Zareth's fingers curled possessively around Serenya's delicate hand, his grasp firm yet unnervingly calm. The dim sunlight reflected off his crimson eyes as he turned to her, fangs peeking subtly through the smirk on his face.
"On second thought," he drawled, voice a velvet thread laced with menace, "I think it's best we return quickly. The earlier, the better."
His tongue flicked out, running over the sharp points of his fangs before they retreated. Serenya's breath hitched, her lips parting to say something, anything.
"What about the carriage?" she asked, her voice small. "I mean, it would be strange if we just vanished from here without it." Zareth gaze just bore into hers , then, almost too quickly, she corrected herself, her eyes darting to meet his gaze. "Or not. I'm sure no one would dare question the Emperor."
Zareth raised a single brow, amusement flickering in his eyes. He didn't need to respond. That look alone said it all. With an effortless tug, he pulled her flush against him. Serenya instinctively clutched at his shirt, her fingers digging into the fabric. Her pulse was thudding so loudly she could hear it.
Zareth smirked, relishing the feel of her holding onto him without being told. He whispered lowly against her temple, "Hold on tight."
The world warped. Shadows curled in, light bending and spinning. When Serenya opened her eyes, she staggered, the sudden change disorienting. The rich, dark scent of polished oak and warm incense wrapped around her. They were back in his bedroom.
Zareth stepped away casually, letting her regain her balance. Serenya quickly put distance between them, pressing a hand to her chest as she inhaled.
He moved with quiet confidence, his robe dragging behind him as he approached the small bar near the hearth. Uncorking a glass bottle, he poured the crimson liquid—wine or... something else—into a crystal glass. He took a slow sip, watching her over the rim with a lazy, dangerous glint in his eyes.
His hair was tousled from the breeze, several dark strands falling over one eye, enhancing the unholy beauty of his face. "Make yourself comfortable, Serenya," he said, voice low and smooth. "You'll pass out if you stand there any longer."
She quickly shook her head waving her hand. "I'm perfectly fine standing."
Zareth didn't argue. He turned away, removing his robe with a smooth motion that revealed the lean strength of his form beneath. Serenya flushed, turning her gaze immediately as her heartbeat increased.
"I think... I think I should leave now. You need rest after the long ride," she mumbled, stumbling over her words.
She turned for the door, her steps hurried. But before she could lay her hand on the handle, he was there. Inhumanly fast, his body now between her and the exit. One hand pressed over hers on the door while the other caged her in.
"Are you trying to escape punishment?" Zareth murmured, his breath brushing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her face turned bright red as heat bloomed over her cheeks. She could barely breathe.
Before she could respond, he flipped her gently but firmly, her back now against the door, his tall frame looming over her. The scent of him—dark, rich, and intoxicating—wrapped around her.
"I'm tired and I want to rest," she stammered. Zareth leaned closer. "Of course you are. After trying to run, exhaustion is a given."
Serenya's heart pounded so hard she thought it might leap from her chest. His thumb brushed against her cheek, his eyes boring into hers.
"What do you think your punishment should be?" he whispered, every word rolling off his tongue like a threat and a promise. "I-I can wipe all the floors in the castle," she blurted.
He snorted, genuinely amused. "Nonsense. That's the job of servants. You will not be degraded like that."
One hand remained caged beside her head, the other brushed over her throat, sending chills down her spine. She could feel the heat radiating from his palm and the tremor it caused in her.
Desperate, she tried again. "I could... knit you a sweater? Three even!" . Zareth chuckled. A deep, low sound that vibrated through her. "My little dove, I have a royal tailor for that."
Then he leaned down, brushing his lips close to her ear. "I want to have you," he murmured against her skin. Her breath caught painfully in her chest.
"I'm not ready," she said quickly, her voice small and frightened. Zareth's hands moved to her waist, steady and firm. He leaned back just enough to look into her wide eyes.
"You don't have to be," he whispered. "Because I am." Serenya's mind spun conjuring something to say .
"I-I'm on my period!" she blurted her face red as she looked away. The silence was deafening. Then Zareth's smirk returned, darker than before.
"Don't worry. I don't mind the sight of blood."
Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with disbelief. ' He can't be serious!'. Clenching her hands she muttered, "Zareth, please... I'm not ready."
Her voice cracked, desperation pooling in her tone. She was trembling now, and he could feel it under his touch. His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his expression unreadable.
"Ready for what, exactly?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "For what you think I'm going to do, or for what you want me to do?"
His face inched closer until only breath separated them. Serenya turned her face to the side, trying not to breathe in the addictive scent of him. He smelled like danger and desire.
"F-for what you're saying," she managed before she might pass out due to lack of oxygen!. He pulled back slightly, a crooked grin forming.
"Oh my sweet little dove... I was talking about drinking your blood. What were you thinking? How naughty."
Serenya exhaled sharply in relief, her legs nearly giving out. But her heart froze when she processed what he had just said.
"Y-you want my blood? But... I'm sure there are plenty of palace women who..."
"I do have them," he interrupted smoothly. "But I want yours." He leaned forward again, lips ghosting over her cheek.
"And remember, this is your punishment. So tell me, Serenya, would you prefer it on the bed... or right here behind the door?"
Her lips parted, no words coming out. His grip tightened slightly on her waist, a silent reminder that hesitation wasn't an option.
"All this wouldn't have happened if—". She paused as the pressure on her waist increased.
Panic set in.
"Bed," she squeaked, eyes wide with embarrassment and dread. Oh heavens, what did she just agree to?.
Zareth's smile turned crooked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Excellent choice," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.