{IRIS}
"Right this way, my lady."
I followed him, my steps echoing through the silent halls.
"Uhm . . ." I hesitated, glancing down at the dress I had chosen. "Is it alright if I wear this? I—I didn't bring any clothes with me."
"It is perfectly fine, my lady," Sebastian assured. "Everything in your room now belongs to you."
I bit my lip. "T-Thank you. But . . . you don't have to be so formal around me. I'm just Lord Val's . . . blood bank."
Sebastian stopped.
His sharp crimson eyes flickered toward me, glowing faintly in the dim hallway. "You are our Lord's guest," he corrected, his tone firm. "He said so the moment you arrived. And you shall be treated as such."
I wasn't sure what to say to that.
I lowered my gaze, choosing instead to change the subject. "There are so many dresses in the wardrobe . . . Are they for female guests? Are there others here beside me?"
A small part of me hoped there were other women here—someone I could talk to.
Sebastian hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then—
"No."
He stopped in front of a grand set of doors, hand resting on the handle. When he turned to look at me again, his slit-like pupils dilated slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming like fresh blood.
"There have been . . . instances," he said slowly, "where humans have wandered into this dimension by accident."
A pause.
"The dresses are from them."
I stilled.
". . . W-What?"
Sebastian didn't answer. Instead, he pushed the doors open.
The dining room was vast, illuminated only by the soft flicker of candlelight. A grand table stretched across the center, filled with all sorts of food. Plates of ripe fruit, roasted meats, delicate pastries. A feast fit for royalty.
But my eyes weren't on the food.
They were on him.
Lord Val sat at the head of the table, dressed in all black. A fitted long-sleeve shirt clung to his form, the fabric stretching over lean muscle. Black gloves covered his hands, his fingers tapping idly against the polished wood. His silver eyes, sharp and cold, were already on me.
Watching.
Waiting.
Something inside me twisted, and I suddenly understood.
The dresses.
The humans who had wandered here before.
Had they all . . . died?
Became food for the vampires?
My throat went dry. My limbs felt cold, my heartbeat thudding too fast in my chest.
Val stood.
He moved slowly, unhurriedly, as he circled around me.
I couldn't move.
His presence was suffocating—dark and overwhelming, a shadow pressing against my skin.
He leaned in close, his breath fanning against my cheek. His voice was soft, a whisper that sent chills racing down my spine.
"What's wrong?"
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe.
Then—
I felt it.
The graze of his fangs against my neck.
A sharp gasp left my lips, my fingers trembling as I clenched them at my sides. The air between us crackled, thick with something I couldn't name.
I didn't move.
I didn't pull away.
Instead, I let my eyes flutter shut and tilted my head, silently offering my throat to him.
A long pause followed.
Then—
A low chuckle, dark and rich.
Amused.
His fingers ghosted along my jaw, tracing the curve of my throat before pulling away.
"Sit," he murmured, his voice softer now.
I hesitated, meeting his gaze.
This man . . .
He was dangerous. Unpredictable. A monster lurking in the dark.
And yet—
Why did my heart pound at his touch?
"What's wrong? Sit."
I quickly obeyed, lowering myself into the chair beside him. My body was rigid, every muscle tense as I sat still, unmoving, barely even breathing.
Val's sharp silver eyes flickered toward me, his expression blank.
"You don't have to be so obviously afraid of me," he murmured, picking up his utensils with effortless grace. "Just be quiet . . . and eat."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at the food before me.
With shaking hands, I reached for the serving spoons, scooping some meat, mashed potatoes, and eggs onto my plate. But after that . . . everything blurred.
I wasn't sure how to move, how to act.
I glanced at Val.
He ate with an ease that made my chest tighten. Every movement was flawless, elegant—each slice of his knife graceful, each lift of his fork measured. He moved like a creature born of refinement, untouched by uncertainty.
And then there was me . . .
I felt small. Out of place.
My fingers trembled as I picked up the fork and knife, mimicking how he held them. But the moment I pressed the knife to the meat, it scraped loudly against the porcelain, the harsh sound echoing in the grand dining hall.
The fork slipped in my grip, and before I could react, the meat tumbled off my plate and into my lap.
Panic shot through me.
I scrambled to pick it up, placing it back onto the plate as quickly as possible. "S-Sorry . . . I'm not use to eating with utensils . . ."
The pack house had served me leftovers on a plate with no utensils, so I mostly used my hands.
A whisper.
A barely concealed giggle.
I stiffened. The maids standing along the walls had been watching, their judgment heavy in the air. I could hear them—murmuring, mocking.
"Such a savage . . . what else can you expect from a werewolf?"
My fingers curled into fists, shame burning hot beneath my skin.
Then—
A sharp crack.
A gasp.
I looked up just in time to see one of the maids crumble to the ground. Blood pooled beneath her, her body dissolving into nothing but crimson mist.
The air in the room thickened, heavy with the scent of death.
I couldn't breathe.
What just happened?
My heart pounded violently as I turned to Val. He hadn't even looked at the maid. He hadn't lifted a finger. Yet . . . she was gone.