Amara's eyes fluttered open, the morning light piercing through the silk-draped windows of the chamber. She awoke to the lingering warmth of him—Kaelith. Her body ached in every delicious way, trembling from the memory of his fangs, the heat of his hands, the inexorable pull of her blood. She was drenched in sweat, her skin flushed, her limbs heavy as if the night's events had drained her entirely.
The room smelled of him—leather, smoke, and the faint copper tang of blood that clung to the sheets and her skin, something primal that pressed against her senses and made her stomach flutter with fear.
Her stomach twisted painfully. Oh… my God…
The realization hit her like a storm. She wasn't just a donor anymore. Not just a girl paying off her father's debts. She was… marked, claimed and she was no longer a virgin. The truth left her breathless, her pulse racing, her limbs trembling as she remembered every agonizing, exquisite, shattering detail.
Kaelith.
The name reverberated in her mind, a sound simultaneously terrifying and intoxicating. He wasn't just any vampire—he was the Vampire Lord of the Crimson Dominion, the most feared and untouchable ruler of the territory. The man whose reputation alone could freeze other vampires and terrify mortals into submission.
Amara had felt him, claimed her blood and her body in a way no human should ever experience. A shiver wracked her body as she recalled the first thrust, the way he had filled her completely, hitting her in ways she didn't even know she could feel. Pain, yes—but a fire had ignited deep inside her, a heat she had never known, a desire she hadn't dared imagine.
His size, the way he stretched her, overwhelmed her fragile body at first—but every strike of it was followed by a wave of pleasure so raw, so possessive, that she had cried out, moaned, trembled, and melted under him.
Her hands flew to her abdomen reflexively, pressing into the lingering ache, remembering the impossible fullness, the way he had found her in ways she had never even imagined.
"Oh god… I… I really did it… with him… Kaelith… the Lord…" Her head swam, yet a curious, paradoxical wave of relief washed over her. Amara blinked around the room, taking in her surroundings.
Kaelith was gone. He had left.
For the first time in hours, Amara allowed herself a tiny, trembling sigh of relief. Relief that she wouldn't have to face his intense, piercing eyes just yet; relief that, for now, she could process what had happened in solitude.
Her eyes fell to a small velvet pouch sitting atop the side table. It was a bag full of coins. This was what she had come for. Her father's debts. Her family. The reason she had come to the Crimson House in the first place and the cost had been far higher than she had ever imagined.
Her chest tightened, and a pang of guilt shot through her. She couldn't tell them what had happened here. They could never know. Right now, Amara needed to leave, to deliver the coins, to protect her family. And yet… she could not stop thinking about him.
Getting off the bed, she stood unsteadily, pressing her hands to the table for support, glancing around the chamber. The implications were terrifying. She had entered the Crimson House thinking she was simply paying a debt. Now, she was irrevocably bound to the Vampire Lord of the Crimson Dominion, To Kaelith.
Her hands trembled as she tucked the coins into her bag. One day, Amara would have to face him again. But for now… for now, she had a mission. She had to deliver the coins, protect her family from the loan sharks.
Her fingers brushed the glowing mark on her neck once more. She shivered, half in fear, half in remembered heat. The Crimson Dominion's Vampire Lord had claimed her. And nothing, neither law, nor reason, nor human morality—could undo it.
Amara adjusted the hem of her commoner gown as she stepped out from the hidden doors of the Crimson House. Her hand clutched the velvet bag full of coins so tightly that her knuckles whitened, but she didn't dare slow her pace. Every step was a mixture of triumph and terror—triumph for surviving the night, terror for surviving him.
She descended the grand staircase, and the eyes of the brothel's vampires swept over her.
It was as if they knew.
The sharp glances, the subtle smirks, the imperceptible tilt of heads—all carried a knowing awareness. The other donors looked away quickly, but the vampires lingered. Their ice-blue, silver-flecked eyes appraised her body and her aura, as if trying to pierce through the veil of propriety and detect the secret that burned in her veins.
"They can't know… they don't know…" Amara told herself, keeping her head lowered and walking forward. "I don't care what they think. I just need to get out."
The velvet carpet led her to the street, where a public carriage waited, the horses stamping impatiently. She climbed in, keeping the coins pressed to her chest, and sank against the worn leather seat, letting herself exhale though the tremor in her limbs refused to settle.
The carriage rolled slowly, passing narrow streets lined with market stalls and the occasional peering townsfolk. This was the territory of vampires. Humans and Vampires lived in the same world but they had different societies. Humans were free, in name, but the invisible strings of debt and fear stretched far and wide. Their lives were controlled, purchased and destroyed by the immortal predators who ruled the night. The vampire lords controlled the night, their dominions stretching across mountains, forests, and hidden fortresses.
We are free by day, bound by night, Amara reminded herself, the thought tasting bitter. Humans worked for vampires—sometimes as debtors, donors, servants. Protection, survival, wealth, even the chance at life itself came with an unspoken price.
Her fingers brushed the bag of coins again. Her father's debts were settled, at least for now. And yet, the triumph felt hollow when measured against what she had lost or rather, what had been taken from her.
Amara closed her eyes, letting the motion of the carriage soothe her frayed nerves. "I want freedom…" she whispered. "I want to be free of him."
Hours passed until the familiar sight of her village came into view. The smell of damp earth, smoke from cooking fires, and the soft clamor of children running through the streets wrapped around her like a warm, protective cloak.
Her heart lifted despite the lingering tension coiling in her chest. This was her world. Her family. And she had brought the means to protect them.
The carriage stopped in front of her small home, a modest building with ivy climbing the stone walls and a small wooden gate creaking with the wind. Her little brother, Theo, came running as soon as he saw her, the sunlight glinting off his messy brown hair.
"Amara!" he cried, throwing his arms around her legs. "You're back! Did you get it? Did you really get it?"
Amara knelt down, hugging him close, her lips brushing his hair. "Yes, Theo. I brought it back. It's all safe now."
His small hands tugged at the bag of coins. "You really went there?"
"I did," she said softly, holding his gaze. There was pride there, but also a tinge of fear she couldn't voice. Amara didn't tell him how close she had come to losing herself or how Kaelith had claimed her in ways no one could imagine.
The front door creaked open behind them, and Michael, her father appeared, his eyes widening when he saw the bag in her hands. "Amara…?" His voice cracked between disbelief and relief. He stepped forward, tears welling, his hands trembling as he took the bag. "You… you really did it. You brought… all of it?"
Amara nodded. "Yes."
His lips trembled into a shaky smile. "Thank the gods… I thought… I thought we were done for. My little girl… you… you've saved us." Michael paused, searching her face, a question burning behind his eyes. "Tell me, what happened last night? Did… did it hurt?"
Her throat tightened, every fiber of her being screamed to confess, to tell him everything. But she couldn't. He would never forgive it and it's forbidden. Kaelith… the blood bond…
"I… donated my blood," Amara said softly, though her chest ached with guilt. "It… it was just a donation. I got the money in exchange."
Her father's eyes flickered with concern, but the weight of relief and joy softened his expression. "That's all? Nothing… dangerous?"
"No… nothing," she replied, forcing a smile. "Just a donation. I promised to help, and I did."
Michael pulled her into a trembling embrace, kissing her hair. "You… you're incredible my brave, beautiful girl. Thank you… thank you for bringing us back from ruin."
Amara closed her eyes in his arms, letting herself feel the pride and relief, even as a flicker of despair curled around her heart. I lied to them. I couldn't tell them the truth… about him… about last night… about the blood bond that ties me to the Vampire Lord of the Crimson Dominion.
Theo tugged gently at her sleeve. "Sister… are you okay? You look… tired."
Amara smiled weakly, ruffling his hair. "I'm fine, little one. Just… tired from the journey."
Even as she watched her father and brother get happy over the coins, she knew freedom was an illusion. No matter how far she ran from the brothel, from Kaelith… he had left a permanent mark on her soul.