Chapter 3

~~AURELIA~~

I’m going to die.

The thought rings in my head as I plummet downwards.

Tree thorns scrape my face, and I brace for the end—for branches to rake across my skin, to split my flesh and bones…

But suddenly—

I’m hanging. Mid-air.

My face is inches away from the sharp tips of the branches.

What in the actual hell?

The next thing I know, the air is being ripped out of my lungs as my body floats upward—back toward the window.

This has to be some sort of sick hallucination.

Shaking, I land on my feet inside the room.

The bedroom light—a gothic-styled chandelier—is now on, casting everything from the wardrobe to the dark oak desk set at the far end, in a rich golden hue.

Across the room, lounging on the couch, legs crossed, with a cigar in hand, is the Don.

“How was the flight?” he asks coolly, like he didn’t just throw me out the window and made me float back up. What in the sorcery?

“How did you—what did you do to me?” I whisper, clutching my arm in fear.

His eyes—

They’re no longer golden, but deep blue.

“Your eyes—” The words falter on my tongue.

“What about them, piccolo?”

“They were… golden.” I pause at the nickname. “You’re not human.”

He exhales, amused. “Careful.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his throat.

“I don’t want to be here… please let me go.”

He lifts his eyes lazily, smoke trailing from his lips.

“And waste such an expensive purchase?”

“Then return me. I’m sure they’ll give you a refund.”

“You seemed to enjoy being caged there. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I don’t have people making me float, changing eye color, or… whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t know what you want from me.”

I rasp, suddenly out of breath.

“What I want…” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over me like a predator “Is what’s inside you, piccolo. All of it.”

“You want to kill me?” A shaky step drags me backward.

He laughs slightly, and that’s when I see them—

Razor-sharp fangs peeking out from his mouth.

Oh God. He’s a mo—

“Vampire.” He cuts in softly as if reading my thoughts. “Piccolo, I’m a vampire.”

This has to be some sick joke… Vampires don’t exist. They’re just myths… Is anything real at this point?

I think I’m going to be sick.

“Come here.” He gestures lazily with his fingers—And his voice slithers into my head like smoke—before I even register it, my legs are already moving toward him on their own accord.

How is he doing this?

The next thing I know, I’m perched on his hard thighs.

He exhales smoke into my neck, brushing my golden hair aside.

“Relax, piccolo. I’ve barely touched you.”

His voice, its so deep…

If he’s going to kill me, he might as well do it now.

He sniffs my neck, and I shudder.

“We need to get you a name,” he hums. “For one so feisty and golden, you deserve something fitting.”

“Please don’t hurt me.” I fight the urge to touch him hair… this is all so new to me.

I should be scared but a part of me just wants to lean into him. Maybe it’s part of his magic? Hell what am i even thinking.

“And we also need to do something about that tone of yours. I believe you know who I am?”

A nod is all I manage and he smirks.

“Excellent. When you speak to me, you’ll say Master. Noting else. Do I make myself clear?”

My gaze flicks toward the carved ridges of his abs…

Why am I looking at his body when I should be screaming?

“Yes, Master.”

“…Aurelia,” he murmurs as he lifts his head from my neck, gazing into my eyes. I almost squirm at how dangerously attractive he looks.

“That’s a fitting name. Golden hair. Golden eyes. Too bad you don’t know how to use them.

But I’ll teach you.”

I don’t even want to think about what he’s implying by teaching me. It’s his calmness that’s scaring the hell out of me.

“Are you going to punish me?”

“Shh…” His breath is warm on my neck. “Let’s call it a lesson, not a punishment.”

A scream rips from my throat as his fangs sink roughly into my neck, tearing through my flesh like a knife.

I try to move, to get away from his wicked teeth—but my body won’t bulge.

Something’s holding me down. Some strange force.

“Stay still, piccolo. It’s easier that way… for both of us.” he groans against my neck.

This has to be a nightmare. It can’t be real.

“Please… stop… I’ll never try to run away again…”

My voice breaks into a whimper as I fight the invisible force holding me in place on his thigh.

My pleas fall on deaf ears as he gulps my blood like a starving animal.

The smell of blood clings to the air as i breathe out through my mouth.

This is it. He’s going to kill me… drain the life out of me.

He pauses and I feel his fangs pull away from my neck, his breath ragged, blood dripping from his mouth.

His eyes are black now as he stares at me with glazed eyes, veins snaking down his pale face.

“I can’t stop,” he rasps, bringing unnaturally pale hands to wipe a tear from my cheek. “Not when your blood is this addictive.”

He kisses the wound on my neck, and I shudder as he blows air over it, numbing the sting.

But before I can speak—he’s already sinking his fangs back in.

And this time, the pain is ten times worse.

I try to scream again, but nothing comes out.

The pain of his fangs on my neck is so intense, the room blurs in my vision as an earth shattering headache makes its way to my head.

I hear him whisper into my neck, words that fades into oblivion as darkness pulls me in.

A distant voice stirs me awake and a strange ringing in my ears.

“Bella? I think she’s waking up.”

That’s Matteo.

Marco follows quickly. “You think? It’s been five days now.”

Five days?

I’ve been unconscious for five days?

What else did he take while I was out?

How much of me is left?

My eyes flutter open.

The room is dim. Matteo hovers near the bed.

I glance down—

There’s an IV stuck in my wrist.

“Don’t move too much, bella. You lost a lot of blood. How do you feel?” Marco asks, grabbing my hand.

The image of black irises and bloody fangs flashes in my mind.

“We’re so sorry,” Matteo says softly. “I promised you’d be safe… and now look at you. I’m sure you’ll never trust us again.”

I just stare, my throat suddenly dry and raw like it’s stuffed with ash.

“You’re like him, aren’t you? You’re all bloodsuckers.”

Why didn’t I come to that conclusion the moment I first saw them?

They’re so pale it’s almost sickly.

“We’ll never hurt—”

“Oh please,” another voice cuts through the silence.

“If she didn’t try to run, she wouldn’t have ended up like this. She deserves everything she got and more.”

Our gazes snap to the door as Petra strolls in like she owns the place.

“You need to leave. This isn’t the time,” Marco’s tone cuts sharply.

Ignoring him completely, Petra sinks into the couch, with a smug smile in place.

“The new pet’s been unconscious for five whole days,” she purrs. “Imagine what’ll happen when he really starts feeding on her.

She’s weak. And filthy.”

“Get out!” Marco explodes, and honestly, it’s the first time I’ve seen him like this. You’d almost think he cares.

But in reality, they’re all the same.

Petra twitches, then stands, pretending to act unbothered.

“Bye, little pet. Let’s just hope there’s enough of you left next time to recognize the corpse.”

Petra’s voice oozes Rotten, smug sweetness.

And just like that, she’s gone.

No one says anything after she leaves—and honestly, that makes me feel a little better.

It’s hard enough just surviving. I don’t have energy to care why some woman hates me.

Marco feeds me soup, and afterward, they exit the room with a promise to check on me later.

I almost snort.

What I need is to get out of here.

But now, I can’t.

I yank the IV from my wrist, ignoring the sting, and stumble to the window.

My chest sinks as I pull back the curtains, only to find all four corners of the frame sealed tightly with metal bolts.

Tears sting my eyes when I see a butterfly clinging to the glass from outside.

Something urges me to try the door.

The boys wouldn’t lock me in—

All my hope dies in my throat as I twist the knob.

They locked me in.

For a second, I’m back in that cage at Drevane, hearing the girls crying and begging to be set free.

I smell the rot of my dank cell.

Falling on my knees, I don’t stop the bile from rising in my throat as it spills onto the red carpet floor.

Vomit clings to my tongue as I shake, hugging myself, barely breathing as another wave splashes the carpet, staining my knees.

This isn’t Drevane.

This is worse.

Because now I’m in a fancier cage.

One dressed in velvet curtains, guarded by armed men.

I’ve been reduced to a blood bank for a creature that shouldn’t even exist.

And I hate him.

I hate him more than the devil.

And worst of all? I don’t think I’ll ever leave this place alive.