(Adrian's POV)
The halls of Duskbane Keep whispered with silence.
Stone walls stretched high above, adorned with crimson banners and silver chandeliers that dripped light like pale blood. Every sound carried boots on marble, the soft sweep of cloaks, the hushed breaths of courtiers too afraid to speak above a murmur.
I moved through them like a phantom.
My cloak trailed behind me, black velvet swallowing the faint glimmer of torchlight. My steps echoed sharp against the stone, a rhythm that kept the entire court on edge.
The moment I entered the great hall, the chatter of my council stilled. Dozens of crimson eyes turned toward me, bowing their heads as though my very presence was enough to snuff the air from their lungs.
Good. Fear was the foundation of power. And I had long ago built my throne upon it.
But tonight… it felt heavier than usual.
Because behind the mask of my cold dominion, my thoughts were still tangled in the forest. In him.
"Your Majesty," Lucien Veyra, my general, stepped forward. His armor gleamed like obsidian, his silver hair tied back with soldier's precision. His devotion to me had always been absolute, but there was something sharp in his gaze tonight, something probing.
"The council awaits your word," he said. "Shall we prepare retaliation for the wolves' assault? Their victory will embolden them unless we strike back swiftly."
A ripple of agreement ran through the gathered lords and generals. The hunger for blood was written on every face, their fangs bared in anticipation.
I took the throne. Cold stone carved with sigils of old, it rose above the court like a seat of judgment. Sitting upon it, I was no longer a man. I was the King of Vampires. Eternal. Untouchable.
I let the silence drag, watching them squirm. It was a tactic I had perfected, forcing them to confront their own impatience, their own fear of speaking without permission.
Finally, I spoke. "No retaliation."
The words struck like a whip.
Murmurs broke the silence, shocked, disbelieving. Lucien's jaw tightened, though his face remained carefully schooled.
"Forgive me, Majesty," he said slowly, his voice silk over steel, "but if we do not answer blood with blood, the wolves will believe us weakened. Already they celebrate. Already they mock us. Do you mean to let their insult stand?"
I met his gaze, unflinching. Lucien was bold, but he was not foolish. He knew better than to question me openly before the court. Still, his defiance simmered beneath the surface.
"I mean," I said, my voice smooth as ice, "that the wolves are beasts who thrive on frenzy. Deny them that frenzy, and they lose their momentum. Let them howl at the moon. It changes nothing. When the time comes, we will choose the battlefield. Not them."
The court bowed their heads, murmuring reluctant assent.
But Lucien did not lower his eyes. He held my gaze a moment too long, suspicion flickering in the red depths of his stare. Then, finally, he bowed. "As you command, Majesty."
The council dispersed soon after, but Lucien lingered. He approached the foot of my throne, voice low.
"You've been… different, my king."
The words were careful, but the implication was not.
I leaned back in my throne, letting a faint smirk touch my lips. "Different?"
"Distracted," he clarified, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Since the battle. Since before, even. I see it when others do not. I know you, Adrian." His voice softened, almost reverent.
"Something occupies your mind. Something other than this war."
The beast inside me stirred, not with rage but with panic.
For a heartbeat, Damien's face flashed in my thoughts, the way his hands pinned me against the tree, the way his lips bruised mine with possession. My body still hummed with the memory, with the shameful truth that I, the Vampire King, had yielded willingly.
But Lucien could not know that. No one could.
I stood in one fluid motion, descending the steps of my throne until I stood before him. He was tall, but I was taller, my shadow swallowing him whole.
"Careful, Lucien," I murmured, my voice velvet over a razor's edge. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing."
His lips curved into the faintest smile. "Only because I fear for you, Majesty. I would bleed a thousand times before letting harm touch you."
I searched his face, looking for deceit, but found none. His loyalty was real, his devotion absolute. Too absolute. And that made him dangerous in another way.
"You worry for nothing," I said coldly, turning from him. "Go. Leave me."
He hesitated, but bowed and withdrew, his boots clicking against the stone until silence swallowed the hall once more.
Alone, I allowed myself a single breath of weakness.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. My heart, a heart that should have stopped beating centuries ago pounded with the memory of Damien's voice. You belong to me, Adrian.
Gods, I hated how true it felt.
The throne behind me was cold, heavy with centuries of expectation. To my people, I was dominance incarnate, the blade they feared, the ruler they worshipped.
But in his arms, beneath the wild heat of his touch, I was something else entirely.
Something dangerous.
Something I could never allow the world to see.