We were married the next morning.
No guests. No vows. No smiles.
Just signatures.
Lucien didn't even look at me during the ceremony.
In the car afterward, silence stretched between us.
"Rules," he said finally.
"Never enter my west wing.
Never touch my blood.
And if you're injured call me immediately."
I frowned. "That's oddly specific."
He met my gaze.
"You're not human-safe."
The mansion we arrived at was massive, dark, and unsettling.
The servants bowed to him and avoided looking at me.
"This is your room," he said, opening a door far from his own.
I nodded.
As he turned to leave, I asked softly,
"Why me?"
Lucien paused.
"Because you smell like destiny, I thought surviving the marriage was the hardest part.
But I was wrong the night is just beginning
Night fell heavy and quiet.
I couldn't sleep.
The mansion felt alive whispers in the walls, shadows moving when I wasn't looking.
I walked barefoot into the hallway.
That's when I felt it.
A sharp sting on my finger.
I gasped as blood welled up,I must have brushed against something sharp.
Before I could react, the lights flickered.
Lucien appeared in front of me instantly.
His eyes weren't human anymore.
"Don't move," he said, voice strained.
He stared at the blood like it was fire.
"You told me not to bleed," I whispered.
He clenched his jaw.
"Go back to your room," he growled. "Now."
As I turned away, I felt it.
His hand gripping my wrist.
Hot. Trembling.
"If I lose control," he said darkly, "you won't survive the night."
And for the first time since my wedding, fear wasn't the only thing in my chest.
Desire stirred too.