Chapter Four:
A few hours later, Jules lay in bed, unable to close her eyes for even a second. Her gaze drifted to the dresser across the room, its drawer left slightly open. Inside hung dark dresses—structured lace and stiff fabric. None of it was hers.
Her body trembled as dizziness washed over her. This wasn't hunger—not the kind she remembered. It was something darker, sharper, tearing at her insides. She clutched her head as a pounding ache spread through her skull, her vision swimming.
Out of instinct, Jules tested the door.
To her surprise, it clicked open.
She stepped barefoot onto the cold stone floor. The house felt tense, watchful. Floorboards creaked softly beneath her feet, and she sensed movement—people passing somewhere nearby, heartbeats she couldn't quite place. Unbeknownst to her, she was following the strongest presence in the house… perhaps in all of New Orleans.
At the base of a grand staircase, candlelight spilled from a door at the top. It was cracked open—just enough for her to peer inside. Her eyes swept the bedroom.
Lucian stood with his back to her.
His shirt lay discarded, his dark hair ruffled. Jules froze, unable to look away. He wasn't lean—he was solid, broad, immovable. His shoulders looked like they couldn't be forced aside by anything living. She watched as the muscles in his back flexed while he buttoned his trousers.
Before she could move, a voice cut through the silence—sharp and calm.
"You should be in your room."
Jules turned to run.
She didn't make it far.
Lucian gripped her wrists and pulled her into the room effortlessly, the door shutting behind them. The difference in size was undeniable—she barely reached his chest as he loomed over her.
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Jules bit her tongue, then snapped back anyway.
"I was hungry."
Something in Lucian's expression shifted—not anger, but calculation. His gaze flicked over her trembling frame, the way she swayed on her feet.
"You're weak."
The realization hit him all at once. She had just been changed—thrown into this world without preparation. He'd acted too quickly. Recklessly.
Always the hero, he thought bitterly.
"You locked me in with no explanation," Jules shot back. "I'm not sure what you expected."
Lucian exhaled slowly.
"Come with me."
She hesitated, but it didn't matter. It wasn't a request.
Beneath the house, carved stone chambers stretched into darkness. The air was damp, heavy, and made her skin crawl—but she forced herself forward. Iron doors groaned open, and dim light spilled across the dirt floor. Revulsion hit her instantly, and she recoiled.
Lucian's grip tightened.
"You keep them like this?" Her voice shook.
"I keep them alive," he replied coldly.
Humans lay chained in narrow cells, their skin sallow, eyes barely open. They couldn't speak—only weak, gargling sounds escaped their throats. The sight made Jules nauseous. The smell alone turned her stomach.
Lucian led her to one of the cells and produced a silver key. The lock clicked open. Inside, he crouched before a frail man whose head drooped forward. Lucian lifted the man's arm and positioned it near Jules's face.
Something inside her snapped.
The hunger surged like an addiction, drowning out reason. Before she could stop herself, her lips pressed against warm skin. She tried to pull away, her breath hitching with every second—until instinct won. Her teeth sank in.
The man flinched but didn't cry out.
Relief flooded her as the sweet, metallic taste filled her mouth. It was overwhelming—so powerful she felt she could drown in it.
"You drink to survive. Not to enjoy it," Lucian said sharply beside her.
"If you lose yourself, I will stop you."
Reality slammed back into her.
Jules's eyes burned as tears welled. She pulled back as best she could.
"I can't," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"You already are," Lucian replied without hesitation.
Disgust churned through her. Her stomach twisted, swelling uncomfortably as she struggled to pull away—but she couldn't. Not fully.
She had crossed a line.
And the worst part was knowing she could never uncross it.