The vampires never knocked.
The castle's rules were simple: if you had power, you didn't need permission.
Ariana woke slowly, her body curled in the blankets that still smelled of Damien—dark spice, forbidden heat, and danger. But he was gone again.
He always left.
She wasn't sure if that was mercy or torment.
She slipped from the bed and dressed herself in one of the only options the wardrobe had: a sheer lace gown with long sleeves and no back. It clung to her like a second skin. Every mirror had been removed from the chamber, probably because Damien didn't want her seeing what he saw—his possession.
She stepped into the corridor cautiously.
And froze.
Someone else was there.
A woman, waiting for her just beyond the archway.
She was devastatingly beautiful—like something sculpted for sin. Long, dark curls fell over olive skin, and her blood-red gown clung to every wicked curve. Her fangs peeked from the corners of her smirk.
"Going somewhere, little human?"
Ariana didn't answer.
The woman stepped closer. "Let me guess. You're looking for Damien? Of course you are. He has a type, you know. Fragile, wounded, ripe little things with secrets."
Ariana's voice was calm, even. "Who are you?"
The vampire's eyes flashed. "Lilith. I used to be his obsession. Before you."
Ariana didn't flinch. "And now?"
Lilith smiled cruelly. "Now I'm his reminder of what he can have when he gets bored of playing house with a mortal."
She walked past Ariana slowly, brushing her fingers along the lace of Ariana's gown. "You think what you have is special? It's not. Damien takes what he wants. Always has."
"Then why are you still trying to get him back?" Ariana asked coldly.
Lilith laughed—a low, musical sound full of venom. "Oh sweetheart. This isn't about getting him back. It's about reminding you where you stand."
She turned toward the stairs, and Ariana followed—against her better judgment. Her pulse was already pounding.
Down the corridor.
Around the corner.
And into the vampire court's hall.
It was dimly lit, draped in silk and shadows. Music played—something haunting and slow. Vampires lounged on velvet couches, sipping from glasses filled with dark red liquid Ariana didn't want to identify.
And at the center…
Damien.
Sitting on a black throne, legs spread, wine glass in hand. His shirt was open, his chest bare. Relaxed. Dominant. Radiating danger.
And kneeling between his legs…
Lilith.
Her lips were on his neck.
Ariana stopped cold.
Lilith didn't look at her. She ran her tongue slowly along Damien's skin, then licked her lips.
"I missed your taste," she purred.
Damien didn't push her away.
He didn't look at Ariana.
Not yet.
A spike of something sharp and possessive stabbed through Ariana's chest.
Rage. Jealousy. Something raw and ugly.
Lilith turned her head slowly, locking eyes with Ariana. "See?" she whispered. "He always comes back to me."
Ariana didn't speak.
Didn't scream.
She walked forward.
Deliberate. Slow. Controlled.
She stopped right in front of Damien, eyes locked on his.
"You done playing?" she asked.
Damien's jaw flexed. His crimson eyes glittered like dying stars.
"Leave us," he said.
Lilith stood, clearly satisfied. Her lips were stained. Her smile vicious.
She leaned close to Ariana as she passed. "Careful, girl. In this world, love doesn't save you. It gets you killed."
Ariana didn't respond.
She stared at Damien.
"What was that?" she asked, voice low.
"A test," he said.
"Of what?"
"Of you."
She shook her head. "No. You wanted to see if I'd break. If I'd walk away."
"And?"
Ariana stepped closer. Climbed into his lap, straddling him on the throne.
He tensed, surprised.
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
"I'm not walking anywhere," she whispered. "But next time someone touches what's mine, I won't be so polite."
His hands gripped her thighs hard.
"You're dangerous," he said, eyes darkening.
"So make me yours," she challenged. "Or set me free."
He stared at her.
Then stood—lifting her effortlessly.
Carried her from the court, through the halls, back into the shadows.
And this time…
He didn't leave her alone.