Tasha stirred, breath shallow, eyes fluttering open to a strange ceiling above her. Not the hospital. Not her apartment.
A room built for power. For a king. Or a beast.
She lay on an enormous bed. So wide that it could hold four people, draped in thick, dark gray sheets and layers of fur that carried a deep, woodsy scent, and something sharp beneath it- like danger. The bed frame was made of iron, designed like black claws gripping the headboard. The ceilings were high, the walls a deep charcoal gray, sleek and cold.
This was no servant's quarters.
Someone had undressed her, cleaned her, and tended to her wounds. She pushed herself up, limping slowly toward the door, dread building in her chest. She cracked open the iron door. It groaned as it moved, revealing a dim hallway lit by cold wall sconces and shadows that seemed to breathe with the building.
A man stood just a few steps from the door. Tall. In black shirt.
His eyes found hers immediately, as if he'd been waiting. "You need to go back inside," he said, his voice calm but firm. "The halls aren't safe."
Her pulse kicked up. "Safe from what?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. Her fingers curled into fists. A man had almost assaulted her. And another had released a wolf to bite her. She had every right to run.
"I need air," she muttered.
"You were bitten," the guard replied, unmoving. "You should rest."
"You knew?"
Without a blink, she bolted down the hall with no sense of direction, just the rising panic in her chest and the pounding of her bare feet. Her knee ached with every step, but adrenaline surged through her veins.
The hallways were endless.
The long dinning table gleamed beneath the golden chandelier, very polished surface reflecting chandelier and old power. Servants, head bowed, moved in silent rhythm.
Kael sat at the head of the table, posture rigid, grey shirt rolled at the sleeves. He rarely dines with his brother, and when he did, silence followed. Lucien sat across from him. Lips curled in that lazy smirk he wore like a second skin. His shirt unbutton just enough to be defiant.
"I smell something strange," Lucien said suddenly, voice low, cutting through the clatter of forks of forks and plates. "Sweet. Warm. Human." He leaned back in his chair, fork dangling between his fingers. "New. Feminine."
Kael didn't blink.
Lucien tilted his head. "We all know that you couldn't find a mate for years," he dropped his voice. "You want the beauty for fun?"
The clink of silver stopped. The air felt still.
Kael's jaw tensed. "You were watching all along?"
"I was following the sweet scent," Lucien said with a smile. "It was intoxicating, brother."
Tasha ran.
Her bare feet padded against the polished floor, soft thuds echoing through the quiet hall. Her knees still ached from the sharp pain in her legs. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she moved, unsure of where she was going, but knowing she couldn't stay where she'd been.
The hall twisted and turned like a labyrinth. Stone walls reached up like the insides of a cathedral. She turned a corner and nearly collided with two servants. Their eyes remained glued to the floor, their shoulders stiff.
"Wait," she breathed, catching herself against the wall. "Can you help me? Where is the exit, please?"
But they didn't stop. They walked past her like ghosts.
Suddenly, her steps slowed. A presence pulled her attention. The air around her shifted. Standing just ahead in a narrow hall was the man she'd seen in the hallway once.
"There you are," he said, stepping forward with a deliberate calm. "You're free now, aren't you?"
She took a step back. "I-I was trying to find the exit."
"Of course you were," he chuckled. "Come with me."
She followed slowly, heart beating loud in her ears. But the way he led her doesn't seem like a way out. This wing was cold and old. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling. She stopped.
"We're almost there," he said without turning.
"No. I need to be on my own now."
But he grabbed her wrist. "Don't fight me," he whispered, gripping tighter. "I'm trying to keep you alive, Human."
"No!" she cried, but he was too strong. He grabbed her in, shut the door, and locked it with a click that echoed like a nail in a coffin.
"Why're you doing this?"
He walked up to her and fasten one iron cuff around her wrist, then he crouched, his eyes dark and calm like this were all normal.
"He's marked you," he said quietly. "He bit you."
Tasha froze.
"I saw it," he continued. "And if he looses control again, he'll take more than your neck. So, you're safer here."
Tasha breathing slowed as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. The room was colder. She shifted slightly, trying to sit upright, only for the cuff on her wrists to scrape against the floor with a harsh rattle. Her skin stung where it pressed her too tightly, and her lips trembled.
She was in trouble.
The room was lined with things she hadn't seen clearly before. Chains. Dozens of them. Some hanging from the walls, others cooled neatly on the floor. Shackles. Leader belts. Silver coins embedded on the stone.
Her thoughts were spiral. Perhaps she could get tortured, roasted and killed. Her pulse rose, and her throat tightened with panic.
And then, the door flew open, slammed off its hinges. She screamed.
Kael stood at the broken doorway like a storm barely held together. His dark hair fell into his eyes, but nothing could hide the fury in them. He saw her small, cuffed hands against the wall. The look in his eyes turned primal. Hungry. But not for food or blood.
It was possession. Rage. Claim.
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no please."
He didn't speak. But moved with swift.
She pressed herself against the wall, chest heaving, trying to disappear, but he was already there. With one violent tug, he tore the chain from the wall. It snapped, screeching as it gave away. Then, he bent, lifted her into his arms and walked out.
She wanted to fight and scream, but her body wouldn't obey. It felt like her very soul was bound to his, caught in his gravity. He carried her down the hall like a king claiming what was his. And back to the room she had ran from.
He placed her gently on the massive bed, its sheets cool, soft as clouds, smelling faintly of something earthy and male. She stared at him, trying to find her voice. Then, he pulled off his shirt.
She wasn't prepared, not for that.
His body was carved like a god's. Each muscle coiled and defined like it had been chiseled from stone. Veins traced his forearms like like fine ink. His chest rose and fell, and even in the silence, she could hear the raw sound of his breathing.
Something twisted in her belly. She slapped her hands over her eyes.
A beat passed. She lowered her fingers, peeking through them, and found him watching her. His eyes, sharp and golden, stared into hers.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, voice soft and almost pleading. "Why me?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked out.
She sat up, unsure whether to escape or to cry. But then, he came back with a tray in hand. Steam rose from the plate filled with bread, butter, grilled meat and sliced fruit. A warm drink on the side.
"Eat."