it. You’re already sweating, panting, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Her chest heaved, fury and unwanted arousal warring in her sharp-angled frame. She glared daggers at him, even as her body trembled under the collar’s influence. “Touch me, and I’ll make sure you regret it, brother or not. I’m not some toy for you to play with!”
But Dorian’s hand was already reaching for her, his fingers brushing the edge of her collar, sending a shiver down her spine. The air between them crackled, thick with tension, as her resolve battled the dark magic—and the undeniable, infuriating heat building in her core. She was horny, against every shred of her will, and the room seemed to close in as his other hand hovered near her hip, promising something explosive if she couldn’t break free in time.
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