The dungeon reeked of blood and rust. Damp stone walls pressed in on all sides, their cracks weeping with moisture that dripped like a cruel reminder of water he could not drink.
Kyren sat against the wall, bound in heavy chains that wrapped around his arms, chest, and legs. He couldn't move an inch. His body was covered in scars, his wounds had long dried, and every breath felt like fire in his lungs. A few steps away, his sword Moonlit Crescent lay abandoned, far out of reach.
A week ago, he had led the Imperium Empire's Legion to war. They had marched toward the Abyssal Vampire Temple, intent on purging the blood-drinkers who had plagued human lands for decades.
As the DemiGod Slayer, he had never failed before. He had slain dragons born from divine blood, crushed vampire lords, and carried humanity's hope on his shoulders.
But this time was different.
When they reached the temple's borders, the Legion Army was ambushed. Someone had betrayed them leaking their movements. The vampires struck with perfect timing.
He fought like a storm, his blade cutting down dozens, but at the height of the battle, a blade pierced his back. Not from the enemy but someone from his own side.
For a heartbeat he froze, stunned more by the betrayal than the wound. That hesitation was all it took.
The enemy pressed harder, and without their commander the Legion fell apart. Lines broke, men scattered, and the battlefield turned into slaughter.
For four long days, he had been left without food or water. His mana was drained completely, leaving him weaker than an ordinary man. Death no longer frightened him. What burned inside him was hatred for that traitor who had stabbed him and for the vampires…
Just as his thoughts began to fade into a haze, he heard voices outside the dungeon. Footsteps echoed beyond the dungeon door, accompanied by the murmur of voices.
"You may leave. I want to have private chat with our guest alone… the so-called DemiGod Slayer."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Kyren opened his eyes, weak but alert. "Majesty?" His mind stirred. Only one person held that title here.
"The Queen of Abyssal Vampire Empire… Isadora Virelai…?" he muttered under his breath.
The legends said little about her. Some claimed she was a phantom who rarely stepped onto battlefields, her presence a curse that turned tides.
Others called her a hag who drank the blood of men until their souls withered. A monster cloaked in shadows. He had never imagined she would come here herself.
The door groaned as it slowly swung open. She stepped inside with a quiet grace.
Kyren froze, his heart skipping a beat.
She wasn't old, nor was she ugly. In fact she was stunning. Her long black hair caught the dim light shimmering like silk. And deep blue eyes like rare gems, drawing him in.
Her skin was pale and flawless, smooth as polished jade. She moved with effortless grace, her figure was both elegant and dangerously impossible to ignore.
Kyren's breath caught in his throat despite himself.
"So the rumors were wrong. She wasn't some ugly old hag! She was… well, undeniably stunning…"
Isadora stopped a few steps away, tilting her head as she looked at him with a smile.
"So this is the famous DemiGod Slayer?" Her voice was soft but sharp, "I expected more. Humanity's strongest warrior… reduced to this?"
His chest tightened. Her smile cut deeper than his injuries, like a silent insult.
She leaned closer, her scent a faint mix of roses and lavender. "I thought you would be untouchable. The one who slayed demi-god dragons and turned vampire lords to ash. Yet here you are breathing raggedly at my mercy. Tell me human… what's your last wish?"
Her tone twisted into a cruel delight as she whispered the final word. "Slave."
The word struck him like a knife. His chains rattled as he clenched his fists, anger mixing with shame.
"Kill me," he growled through bloodied lips. "I can accept death, but not humiliation. Not from a vampire queen!"
Isadora giggled softly, a sound that sent shivers down the stone walls.
"So fierce still… I like that. But before I grant your wish, shouldn't you entertain me little slave?"
Her deep blue eyes locked onto his as if daring him to resist.
Kyren shut his eyes for a heartbeat, steadying his rage. When they opened again, his pupils blazed red. Ancient patterns shimmered to life within them, lines and runes that pulsed with a power long forgotten. Even drained of mana, something older stirred in him.
Isadora's smile faded. "What is this…?" she whispered.
She tried to look away, but couldn't break the connection. Her body stiffened, gaze locked with his. Her cheeks flushed, breath quickening as goosebumps prickled across pale skin. She struggled to turn her head around, but invisible chains held her fast.
The runes in Kyren's eyes brightened, and like a reflection in a dark mirror, the same patterns burned onto his chest… and to her shock, they appeared on the middle of her breast, glowing faintly beneath her dress.
Her eyes widened, filled with both fury and something far more dangerous.
Then the compulsion took her, as a wave of overwhelming heat crashed through her, clouding her mind, shattering her regal control. Her body moved on its own. She stepped forward her movements losing their grace, becoming driven by a deep primal need.
She leaned down, her cold body pressing against the cold iron of his chains. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight, desperate embrace. Her lips found his in a possessive searing lip kiss.
Kyren's own mind was swept away by the backwash of the forbidden magic. Logic drowned in a rising tide of raw sensation. He kissed her back with a matching desperate passion.
With frantic hands, she tore at her own fine garments, then at his ruined robes. The heavy chains still held him pinned to the wall, but she worked around them. Her touch was gentle as she stroked his hair, then fiercely possessive as her hand traveled down his body. She took him in her hand, and a ragged gasp escaped his lips.
Without another thought, driven by the magic's imperative she lowered herself onto him. She sheathed him inside her with a sharp breathless cry.
The dungeon was no longer a tomb of silence. It was filled with the sound of their raw, magically-fueled joining with ragged breathing, and soft cries.
An hour later, they collapsed together onto the cold filthy floor, limbs tangled, breathing in heavy ragged unison. The fierce glow on their skin faded to a faint dormant shimmer.
Slowly like a fog lifting, clarity returned to Isadora's deep blue eyes. She pushed herself up, her body aching in new and unfamiliar ways. Her gaze fell upon the love bites and scratches marking her perfect pale skin.
She snatched a torn piece of her dress and covered herself, her movements quick and ashamed. She stared at the near-lifeless man beside her in anger.
Her voice came sharp and cold. "What just happened? What did you do to me?"
Kyren coughed, his face pale and blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. His last strength was gone and he was close to death, yet he forced a smirk.
"I used a forbidden magic," he said, his voice weak but steady. "Our souls are bound now. If you kill me, you die too!"
He saw the fury rising in her eyes and forced himself to keep speaking, his tone a weak but mocking taunt.
"Now that we've been intimate… and more than that, bound by your own laws… you know the truth. Once your kind shares blood and body, you can never take another mate!"
His smirk deepened as her expression turned apocalyptic.
Isadora's blue eyes widened in shock, then narrowed, her fury sparking like wildfire.
In the blink of an eye she moved forward, vampire's power surging through her veins as her hand shot forward, fingers stretching and nails lengthening into ivory talons that gleamed sharp enough to tear through steel.
With a hiss of power, she stopped a hair's breadth from his neck.
But Kyren had already lost consciousness. His body slumped against the chains, completely spent.
Isadora froze, her claws still hovering close enough to feel his faint breath. Her fury burned hotter with every second. She wanted to kill him, to tear out his throat, to erase this shame.
Yet the glowing mark on her own body pulsed faintly, reminding her of the truth. If she killed him, she would die too.
Her hand shook with rage. Her pride screamed at her to strike. But slowly, she lowered her claws and stared down at him with a storm of emotions she could not name.
"You think it's so easy bind me? And escape my clutches after this?" she whispered in a low voice with killing intent.
She stood in silence, staring at him for a long moment, her eyes cold and unreadable.
Then, without a word, her figure blurred and she vanished into the darkness of the dungeon, leaving only the echo of her fury behind…