The grand clock in the hallway struck midnight.
Arielle sat on the edge of the bed, her silk robe loose around her shoulders, eyes fixed on the heavy door. Every creak in the mansion echoed like footsteps, every gust of wind a whisper. Lucien had vanished hours ago, but the feeling of being watched had never left her.
Then it happened.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Lucien stepped inside with a calm that was almost unnatural. His black suit was impeccable, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair slicked back, not a strand out of place. He moved like a shadow with intent—quiet, graceful, and far too powerful for comfort.
She stood instinctively. "You said I belong to you now," she began, her voice braver than she felt. "But that doesn't mean I'm yours to—"
"To what?" he interrupted softly, eyes never leaving hers. "Touch? Taste? Own?"
She flinched at the word.
He smirked.
"I don't break what I've paid for, Arielle. I simply... unwrap it in time."
He crossed the room in two steps. Arielle held her breath as he stopped before her, his presence cold and burning all at once.
Up close, he was too perfect. Too still.
"Are you really...?" she hesitated, unable to say the word.
"A vampire?" he finished for her, amused. "You've already seen the signs. The silence. The eyes. The scent."
"I thought it was just... power. Arrogance."
"Oh, it is." He grinned, revealing a hint of sharp canines. "But not just that."
She took a small step back. "Then what do you want from me?"
Lucien's gaze dipped to her throat, lingering. "What do you think a vampire wants, bride?"
Blood.
The answer pulsed in her veins.
But he didn't bite her. Not yet. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, glass vial of crimson liquid. He held it out.
"What is that?"
"My blood," he replied casually. "Drink it."
Her eyes widened. "Why would I—"
"It binds the contract. Without it, you're just a piece of paper and a promise. With it, you become mine in every way. Protected. Watched. Desired."
"Desired," she repeated, barely a whisper.
Lucien nodded. "You will be safe here, Arielle. But only if you follow the rules. And the first rule is simple: drink."
She hesitated, staring at the vial. It shimmered slightly, like it wasn't just blood but something older—magic, maybe. Power.
When she didn't move, Lucien tilted his head. "You think you still have a choice?"
Arielle's pride flared. She grabbed the vial from his hand and downed it before her courage could catch up with her fear.
It was warm.
Sweet.
Then burning.
She gasped, dropping the empty vial as her heart slammed in her chest. Every nerve in her body ignited—electric, alive. Her knees buckled, but Lucien caught her effortlessly.
His arms were strong, unyielding, and cool.
"You'll feel the connection soon," he murmured in her ear. "A thread between us. One only death can sever."
"What have you done to me?" she breathed, trembling.
"Nothing you didn't agree to," he said, cradling her with surprising gentleness. "You're mine now. In name. In law. In blood."
He carried her to the bed like she weighed nothing. Her pulse still raced. Her skin felt hypersensitive. His scent—dark cologne and something ancient—made her dizzy.
Lucien set her down but didn't leave.
He sat beside her, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "You're stronger than I expected."
"I had no choice," she said quietly.
"You always have a choice. Even in fear." His voice lowered. "You chose your family over yourself. That makes you dangerous."
"Dangerous?" She laughed weakly. "I'm trapped in a mansion with a vampire billionaire. What could I possibly be dangerous to?"
Lucien's smile faded. His eyes glowed again, softer this time. "My control."
Arielle blinked. "Excuse me?"
He stood. "Rest now. The blood bond will settle by morning. We'll talk again when you've adjusted."
"Lucien," she called after him, unsure why she suddenly wanted him to stay. "Why me?"
He paused at the door. "Because not even monsters like me can resist fate."
And with that, he vanished into the night.
Arielle barely slept.
Visions plagued her dreams—flashes of red eyes, ancient castles, voices speaking in languages she didn't know. She woke with a jolt just before dawn, breathless.
There was a mark on her wrist.
A symbol. Elegant, curved lines like a sigil burned into her skin—not painful, but very much real.
The bond.
She rushed to the mirror.
Her reflection stared back. Same face. Same brown eyes. But something was different. She looked... alive. Too alive. As if she were glowing faintly beneath the surface.
A knock at the door startled her.
A servant, dressed in black, entered with breakfast and a note. The tray held a spread fit for royalty: fresh fruit, pastries, and tea... and a second vial.
The note read:
"Drink before sundown. Welcome to your new life." —L
Arielle picked up the vial, her hand steady.
Whatever she had agreed to, it was already too late to walk away.
But one thing was clear:
Lucien may own her contract.
But her heart?
That would be earned—if he dared to try.