The world tilted beneath her.
Amara's knees buckled, her trembling body sinking into the silk-draped bed, pulse racing, cheeks burning. The bite—Kaelith's bite—still throbbed against her neck, a raw, exquisite pain that licked at her nerves, leaving a trail of heat she could not deny.
She tried to scramble back, to put distance between them, but his presence was a shadow that swallowed the room. Kaelith stood over her, tall, impossibly broad, every movement predatory, possessive, magnetic. His dark red eyes glinted with a hunger that was more than blood, more than desire.
Something inside him had changed the moment he tasted her. Her blood was… intoxicating. Virgin, pure, and ripe with a sweetness that burned through his centuries of discipline. One taste had become an ache, a craving he could not quell. His hand grazed her jaw, brushing her lips with a thumb that felt like iron and fire.
"You are mine," Kaelith murmured, voice vibrating with hunger. "Do you understand, little one?"
The tension thickened and slipped into her veins. The shivers had overtaken her body already as she was still in her commoner gown. Her throat was raw, her hands shaking. "I—I…" Her words dissolved into a shuddering gasp.
Amara wanted to resist, wanted to run. But the heat pooling between her thighs betrayed her fear. Her body was already betraying her, reacting to him with a desire she didn't want to acknowledge.
Kaelith bent, lips ghosting along her collarbone, brushing the tender hollow above her breast. Every touch was electric. His fangs pressed lightly, teasing, testing, making her whimper softly, pitifully.
"Such a delicate thing… and all for me." His hand traced the curve of her waist, sliding lower, fingers grazing the swell of her hips. "Do you feel it? The pull?"
Amara did. God, she did. It was terrifying and yet she couldn't stop the trembling, couldn't stop the flush rising in her skin, the ache deep in her core. Every nerve ending was alight, singing with the heat of him.
Then he drank again.
This time, it was not just a bite—it was an entire claim, fangs sinking deep, tongue teasing the wound, drawing blood with slow pulls. Pain lanced through her, but it twisted into pleasure so sharp it made her gasp, arching her back, pressing against him without realizing. Her hands clutched at his shirt, at the silk sheets, at anything to ground herself but there was no escaping him.
Her moans broke from her before she could stop them, tiny, shameful, trembling sounds that seemed to inflame him further. His lips moved against her skin, warm, wet, insistent, and every pull of blood sent a shiver through her, pooling lower, dragging her toward a heat that was humiliating, sinful, and exquisitely hers.
"You taste… too good," Kaelith growled against her throat, his voice rough, commanding. "I cannot, will not let go." His head waged war with her entire body, warning him away from the rush of feelings firing off inside of him. Feeding on her blood is like tasting the sweetest poison.
Amara shivered violently as his hand slid between her thighs, tracing over the thin cotton of her dress, teasing the dampness that betrayed her arousal. She tried to gasp a protest, but it caught in her throat as he moved, fangs still sunk in, feeding, dominating, claiming her utterly.
Her legs wrapped around him, he pulled her hips and his shielded erection pressed against her heat. Every pull of his lips, every stroke of his hands pushed her further, deeper into a haze of pain, pleasure, and dizzying submission.
Kaelith lined up his cock and slowly pushed inside of her. Amara shuddered as he slowly withdrew to press into her a bit more. Her back arched as he repeated this again and again, giving, wanting, even as her mind screamed that this was forbidden.
Amara was crying—soft, trembling, overwhelmed but he only pressed closer, the weight of him grounding her, consuming her. Vampires do not mate with humans. This is impossible…
But Kaelith was already breaking the law, already claiming her soul. The bite deepened, fangs pressing as his hands roamed, fingers teasing and testing, feeding and fucking her with possessive strength. Each thrust getting him one inch closer to hitting her g-spot. OH, she's so tight! The blood bond was forming, the connection tightening with every gasp, every whimper, every tremble.
"You are mine," Kaelith repeated, voice low, vibrating in her chest. "No council, no law, no other vampire—will take you. Only I own you."
Fire spread across his skin as he picked up his pace. He rammed into her over and over again, and she shook with every thrust.
The mark he left glowed under candlelight, the imprint of fangs a permanent brand. Amara gasped at the heat, the sting, the undeniable claim. She pressed a trembling hand to it, fingers slick with her blood and sweat. She was marked. Owned. Claimed. Bound.
And he was not done.
Kaelith lifted her to the center of the bed, letting her collapse under him. His body was scorching, rigid with control and lust. He had never seen anything as beautiful as her in the throes of passion. Then, he pushed in and out of her like he has lost his goddamn mad.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, holding him close. Every shiver, every moan, every broken word of protest fed him, made him harder, more insatiable. The room was thick with the scent of sex and blood, silk sheets clinging, candlelight painting red shadows across their bodies. Amara was his entirely, body, blood, and soul, and she knew it.
"You will learn what it is to belong," Kaelith whispered, lips brushing over her ear. His fangs grazed her shoulder, drawing a tiny lick of blood that made her gasp. "To me, and only me."
The heat of him was overwhelming, suffocating, erotic beyond reason. She felt dizzy, weak, and burning all at once. Every nerve was alight. Every pull of blood was a violent, delicious possession that left her gasping, trembling, and impossibly wet.
Her first orgasm came without warning, a shuddering explosion of pain, pleasure, and surrender, spilling through her veins like fire. And still, he fed, his fangs pressing, lips moving, fingers stroking, dragging her deeper, claiming her entirely.
By the time Kaelith pulled back, Amara was a trembling, flushed mess, pressed against silk, sweat and blood mingling, completely and utterly his. She could barely breathe, her mind a haze of lust, fear, and utter obedience.
Kaelith stood over her, predatory, possessive, breathtaking. His gaze roamed her body, drinking in her vulnerability, her submission, her beauty. Every inch of her belonged to him now.
"Do you feel it?" he murmured, stepping close again, brushing her hair from her face. "The bond? The hunger? You are mine, Amara Veylin. Forever."
Tears streamed down her face, a mix of awe, fear, and the undeniable truth she could not deny. I came to sell my blood… and instead… I was sold to the devil himself.
In that moment, Amara knew there was no turning back. She was his, utterly, irrevocably, and the underworld would burn for her.
This was just the beginning.