Chapter 1: The Collar's Curse
Vesper Holloway stormed into the cluttered attic of their family’s ancient estate, her wiry, electric hair escaping its messy ponytail as she rifled through a dusty trunk. Her sharp elbows jabbed at the air, her freckled nose wrinkling at the musty smell. She’d been hunting for relics of their late grandmother’s rumored occult collection, something to prove the old bat wasn’t just a nutcase. That’s when she found it—a sleek, obsidian collar with strange, etched runes. Without a second thought, she snapped it around her neck, the cool metal kissing her skin. A perfect fit.
'Nice. A goth choker. Grandma had taste,' she muttered, smirking at her reflection in a cracked mirror.
Footsteps creaked behind her. She spun around to see her brother, Dorian, leaning against the doorway. At six-foot-four, he was a Greek statue come to life—broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and a smirk that could melt steel. Vesper rolled her eyes. 'What do you want, Adonis? I’m busy playing Indiana Jones up here.'
Dorian’s dark eyes glinted with something dangerous as they fixed on the collar. 'You shouldn’t have put that on, Ves. You have no idea what it does.'
Her freckled brow arched. 'Oh, enlighten me, wise one. Is it cursed? Am I gonna turn into a toad?' She struck a dramatic pose, all angles and sarcasm.
His smirk widened. 'It’s a binding relic. And I’m the one who controls it. Let’s test it, shall we? Stand still.'
Vesper’s snarky retort died in her throat as her body locked in place, her knobby knees refusing to budge. Her eyes widened, horror creeping up her spine. 'What the actual fuck, Dorian? Undo this shit right now!'
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his voice a low purr. 'I don’t think so. I’ve got plans for you, sis. Strip.'
Her heart slammed against her ribcage as her hands—against every shred of her will—moved to the hem of her tank top. She yanked it over her head, revealing the freckles dusting her collarbone, her sharp frame trembling with rage. 'You sick bastard! I’m gonna rip your damn throat out when I get free!' she snarled, even as her fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans.
Dorian watched, unblinking, his gaze hot and heavy. 'Keep talking, Ves. I like the fight in you.'
Her jeans hit the floor, leaving her in mismatched underwear, her wiry frame exposed. She wanted to scream, to claw his eyes out, but then the collar pulsed, and words she never meant to say tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. 'Goddamn it, Dorian, you’re so fucking hot it’s criminal. That cock of yours—fuck, it’s gotta be huge. I can’t even—' She clamped her mouth shut, mortified, her face burning as red as her hair. Inside, she was screaming to escape, to smash the collar into a million pieces, but her body wouldn’t obey.
Dorian chuckled, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. 'Oh, Ves, you’ve got no idea how hard I’m getting just hearing that. Keep going. Tell me how much you want it.'
Her mind rebelled, but her body was a traitor, heat pooling low in her belly as she glared daggers at him. 'I’m gonna kill you for this,' she spat, even as her voice trembled with something dangerously close to desire. The attic air was thick, charged, and as Dorian’s hand brushed her bare shoulder, she knew they were teetering on the edge of something explosive.
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