Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty
Chapter 123: A Change, He didn’t want to acknowledge

Chapter 123: Chapter 123: A Change, He didn’t want to acknowledge

Dorian gazed at his work—a dark red mark blooming across Cassian’s collarbone. His masterpiece.

His lips curled in satisfaction. "So beautiful," he murmured.

As if to soothe the area, he leaned down once more, this time pressing a soft, lingering peck against the mark.

But it only made Cassian shudder harder.

Cassian’s eyes snapped open.

The realization of what had just happened—of what he had just allowed—came crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

He hurriedly yanked up his tunic, covering the mark as if it would erase the evidence. His face burned, his ears felt hot, and his entire body was trembling—not from pleasure, but from sheer, unbearable mortification.

"You—!" His voice cracked with anger, embarrassment, and something else he did not want to acknowledge.

Dorian merely looked at him with amusement, his smirk never fading.

Cassian had never felt this humiliated in his life.

Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed off, his full speed fueled by nothing but rage and shame.

Dorian watched him go, his golden eyes gleaming with pure bliss.

A dark, knowing smile stretched across his lips as he murmured to himself, "Do more mistakes, Leader Hayes... so I can mark your entire body with my masterpieces."

His voice was low, dripping with devilish amusement.

And the fact was that he had no intention of stopping here.

Cassian hurried inside his room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him as if that alone could keep the shame from following him inside.

His heart was still racing, his face burning, and worst of all—his entire body was tingling from the lingering sensation of Dorian’s touch.

Taking deep, shaky breaths, he quickly strode toward the mirror, his hands fumbling as he pulled down the collar of his tunic.

"Fuck, man." His eyes widened in horror.

There, on the exposed skin of his collarbone, was an unmistakable, glaring mark. A deep, bruised stain of red and purple—far too obvious, far too bold. But what made his breath hitch was not just the size of it.

Two faint, sharp indentations sat at the center of the bruise.

Cassian froze.

For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But when he hesitantly traced his fingers over the mark—

A sharp sting shot through him.

Cassian flinched, his hand recoiling on instinct.

That bastard.

That shameless, insufferable, absolutely detestable bastard.

Not only had Dorian left a mark, but he had actually wounded him. What was he, a wild beast? Did he think Cassian was some chew toy to sink his teeth into?

Cassian wanted to cry, but no tears would come.

Instead, he could only stand there, staring at his reflection in mute horror, his fingers hovering uselessly over the mark. His expression twisted in frustration. He wanted to curse all eighteen generations of that man’s ancestors. Was he born in the year of the dog? Why the hell was he biting people like this?

His teeth clenched.

Now came another problem.

How the hell was he supposed to hide this?

The mark was right there, perfectly visible for anyone to see. No matter how he adjusted his tunic, no matter how he tugged the fabric, it was still noticeable.

Cassian groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

He needed something to hide this. Yeah, preferably, he needed—rouge.

But the thought of it alone made his entire body stiffen.

Did he really have to ask for that?

Heat rushed to his cheeks at the mere idea of it. But he had no choice. If he did not show up at the dining table soon, someone would come looking for him.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian pulled up his tunic as best as he could, covering the mark in a clumsy, desperate manner. Then, forcing himself to move, he stormed out of his room, muttering curses under his breath.

Thankfully, for once, luck seemed to be on his side.

Not far from the hallway, he spotted a young maid carrying a small tray. She looked up at him with a polite smile, bowing respectfully.

Cassian hesitated for a second.

Then, pushing past his embarrassment, he hurriedly approached her.

"Wait," he said, his voice unintentionally sharp from nerves.

The maid blinked in surprise but remained composed. "Yes, my lord?"

Cassian swallowed. His throat was dry. His face was burning.

How was he supposed to ask this?

His fingers twitched, his lips parting slightly before pressing back together. But after a few agonizing seconds of internal struggle, he finally forced the words out.

"Do you... have any rouge?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

The maid’s eyes went wide, her expression frozen in stunned disbelief.

Cassian immediately regretted his existence.

The girl coughed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as if trying to stifle whatever reaction was about to slip out. A second later, she composed herself, her face returning to a more neutral state.

"Yes, my lord," she replied smoothly. "I will get it for you."

Cassian barely managed to nod before he turned on his heel and fled.

The moment he was out of sight, he let out a strangled groan, pressing his palm against his forehead.

He had never been this humiliated in his life.

He wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

He had never been embarrassed this much in his life. He vowed to take revenge for this disgrace and humiliation. How could the City Lord do something so shameful and humiliating to him?

And most of all, Cassian could not allow himself to participate in this willingly. His conscience was against it because he liked only one person in his entire life and was only willing to submit his soul and body to him and no one else.

But today, he felt like his beliefs were shattering, and that he had betrayed himself and the one he loved.

How could he have allowed that bastard to do something like that? And he was more angry at himself for just standing there without protesting.

When did he become like this? He did not know.

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