The sun never truly touched the Sanctuary.
Its ancient stone walls and vine-draped arches basked only in twilight, as though the place lived between worlds—between life and death, past and future. Inside its heart, Seraphine sat in a high-backed velvet chair, her fingers gently gripping the edge of the armrest as Carlos knelt before her.
His pulse beat steadily under her touch.
She pressed her lips softly to his neck, fangs descending as naturally as breath. When she fed, it was careful, restrained—at first. But as the days passed and the unborn child within her grew stronger, its demands became sharper, more ruthless. Normal blood repulsed her. Carlos alone sustained her now.
Today was no different—until it was.
As her lips touched his skin, Seraphine trembled. A storm had begun to build inside her—not just her thirst, but his. Unbeknownst to her, Carlos had long suppressed the side of him that hungered. And now, in the intimacy of their connection, it snapped.
His hand gripped her wrist tightly.
Her eyes widened, but she did not pull away.
He moved too quickly, instincts overpowering his conscience, and before he realized what he was doing—his lips were on her neck, fangs piercing her flesh.
Seraphine gasped softly, but didn't resist.
For a fleeting moment, they were locked in a primal trance—his blood running through her, hers now flowing into him.
But when the hunger finally subsided, when the haze lifted and awareness returned, Carlos staggered back as though burned.
His eyes went wide with horror.
"N-no…" he whispered, falling to his knees. "Seraphine, I didn't mean to—I swear—I lost control, I—"
Seraphine touched her neck, feeling the slight sting, then looked at him with calm, understanding eyes. Her voice was soft, almost too soft. "It's alright."
"No," Carlos said, shaking his head, gripping his chest. "It's not. I fed on you. That's—"
"You think I didn't know?" she asked gently, her eyes glimmering with sadness. "I felt it. And I let you. I understand."
Carlos looked at her in disbelief. "But I could have—"
"You didn't." She knelt beside him, lifting his face to hers. "You've given me so much already. If this is the price… then let me return the favor, even a little."
His chest rose and fell, pain flickering behind his eyes. "The feedings… they're starting to take a toll on me."
"I know," Seraphine whispered. "But I don't have a choice. The baby doesn't want anything else. I tried. You saw it… it rejected the herbs, the blood packs, even Maika's potions."
Carlos nodded, jaw clenched.
He hated feeling needed like this. Not because he didn't care—but because it wasn't him Seraphine wanted. It was his blood. His connection to Alaric, to a time long lost.
And just as he was about to stand, a heavy presence loomed behind them.
"—What the hell is going on here?"
Caveen's voice cracked like a whip.
Carlos turned just in time to see the Lycan prince standing at the archway, his eyes blazing, fangs slightly bared.
Before either of them could explain, Caveen stormed toward Carlos, grabbed his collar, and slammed him hard against the stone wall. Dust shook from the ceiling above.
"You've been feeding on each other?" he snarled. "Do you know what that means?"
"Caveen, stop!" Seraphine rushed to them, but he ignored her.
"I've seen enough vampire rituals to know what feeding like that leads to," Caveen growled. "It binds you. It's not just blood. It's… soul deep. And when Alaric wakes up, he'll tear your throat out."
"She needed me!" Carlos shouted back, pushing against Caveen's grip. "The child inside her—he won't accept anything but my blood!"
"Bullsh*t," Caveen spat. "You tainted her—"
"ENOUGH!"
The commanding voice of Lady Maika cut through the air like a blade.
She stepped into view, eyes glowing with authority, her presence immediately forcing Caveen to release Carlos.
"You fool," Maika said coldly. "If Carlos hadn't offered himself, Seraphine would be dead. Your sister. The child—Alaric's son—would be dead."
Caveen's fists trembled at his sides.
"You think I wanted this?" Carlos rasped, chest heaving. "You think it's easy watching her cry over him every night while I bleed for her every morning?"
Silence.
"Her body rejected every ounce of help we gave," Maika continued. "The child inside her… it's old. Too old. And it craves the one thing that connects him to this world—his own bloodline."
She looked at Carlos with a softened gaze.
"Alaric's blood is dormant. But Carlos carries the trace of that lineage. His aura… is the only thing that keeps Seraphine alive."
From a distance, Seraphine stood frozen behind the archway, having stepped away after the confrontation began.
She had heard it all.
Her hand slowly rose to her lips, and a soft gasp escaped—a sob choking in her throat.
Tainted?
Bound?
Torn between Alaric and Carlos… not by love, but by necessity?
She turned away quietly, steps silent, and disappeared down the hallway.
Back into her chambers.
Back into silence.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, the weight of guilt pressing into her chest. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. She never asked for this. And yet, the truth settled heavy on her shoulders—she was surviving at someone else's cost.
The child within her fluttered—softly, like the brush of wind against silk—and she clutched her stomach, whispering into the quiet.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry Alaric"