I was adorned.
My hair was piled high in an elegant updo, curled and pinned with precision. A few loose tendrils framed my face, softening the sharpness of my cheekbones. My lips were painted deep crimson—bold, demanding. My eyes were lined with kohl, making them darker, more dangerous.
And the dress...
The dress was a sin.
Thin as breath. It draped across my body like liquid fire, clinging to every curve, every hollow. It left nothing to the imagination—my shoulders bare, my chest exposed, the fabric so sheer I could see the shadow of my own skin beneath.
My mother I know was selfish and cruel, but even she could not have afforded this. This was not a dress.
It is a weapon.
The only problem—or perhaps the gift—was that it left no barrier between me and the world.
No undergarment. Just me, laid bare beneath the crimson veil.
I am naked.
But maybe the heavens are still watching, I thought, because Tenebrarum chose this dress himself. And it will be his undoing.
I should tell you something. A secret.
Hidden within my carefully pinned curls was a sharp pin. When I'll bring him to his peak, when his guard comes down and his body becomes vulnerable, I would drive it through his throat.
One swift strike.
And he would fall.
---
"How do I look?" I asked, turning to face the mirror.
The woman staring back was almost a stranger.
My hair was piled high in elegant curls, a few soft strands framing my face. The red dress draped low across my chest, It hugged my waist, flared at my hips, and fell to the floor in a pool of crimson.
I looked beautiful.
The servant behind me bowed low. "Perfect, my lady. Our lord never makes the wrong decision. His choices are always... perfect."
I smiled at my reflection.
Perfect, I repeated silently. Yes. Perfect for what I am about to do.
"Then let us not keep him waiting," I said, and I turned from the mirror.
....
We walked slowly into the corridors... slowly passing curtains as we reached a door...
"Our lord waits beyond the door..."
The doors swung open.
I stepped into the chamber—dark, vast, swallowed by shadow. The only light came from a single candle at the center of a long table, its flame dancing like a living thing. How it burned so close to the crimson cloth without catching fire, I could not guess.
But I did not care.
The scent hit me first—rich, warm, intoxicating. Roasted pork, glistening with honey and herbs, sat upon a golden platter. My stomach betrayed me with a low, hollow growl.
I had not eaten properly in days.
But I did not reach for the food. I reached for control.
"You look stunning."
The voice came from the far end of the table.
Tenebrarum.
He rose from his chair slowly, deliberately, like a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.
He was tall—taller than I expected. His dark hair fell across his brow in waves, sleek and sharp. His face was cut like marble—strong jaw, high cheekbones, lips that curved into a cruel smile. But it was his eyes that held me. Golden. Burning. Ancient. They looked at me like I was already his.
He wore a dark fitted tunic, open at the collar, revealing the hard lines of his chest. A silver chain hung at his throat. Rings glinted on his fingers. He looked like everything dangerous and beautiful in the world.
A demon prince.
My demon prince.
And I would end him.
Yes. I would be so happy to end you. Today.
I smiled, letting my gaze travel over him slowly, deliberately.
"Yes... I dressed just for you today. You deserve all..." My voice dropped lower, softer. I moved toward the chair beside him, my hips swaying. I let my hand rest on the back of the chair, leaning forward just enough for the crimson fabric to slip—just barely—exposing more of my chest.
The dress nearly slid off my shoulder.
I let it.
Tenebrarum's eyes flickered. Just for a moment. Then his smile sharpened.
"Wow... what a change," he murmured. "But do not annoy me. I did not ask you to speak. Have you forgotten the rules?"
I laughed—low, breathy, dangerous.
"Oh, my lord... you did not forget. But in the rules... I clearly remember I was to serve you till satisfaction." I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I do not think when we go beyond here—when we reach the bed—you will control the way I scream. I will scream enough so you know exactly how amazing you are."
I lifted a goblet of wine, drinking slowly, deliberately. Then I let my tongue trace my lower lip, letting him see exactly what I was offering.
"So take off the mask," I said softly. "And let us get to business."
His golden eyes burned into mine.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he laughed—low, dark, genuine.
"Where did you learn to speak like that?" he asked.
Where?
My mother is a whore. I watched her all my life. I learned every trick, every lie, every false promise.
I hope this works.
I smiled and leaned closer, my voice a whisper of silk and sin.
"I learned from the best."
"Let us eat, then." He smiled, tipping his cup back and draining the wine in one long swallow.
No. Food is not the problem. Do something. DO SOMETHING.
I rose from my chair, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged bird. I moved toward him slowly, deliberately, my hips swaying with every step. His scent hit me before I reached him—dark, wild, intoxicating. Like smoke and spice and something ancient. Devils always smelled so good. But they were always poisonous.
I placed my hand on his shoulder, letting my fingers trail across the fabric of his tunic. I could feel the heat of his skin beneath, the hard muscle, the tension coiled in his frame.
"My lord, eat?" I murmured, leaning closer until my lips brushed the shell of his ear. "The only thing I want to eat... is you. I want to feel you inside me. I want you."
I pressed my chest against his neck, letting the thin fabric of my dress drag across his skin. The contact made my stomach turn—but I held my composure. I was a weapon. Weapons did not feel disgust.
Disgusting.
I felt like throwing up on my own words. I didn't know I had this in me. But my mother's blood ran through my veins. And whores knew how to seduce.
"Do you not want to eat?" he asked, his voice low, amused. "You do not act hungry."
"Hungry?" I laughed, a breathy, desperate sound. "Please, my lord... give me what I want. Please."
I reached for his mask, my fingers trembling against the cold metal. I had to kiss him. I had to get his attention. I had to make him believe.
The heavens will understand, I thought. I am not doing this for myself. I am doing this for the whole human race. For Flavia. For Father. For everyone he has destroyed.
I leaned closer. His breath was hot against my lips. His scent filled my lungs, dark and wild and intoxicating. I was so close—an inch away—I could almost taste him.
I had to do this.
I had to...
"No."
His voice stopped me cold.
My eyes flew open. He was staring at me, his golden eyes burning with something unreadable.
"Are you scared, my lord?" I breathed, forcing a smile. "I do not bite."
"No." His voice was flat, cold. "Before this... I need to show you a gift."
He raised his hand.
"OPEN THE CURTAINS."
---
The curtains on the far wall flew open.
I turned—and my blood turned to ice.
No.
I raised my hands to cover my exposed chest, my breasts bouncing with the sudden movement. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Because on the stage behind the curtain—
No. No. No. No. No.
The healers.
The healers I had just spoken to.
They were all hanging. Their bodies swayed gently from ropes tied to the ceiling. Their faces were frozen in masks of terror—eyes wide, mouths open, expressions of unimaginable horror.
I knew those faces.
Octavia. The one who had warned me. The one who had given me the vial. The one who had looked at me with something close to hope.
She was dead.
They were all dead.
And their eyes—their eyes—
They were filled with different terrors.
I fell to the ground, my elbow slamming against the stone floor. Pain shot through my arm. But I didn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything except the screaming in my chest.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
The sound tore from my throat, raw and broken. I scrambled backward, my bare feet scraping against the cold marble.
No. No. No. No. No.
He knows.
He knows everything.
---
I looked up at him through the blur of my tears. He was still seated at the table, his goblet in his hand, his golden eyes watching me with cold amusement.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he asked softly. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the pin in your hair?"
I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe.
"You spoke to them," he continued, his voice like silk over steel. "You plotted with them. You planned to kill me...such fools."
He rose from his chair, walking toward me slowly, deliberately. His footsteps echoed in the silence.
"And you thought... you could deceive me."
He crouched before me, his face inches from mine. His golden eyes burned into my soul.
"You are a fool, little mortal."
His hand shot out, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"But you are also... entertaining."
He smiled.
"So I will not kill you. Not yet."
He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear.
"Tonight, you will serve me. Tonight, you will scream for me. Tonight, you will learn exactly what it means to be owned by a demon prince."
His hand released my chin. He rose, looking down at me with cold satisfaction.
"And when I am done with you..."
He gestured toward the hanging bodies.
"You will join them...I promise."
---
To be continued...