They told me not to come here.
Whispers in taverns, old women gripping rosaries, men who glanced over their shoulders before speaking his name.
Lord Kael Thorne.
The vampire who disappeared a century ago. A creature of rumor and power, cloaked in legend and fear. They said his estate swallowed women whole. That once you crossed the threshold of Blackthorn Manor, the only way you left was as ash or bound in silk and silence.
And yet, I came.
Because I was summoned. Because part of me some broken, reckless part wanted to know if the stories were true.
The manor's gates opened at my approach, silent and fluid as breath. The ride through the mist-choked forest left my skin cold and my senses humming. When the carriage stopped before the towering estate, no one greeted me.
Only the door creaked open… inviting me in.
I hesitated, heart pounding.
Then I stepped into the dark.
The warmth hit first unexpected and lush, like walking into breath. The scent followed: old paper, roses, and something metallic that curled in my sinuses like smoke. The door shut behind me with a thud that made me jump.
And then I saw him.
At the top of the sweeping staircase, he stood like a vision cut from velvet and bone. Tall, impossibly still, dressed in black so deep it swallowed the candlelight.
"Seraphina Vale," he said, his voice the sound of slow destruction. "You came."
I didn't respond. My mouth was too dry, my body too aware of his eyes amber-red, inhuman, and hungry.
He began descending the stairs with the poise of a dancer or a predator. Each step echoed like a heartbeat.
"I was summoned," I managed, clutching my satchel tighter. "For healing. That was the request."
His mouth curved in a half-smile. "I requested nothing. I commanded. And you obeyed."
"I'm not here to play your games."
"Then you'll leave disappointed. Everything here is a game, little healer."
He reached the final step and stood before me, taller than I expected, more beautiful than I wanted him to be. Moon-pale skin, high cheekbones, lips that looked far too cruel to kiss and yet, gods help me, I imagined them on my throat.
"Are you going to keep me standing like a beggar?" I asked, lifting my chin.
"You're no beggar. Beggars plead. You came to offer yourself without knowing why. That makes you… interesting."
"I'm here for work, not to entertain you."
A slow laugh escaped him. "Oh, Seraphina. You have no idea what you're here for."
He stepped closer, and I could feel the chill radiating from him. He didn't touch me. Not yet. Just circled me like a shadow made flesh. Every inch of me tensed beneath his scrutiny.
Then, finally, his fingers brushed a strand of damp hair from my cheek. Cold. Elegant. Deliberate.
"I want you to understand something," he murmured, voice like silk dragged over blades. "You were not invited here. You were called. There is a difference."
"And what is it you called me for?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth. I didn't move.
"For your blood," he said softly. "Your defiance. Your surrender."
"I won't give you any of it."
A flicker of amusement danced across his face. "Then I'll enjoy taking it."
I moved before I thought—hand flying, palm cracking against his cheek. The sound rang through the vast hall. My breath hitched.
His face turned, more in surprise than pain. And then he smiled.
"Still got fire," he said, touching the faint red mark on his cheek. "Good."
"Go to hell," I snapped.
"Darling," he murmured, leaning in so close I could feel the icy whisper of his breath, "I brought hell with me."
His hand moved with lethal speed, closing around my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm. He raised my hand to his mouth, eyes locked on mine, and pressed a kiss to the skin just below my thumb. His lips were cool, but the heat that followed pulsed all the way down to my core.
My pulse thudded against his mouth. He felt it. Smiled wider.
"You want me to touch you," he whispered. "You hate that you want it."
"I don't."
He licked the pulse point gently. "Lie to me again. I dare you."
I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not painfully but possessively. He leaned in, brushing his mouth along my jaw, down to my neck. My breath caught as his teeth grazed skin.
Then he let go.
I stumbled back, heart racing, thighs slick. He watched me with something dark and feral glowing in his eyes.
"That's your first lesson," he said. "Fear is foreplay."
And then he was gone. One blink, and he vanished into the shadows like smoke.
The room felt colder without him. Or maybe I was just trembling.
I should have left then. Packed my bag, demanded the driver take me back to the city. But I didn't. I stood there, breathless, wet in ways I refused to acknowledge, staring at the space he had been.
And I knew I was already his.
I didn't move.
Not at first.
The room was still, too still. It felt like the air itself was waiting for something waiting for me to do something, anything. But I stood frozen, heart pounding, and my body trembling in the absence of his presence.
He had left, and yet his touch lingered. My pulse echoed in my ears, a steady, furious rhythm that drowned out everything else. Every inch of my skin burned, the faintest trace of his cold fingers still searing into me. The taste of him was on the tip of my tongue, that unearthly coolness, that sharp edge of hunger.
I didn't know why I stayed. Maybe I was afraid of leaving. Maybe I wanted more of what he offered.
Or maybe I was already lost.
The silence in the room stretched long, taut as a bowstring. But I couldn't stay still for long. I turned sharply, pacing the length of the grand hallway. I tried to shake the feeling of his eyes on me, of the power he exuded even from a distance. I wanted to scream, to shout at the world, to claw away the knot of longing that burned inside me. But I couldn't. It wasn't just desire it was a strange, sickened obsession. A need I didn't know how to quell.
The walls around me loomed, carved from ancient stone and wrapped in the scent of blood and roses. I could feel his presence everywhere, like a shadow I couldn't escape. Each step seemed to echo, pulling me further into his trap. The house itself seemed alive, shifting in ways I couldn't explain, as though it too was waiting.
Waiting for him.
The door at the far end of the hall opened with a creak, the softest invitation.
I couldn't resist.
I moved toward it, each step measured, even though my heart raced. I entered a large room no, it was more of a chamber, with high ceilings and thick drapes hanging like heavy curtains of night. A fireplace flickered with orange flames, casting fleeting shadows across the floor.
There, standing near the hearth, was Kael.
He had returned, silently, without a sound, his silhouette framed by the flames. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, the only sign of the creature he was. His gaze locked onto mine, predatory, unyielding.
"Did you think you could escape me?" he asked, his voice a low, almost sensual growl. The weight of his words hung in the air between us, thick with meaning.
"I wasn't trying to escape you," I replied, my voice betraying me. It was too soft, too breathless. "I was trying to make sense of what just happened."
He took a step forward, and another, moving with the grace of a panther—every movement controlled, deliberate, as if he were savoring the hunt. I felt a tremor run through me, not from fear, but from the intensity of his presence.
"You can't make sense of something that isn't meant to be understood, Seraphina," he said, his voice thick with that same dark amusement. "You've been chosen for this. Whether you accept it or not."
"Chosen?" My mouth felt dry as I spoke. "Chosen for what?"
His lips curled, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down my spine. "Chosen to be mine."
The room seemed to shrink, the air growing heavier as he advanced, the temperature dropping with every step he took. I wanted to back away, but I couldn't. His gaze held me captive, locking me in place, making my pulse race as if his very presence was a drug I couldn't resist.
"You think you can resist me?" Kael's voice was low, almost mocking, as he stood just a few feet away from me now. "You think you can fight it?"
"I I'm not some toy for you to play with," I managed, trying to gather my strength. My hands clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the chill of his body, the unnatural cold that radiated from him like an icy storm.
"You're not a toy," he said, voice dangerously soft. "You're something far more precious. You're mine."
Before I could respond, his hand shot out, catching me by the throat with lightning speed. His fingers were cold, but the pressure was not painful just enough to remind me of his power, to make my breath catch in my chest.
I stared up at him, defiant yet trembling, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes, something almost. human. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"You belong to me now," he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. His breath was cold, sending a tremor through my body.
"Let go of me," I managed to rasp, even as my pulse hammered in my throat.
"You think I'll just let you go?" He chuckled, a dark, guttural sound. "You think you have any choice in this, little healer?"
He squeezed just slightly, enough to make my vision blur, and I gasped. My body reacted before I could even think heat blossomed between my thighs, a deep, insistent need that I hated myself for.
Kael's lips curled into a smile as if he could sense it, as if he could taste it. "You can fight it all you want. But I will have you. I will own you. Your body, your soul. There is nothing you can do to stop me."
I stared at him, my chest heaving as his words sunk deep into me. There was no escape from him, no way to avoid this. I wanted to pull away, to flee from this twisted, dangerous game, but I couldn't. My body betrayed me. I wanted him.
He saw it.
And he smirked, knowing he had already won.
"Good girl," he whispered, releasing his grip on my throat. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I stumbled backward, my knees weak.
But he didn't let me go. Not fully. His hand slid to my wrist, pulling me back against him with impossible strength.
"You'll come to me, eventually," he said, his lips brushing the curve of my neck. "When you finally u
nderstand that this hunger, this need... it's as much a part of you as it is of me."
I closed my eyes, unable to deny the truth in his words. I was already too far gone.