Serenya's bare feet padded softly across the polished marble floor, the coldness of it seeping through her skin and rising into her chest. Her steps faltered when her gaze lingered on the tall black doors that led into Zareth's chamber. Something inside her twisted painfully at the thought of him being angry with her. It wasn't supposed to matter—why should she care if a domineering vampire was displeased? And yet, her chest ached with a dull sting she couldn't deny.
Her hand hovered over her heart, fingers curling into a loose fist as she forced herself forward and into her own chambers.
Three servants lingered inside, as always—quiet shadows who kept her space pristine and her bed always made as though she never left it. Serenya said nothing as they bowed and began to ready her for the night. Two of them helped her out of her gown, sliding her arms through the silk of her nightdress. Their movements were practiced, silent, reverent even. Candles were pinched out one by one until the chamber glowed faintly with only the light of the moon spilling through the windows.
When they retreated, the silence grew suffocating. Serenya lay in bed staring at the ceiling, but her mind whirled restlessly. Hours passed—or perhaps only minutes—before her eyes fluttered open again. Sleep refused her. Her heart thudded with a strange restlessness, her gaze constantly straying to her door as if… as if she expected Zareth to appear, looming as he always did with that infuriating crooked smile.
"No… not because I'm worried," she whispered to herself, shaking her head, heat rising to her cheeks. "It's just because I can't sleep."
But she didn't believe her own words.
Biting her lip, she slid from the bed. The cool air wrapped around her like a cloak as she padded toward her door, hesitating, her palm hovering against the wood. Was he awake? Would he laugh if he found her here like a fool?
Meanwhile, across the hall, Zareth stood before his mirror, the darkness of his chamber wrapped tightly around him like a second skin. His crimson eyes deepened, fangs elongating as a fresh wave of heat spread through his veins. Black threads marred the pale expanse of his skin, pulsing, creeping, suffocating. His senses sharpened dangerously.
He heard her.
The soft shuffle of bare feet from the opposite chamber. The slight intake of breath as she paused by his door. The hesitation of her fingers curling against the wood.
Zareth closed his eyes, and his fangs retracted, retreating slowly into his gums. He raked a hand through his dark hair, steadying himself, before he stepped forward and unlatched the door.
The hinges groaned softly, and there she was. Serenya stood in her thin nightdress, pale under the wash of moonlight, her hand half-raised as if she had been about to knock. Her lips parted in surprise, caught between courage and shame.
"I–I was just… I mean…" Her voice faltered, and she glanced back toward her own chamber. "I was about to return."
The darkness within his room cloaked him entirely, leaving only the gleam of his red eyes visible. She swallowed hard under their weight.
A slow, crooked smile unfurled on his lips. His voice came low, dangerous, edged with a mocking sweetness.
"Of course you were. Yet somehow your innocent little feet carried you here, outside my door, instead of staying obediently in your own bed."
He opened the door wider, his tone dripping with dangerous amusement.
"Come in, little dove. But don't expect me to promise I won't bite."
Serenya's cheeks burned at the implication. Entering a man's chamber at night—worse, this man—was reckless, improper, and entirely unlike her. And yet her feet betrayed her, carrying her forward. The door shut behind her with a deep thud, sealing her fate.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
Zareth leaned against the closed door, eyes sliding over her with deliberate slowness, savoring the sight of her unease. The corner of his lips lifted again—mocking, knowing, unbearably confident.
"Why are there no lights?" Serenya whispered into the heavy darkness, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound firm.
Zareth pushed off from the door with a languid grace, his tall frame closing the space between them in an instant. His hand brushed her waist in a fleeting caress that made her body stiffen.
Then—suddenly—every candle in the chamber flared to life. Flames danced across the walls, chasing away shadows, revealing him fully.
Serenya's breath caught in her throat.
His crimson eyes glowed brighter than the firelight, intense and merciless. Black veins spread like cursed rivers across his throat, down his chest, and along his powerful arms. The sight rooted her in place. Her lips parted.
"Wh–what is that?" she whispered, horrified yet unable to look away.
"Decay," Zareth answered simply, his voice a dark purr.
Her brows furrowed, confusion clouding her wide eyes. He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, until his breath brushed against her skin. He lowered his face into the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. Her lotus-blush scent filled his lungs, and a low hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. For a moment, the veins under his skin stilled as if her very presence soothed the rot gnawing at him.
Pulling back, he let his lips hover close to her ear.
"It's what happens when a vampire is about to die."
Serenya's stomach dropped. "Die?" she echoed, her voice breaking.
He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving her face as he dragged his gloved fingers across the blackened veins on his chest.
"When a vampire has lived too long, the body begins to rot from within. This… is the evidence."
Her eyes widened further, sorrow clouding them. "Does that mean… you're going to die? How long have you lived?"
He chuckled darkly, the sound mocking her concern. With deliberate slowness, he pinched her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"My, is that sadness I see? Don't be so tragic, little dove. If I die, you can always flutter back into the arms of your precious prince Kael."
Her throat tightened painfully. She looked down, hurt of the sting in her chest. Why did his words feel like knives?
Zareth's expression shifted, though only slightly. His lips curved again, cruel and knowing.
"Yes, I might die," he admitted in a low murmur, then added, "But there is a way to slow the process."
Her eyes shot back up, hope flickering desperately. "What is it?"
The smirk widened into that infuriatingly arrogant smile of his, the one that dared her to defy him. He leaned down, his voice a velvet whisper meant only for her.
"A deep kiss from the woman you love… every night."
The room fell silent, her breath the only sound. Serenya's lips parted, then closed quickly again as her face flamed red.
What on earth was he saying?!