Emily stared at the bracelet on her wrist—the one Alexander had locked there as a mark of possession, the same kind of bracelet that had cost Alistair Drake his hand. The metal caught the morning light, Alexander's name gleaming on the inside.
She'd spent two days thinking about Alistair's warning, about the Drake family curse, about how every man who'd tried to possess Eleanor had been destroyed. And she'd come to a conclusion that terrified and exhilarated her in equal measure.
The problem wasn't the obsession. It was the approach.
Every Drake man had tried to possess Eleanor, to control her, to make her submit. And every one had failed because Eleanor Drake wasn't someone who could be possessed—she was someone who possessed others.
But Emily wasn't trying to possess Eleanor. She was trying to claim her place as Alexander's equal. And there was only one way to prove that to the woman who'd destroyed three generations of Drake men.