In the middle of the night, I awoke to find Victor standing over me—bare-chested beneath a black silk robe, a single candle flickering in his hand.
"Come," was all he said. The robe rippled behind him like a shadow caught in a draft.
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I glanced at the clock. The numbers glowed, hazy and meaningless. I threw on my robe and followed him.
By the time I reached the hallway, Victor had already descended the stairs and vanished through a set of arched doors. I pushed them open slowly. They creaked, heavy and ancient.
A grand theater revealed itself—balconies spiraling above, velvet seats covered in dust. Victor stood at the end of a long aisle, staring up at the red curtains drawn across the stage.
As I approached, the curtains parted with a slow, theatrical sweep.
The guard from the night before sat center stage—bound, gagged, slumped in a chair. Blood streaked down his temple, glistening under the stage lights.
"Victor… what is this?" I whispered.
He didn't answer. Instead, he took my hand and led me to the edge of the stage. We stood together, watching the man stir. His groans were faint, confused—until his eyes found Victor. Panic bloomed in his expression.
"You humans," Victor said, his voice cold, detached, "so prideful. So weak. You forget your place—on soil I've ruled since before your kind understood its own existence." His gaze never left the man. "Tonight, you'll remember just how small your life truly is."
From the wings came the rhythmic sound of footsteps. A line of dancers emerged—porcelain-skinned, hauntingly beautiful, eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. They moved like marionettes, poised behind the captive like ballerinas waiting for a cue.
Beside me, Victor let out a low, guttural growl.
I looked up. His skin rippled as though something inside clawed to break free. He clenched his fists, controlling it—but only barely.
Then, one of the dancers—tall, inhumanly graceful—stepped forward. She lifted her arms, head tilting back as if preparing to ascend.
And then she struck.
The sound of a man choking on his own blood will haunt me forever. She tore through his throat effortlessly. Blood sprayed across the stage, across Victor, across me. I gasped, nearly collapsing as something primal surged through me—hunger, hot and all-consuming.
Victor trembled, battling the urge to feed.
But we both stood still, heaving, soaked, watching the brutal performance unfold.
Blood clung to my skin, seeped into my clothes, slid into places it shouldn't. I needed a shower—desperately.
The dancers stepped back into the curtain's shadow, vanishing like spirits. The man collapsed, lifeless. His blood pooled at the edge of the stage.
We stood in silence until the last drop fell.
There was a message here.
My place was beside Victor, not among the others. I was to observe. Never intervene. Never question.
Victor turned to me. Without a word, he smeared blood across my lips with his thumb.
"You are so beautiful," he said.
A broken laugh escaped me—half hysteria, half dread. I clutched his arm, staring at the closed curtain. I didn't want to imagine what else lay beyond it.
The curtains parted once more.
The dancers returned—blood-soaked, poised, graceful. They bowed in unison before Victor, then vanished into the wings.
"Well," Victor said cheerfully, as if we'd just finished a late-night opera, "let's get off to bed. That was enough excitement for tonight."
His arm slid around my shoulders as we left the theater.
The corridors were silent. Victor leaned in close, whispering soft, unintelligible things into my ear.
We bathed together in silence, scrubbing blood from one another until the water ran from crimson to clear.
Later, I stood on the terrace, watching guards patrol the grounds in eerie synchronicity.
Why did beings with such power need human guards?
Unless… unless wasn't a vampire.
But Victor had called her his sister.
I shook the thought from my head and stepped back inside. Victor was waiting.
"Your sister mentioned we'd have to sleep separately," I said cautiously.
Victor smirked and threw back the duvet. "Let's get into trouble, then."
I slid into bed beside him, my back against his chest. He turned out the light, then wrapped himself around me.
His breath was warm against my neck. His chest rose and fell, steady, grounding.
And then I felt him—his hips grinding slowly against me. His breath deepened.
"Mmm… Ayana," he whispered, barely audible.
His hand slid beneath my nightgown, cupping my breast. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him to slow down—but the words caught.
His other hand reached between us, freeing himself. The head of his cock pressed against me, separated only by a thin strip of cloth. He pulled my underwear aside, rubbing against me… then slowly pushed inside.
A yelp escaped me before I could stop it.
Light flooded the hallway.
We froze.
Victor clamped a hand over my mouth, holding still. Footsteps approached. They paused outside the door. The knob jiggled.
Still locked.
We waited. Unmoving. Silent.
The footsteps eventually retreated.
Victor removed his hand from my mouth and slid deeper into me with a low, shuddering moan.
My own hand muffled the next sound as I gripped the sheets, trembling with each slow thrust. He touched everything—my thighs, my breasts, my waist, my stomach—until I shattered, climaxing beneath his hand.
The footsteps returned.
Victor didn't stop.
He picked up his pace, nearing his own release. One hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back. He met my eyes—and bit me.
Pain. Heat. Ecstasy. Delirium.
He came inside me as the venom spread like fire through my veins. My vision blurred. I heard his groan—low, lost, satisfied.
He laid me down gently, brushing hair from my face. Kissed my shoulders. Waited as the venom worked its way through me.
Eventually, I stirred.
Through the window, the sky had begun to pale.
"Two more hours," Victor whispered, "before we have to be awake."
I rested my head on his chest, exhausted, but awake—watching him sleep.
Disheveled. Peaceful. Beautiful.
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. The first time I'd ever touched him without hesitation.
His eyes opened.
"Did I wake you?" I asked.
He smiled and kissed my palm. "I could feel you were awake."
He pulled me close again. His warmth felt impossibly real.
Then the alarm blared.
Victor groaned and silenced it.
We showered in silence. He dressed me with reverent care—combing my hair, parting it neatly, sliding me into a long black gown. It felt intimate, like ritual.
But it was performance. A game.
The ring still hugged my finger tightly.
Victor led me down the stairs, through winding halls, and stopped outside the dining hall.
"My sister can be… literal," he said. "Don't take her words to heart. But listen closely—there's always a hidden meaning."
He squeezed my hand, then opened the door.
Inside, strangers sat around a circular table. Their eyes shifted as we entered.
"Glad you could join us this morning, my lord," croaked an elderly woman. She leaned back, gaze sliding over me with visible disgust.
Victor took his seat at the head of the table. I stood beside him.
"I do apologize, Manita," he said smoothly. "This newfound energy is… difficult not to indulge." He extended a hand. I took it, stepping forward.
No one met my gaze.
"She should be dead," the old woman muttered. "But you couldn't leave well enough alone. A king out of touch with his nature—bending it to suit his whims."
"Careful," Victor warned, voice like silk over a blade. "My magic has already touched you. Look at yourselves—wrinkles fading, youth returning. You should be grateful I remembered even those who doubted me."
He turned his gaze to a silent, dark-skinned woman in the corner, arms crossed protectively.
"Let my wife stand as proof of what I've accomplished," Victor said. "While you plotted against me, I reshaped the world. Humans—conniving, deceitful. But I forgive… for now."
His sister's voice cut across the room. "How will she learn her place if you coddle her? I noticed she wasn't alone last night."
My heart stuttered.
Murmurs swept the table.
"If I recall," Victor said icily, "you were partially responsible for Elizabeth's death. You did nothing to fix that. As for Ayana, I keep her close because I choose to—not because I have to."
His sister looked at me—not in anger, but with sorrow.
"This time," Victor said, rising, "she will become everything she was meant to be."
Silence.
Victor nodded once.
"This council is dismissed. I'll see you at the charity banquet next month."
One by one, the others stood. In perfect unison, they raised fingers to their lips and spoke: