The kiss lingered longer than it should have. It tasted like danger and longing like something forbidden finally claimed. Elle's fingers curled into Elior's shirt, unsure whether she was pulling him closer or bracing herself against the magnetic force between them.
When he finally pulled away, his cold breath touched her cheek like mist. And for a fleeting second, he looked… regretful.
"I shouldn't have done that," he said, voice low and strained.
"Then why did you?" Elle asked softly, refusing to step back. She searched his face, every perfect angle shadowed by the flickering candlelight that lined the manor walls.
He hesitated. "Because you're the first thing I've wanted in a very… very long time."
Her heart clenched. Not from fear. From the overwhelming sense that he wasn't lying. That beneath all that darkness, Elior Valen was fighting a war with himself and she was the battlefield.
Outside, thunder cracked. A storm had crept over the manor, wrapping the forest in silence and shadows. Elior turned toward the tall windows, his jaw clenched.
"You shouldn't have come back here," he said, his voice clipped now. "This place... it changes people."
Elle crossed her arms. "Then why didn't you stop me?"
He looked at her again, and this time, there was fire behind his eyes. "Because I'm weak when it comes to you."
Her breath caught.
Suddenly, the chandelier above flickered violently, casting the entire hallway into a rhythmic pulse of dark and light.
Elior stiffened. "You need to leave this wing. Now."
"Why?"
But he didn't answer. He moved so fast she barely saw it, suddenly, he was in front of her, his hand around her wrist, gently but urgently tugging her away. His grip was cold. Not cruel, just cold. Like death.
They made it down two long corridors before Elle spoke again.
"You said the manor changes people. What did it change in you?"
"I know you're a vampire" she added
He didn't answer. But she saw the truth flicker in his eyes before he masked it again.
It made him something he hates.
They reached a door carved with ancient symbols, silver lines etched deep into black wood.
He turned the handle slowly and pushed it open, revealing a room that looked… untouched by time. A tall bookcase filled with dusty tomes, an antique writing desk, and a fireplace that flared to life the moment they stepped in.
It was warm here. Safer.
Elior stepped back, as if giving her space.
"You can stay here tonight," he said. "No one will bother you in this room. The wards are old, but strong."
"Wards?" Elle asked, eyebrows raised.
"Protection," he clarified. "You're not the only one interested in… forbidden things."
She slowly walked to the fireplace, wrapping her arms around herself. "You speak in riddles. Always."
"If I spoke plainly, you'd run," he replied.
"I already did," she whispered. "And I came back."
He didn't move, but she could feel the way her words hit him, like a dagger aimed perfectly between ribs.
"I don't want to be your weakness," she said, turning to face him.
"You already are."
The silence that followed was sharp. The fire crackled. The storm raged louder outside. And still, she didn't break his gaze.
She should be afraid.
She wasn't.
Maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was the last piece of sunlight in his eternal night. Or maybe it was the truth they both refused to speak aloud: She had questions, but more than anything, she wanted to be near him.
She took a step forward. "Why don't you feed?"
Elior's eyes darkened. "Because I swore I wouldn't hurt anyone again."
"But you're starving."
His jaw flexed. "I've gone longer."
"What happens if you don't feed?"
He didn't answer.
"Do you die?"
"No." His voice was bitter now. "I lose myself. The longer I resist, the more the monster wakes."
"Then take from me."
His head snapped toward her.
She stepped closer, pulse racing but steady. "Take a little. Just enough. I trust you."
Elior backed away like she'd burned him. "No."
"Why?"
"Because I won't survive it," he said, eyes wild. "Your blood… it calls to me like nothing ever has. If I taste you, Elle… I won't be able to stop."
She paused. "Is that what you're afraid of? Hurting me?"
"I'm afraid of what you'll make me become."
Silence stretched again, thick, aching silence.
Then he turned, storming toward the door. "Get some rest. I'll stand watch outside."
"Elior."
He paused, hand on the doorknob.
"You don't scare me."
"I should," he whispered, then walked out and shut the door.
Hours passed.
Elle couldn't sleep.
She wandered the room, flipping through old books, reading bits of letters in languages she didn't understand. But her mind kept returning to the kiss. The way he looked at her like he wanted to devour her and protect her at the same time.
Then she heard it.
A whisper.
At first, she thought it was the wind, until she heard it again.
A voice. Soft. Feminine. Desperate.
"Elle…"
She froze.
"Elle… help…"
It was coming from the wall.
She pressed her ear against the stone. A faint cry. Like someone buried inside.
She backed away slowly.
And that's when the fire went out.
---
TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER....