The road to Hollow Bastion was long and haunted.
They rode at dusk, the dying sun bleeding over the horizon as the cursed lands swallowed the light. The air was thick with silence, and the trees twisted in on themselves like they were trying to escape the soil.
Ariana gripped the reins of her horse tightly. Damien rode ahead, his cloak billowing behind him like wings. They hadn't spoken much since dawn. He hadn't touched her, hadn't kissed her since the promise he made the night before.
But she felt him. Every step. Every breath. Like heat crawling across her skin.
He was letting her lead—technically.
But he was still watching her.
Every heartbeat.
Every glance.
---
They passed through the ruins of Varn Hollow by twilight.
Once a vampire stronghold, now a ghost city. The walls were blackened by ancient fire, and the bones of the fallen still lined the roads. The crows didn't come here. Not even the scavengers.
Only whispers.
Ariana touched one of the cracked statues at the city's heart—an ancient vampire queen, her face carved in agony.
"She burned them all," Damien said behind her.
She turned.
"Who?"
"Queen Seraphine. She tried to steal the blood-bond from her mate. Failed. When he chose another… she turned her whole city to ash."
Ariana looked into the statue's eyes.
"How far will you go for me, Damien?"
He stepped closer, his voice low.
"To the end of every kingdom. To the heart of death. Wherever you walk—I'll follow."
She swallowed.
"You didn't ask if I'd do the same."
He leaned in.
"I already know."
---
Later that night
They camped at the edge of the ruins.
The fire crackled low. Ariana was wrapped in a cloak, staring into the flames. Damien sat nearby, sharpening a blade that didn't need sharpening. Just for something to do. Just to not look at her.
But he felt her watching.
Always.
"Do you ever regret it?" she asked quietly.
"Regret what?"
"Taking me. Marking me. All of it."
He stopped.
Then turned, eyes burning.
> "Every second you weren't mine… was regret."
She stood.
The cloak slipped from her shoulders.
The firelight kissed every inch of her skin.
Damien stood without thinking.
And suddenly—there was no space between them.
No silence.
Just heat. Breath. Hunger.
---
His hands gripped her waist as she climbed into his lap, straddling him by the fire. Her nails dragged across his chest, and he growled low, fangs aching with restraint.
"I can't hold back out here," he warned, voice strained.
"I don't want you to," she whispered, lips brushing his.
He kissed her then—hard, deep, bruising. A desperate promise. Her body arched against his, and he ripped the last layer of clothing from her without hesitation.
She gasped as the cold air hit her skin—but the fire between them was hotter.
He laid her back on his cloak, his mouth trailing down her throat, across the mark he gave her, lower still—
Until she was trembling beneath him, every nerve lit.
She pulled at his belt, eyes wild.
"I need you inside me, Damien."
And when he entered her, the world melted.
There were no ghosts.
No war.
No blood.
Just this.
Just them.
---
Later, she lay on his chest, still shaking.
His arms wrapped around her like chains.
"I'm not afraid," she whispered.
"You should be," he murmured.
Then he added, softer—
"Because the deeper you crawl into my soul… the more I'll destroy to keep you."
She looked up.
"You're not the only one willing to burn for love, Damien."