BLAIR'S POV
Damien's footsteps made no sound as he carried me up a spiral staircase that felt endless. I could feel the raw strength of the muscles in his arms wrapped around me—hard as steel, yet cold as ice. I rested my head against his shoulder, and for the first time in years, my chaotic heartbeat felt a strange sense of calm, simply because I was this close to death personified.
He wasn't taking me to a dungeon. He was taking me somewhere far more dangerous: his private chambers.
With a flick of his hand, the ten-foot-tall double doors swung open. The room inside was a haunting blend of dark opulence and suffocating silence. A massive bed carved from blackwood stood at the center, draped in blood-red velvet curtains. The scent here was much denser—expensive leather, aged wine, and something ancient.
Damien dropped me onto the mattress. I didn't fight him. Instead, I landed gracefully, letting my black silk dress ride up my thighs, daring his eyes to look at exactly what he was rejecting.
"You're quite impatient to die, aren't you?" Damien stood at the edge of the bed, looming over me like a judge delivering a final sentence. He began to shed his heavy cloak, revealing a white silk shirt with the top buttons undone, exposing his flawless, pale skin.
"I just don't want to waste any time, King," I whispered, making sure to emphasize the word.
Damien's jaw tightened at the title. "I am not your King, mortal. I am a curse you should have spent your life running from."
"But you like the sound of it, don't you?" I crawled across the silk sheets, approaching him until I was kneeling at his feet. I looked up, meeting his glowing crimson eyes. "You are the master here. And I am your offering. Isn't that what you need? A thousand women to reclaim your lost throne?"
Damien gripped my jaw with his long fingers, forcing me to look deeper into his gaze. "Stop acting as if you know everything. You are merely Target Number Thirty. A girl with a heart on the verge of exploding."
He leaned down, his face only inches from mine. "My curse isn't some mere game of lust. I require purity, vitality, and overflowing life to restore the power shattered a thousand years ago. Every woman I bring to this bed is a 'battery' for my magic. I must take their innocence, mark their souls, and drain their life essence until I am fully restored."
His eyes flashed with a terrifying hunger. "And then look at you. You're fragile. You're broken. Your blood smells like poison because of the medicine you choke down. If I took you now, your essence would give me nothing but a bitter aftertaste."
I smiled, even as the familiar stabbing pain in my chest began to flare up again. I took Damien's hand and guided it to my neck, where my pulse throbbed weak but fast.
"If I'm so useless, then why haven't you thrown me out of this room, King?" I challenged him. "Why did you bring me to your bed instead?"
My hand drifted to his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. I could feel his body temperature shifting—no longer ice-cold, but beginning to burn with a suppressed passion.
"Maybe my blood is bitter, but the stakes are so much sweeter," I breathed against his lips. "Imagine winning a war with a weapon that's already half-destroyed. Isn't that a challenge a man like you can't resist?"
Damien let out a low growl, a sound like a wounded lion. Without warning, he shoved me back until I was pinned beneath him. He climbed over me, the weight of his body making it hard to breathe, but I loved it. For the first time, I felt truly real.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent deeply. I could feel his fangs grazing my skin; it would only take one small snap to pierce through.
"Do not tempt a devil if you aren't ready to burn, Blair," he hissed into my ear. His hand began to slide down my waist, gripping my skin possessively. "You want to feel alive? I will make you feel so alive that you will beg me to kill you."
He didn't kiss me immediately. Instead, he began to trail kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and stopped just above my chest, which was heaving irregularly. His hot breath made the small hairs on my neck stand on end.
"Ten days," Damien whispered, his voice now raspier and lower. "I will let you stay. Not because I want you, but because I want to see how long you can actually last before that pathetic heart of yours surrenders to my desires."
I let out a shaky moan as his hand brushed a sensitive spot on my thigh. "Then don't keep me waiting... My King."