001 || Welcome To Hell, Ember

EMBER

“Gods, you're too big. I can't—"

"Yes, you can, firefly. Take it. All of me."

His voice was a low growl that vibrated through my bones. He pushed deeper, his thick cock filling me until I thought I would split apart.

I was drowning in him. So in love with him, it hurt.

I tried to say his name. My lips formed the shape, but nothing came. This wasn’t right.

I knew this man. I loved him with every shattered piece of my soul. So why couldn't I remember his bloody name?

"Wait—" I gasped, my nails digging into his sculpted back.

His thumb found my throbbing center, circling until I sobbed.

I reached for his name again, desperate, but the climax wiped out every thought. I screamed, clenching around him as white-hot pleasure tore me apart.

I awoke with a jolt. I was lying on a cold floor, my body aching. Where…where am I? I thought.

My chest heaved, my thighs slick with sweat, my core pulsing with shameful arousal.

I froze when I saw the bars in front of me.

A cell?

What the—

Chains rattled as I scrambled upright. The cell door screeched open, and torchlight lit the place, revealing two figures. One of them was built like a mountain. The other was slimmer and hooded.

“She's awake," the hooded one said, pleased. “Perfect."

I swallowed hard. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The hooded figure moved closer and I shuffled backwards. Pale hands emerged from the sleeves, his sharp nails glinting. "Questions already. How lovely."

The second figure unlocked the wall chain but left the manacles. "Black Auction. You're tonight's prize. Your previous owner was paid in full."

Previous owner? Oh gods…. I’m a slave?

My name… what is it? Why can’t I remember?

The guard seized my arm and hauled me upright. Pain shot through my body.

“Let go," I cried out, twisting.

He smirked. "Fight all you want. They pay extra for a good fighting spirit."

No. No. No.

They dragged me down a dark passage, ignoring my pathetic attempts to dig my heels into the floor and stay unmoving.

The air grew warmer, thick with smoke and the smell of wine. I could hear the roar of voices ahead.

Bile rose up the back of my throat.

Heavy curtains were parted, and they shoved me onto a raised wooden platform lit by floating violet orbs.

The sudden glare blinded me. When my vision cleared, I saw the crowd.

Monsters.

Every nightmare made flesh. Horns curled from temples. Eyes glowed in every shade of unnatural. Claws tapped crystal goblets.

And every single one stared at me like I was meat.

My pulse turned chaotic, and breathing became a chore.

I felt exposed in a threadbare gray dress, sweat making the fabric cling to my skin.

My legs shook, but I locked my knees and lifted my chin. I wouldn’t show weakness. Not in the midst of predators.

On the opposite stage, a gaunt vampire in silver robes raised his arms.

“Lot thirteen!" His voice pierced through the noise. "Human female, early twenties. Memory-wiped for your convenience."

A hungry murmur rippled outward.

“Observe the defiance in her stance," he crooned. "She will fight beautifully before she yields. Bidding opens at fifty thousand bloodmarks."

They were selling me as a whore? Over my dead body.

Paddles shot up. Numbers flew.

“Sixty!"

“Eighty!"

“One hundred thousand!"

I scanned the crowd, searching for mercy, for a means of escape, for any face I could recognize. But there was none.

Tears pricked my eyes. How did I end up here?

What did I do to deserve this?

“Stay upright," the guard growled when I sagged slightly.

“Don't touch me," I snapped, my voice shaking.

He chuckled. "Soon someone else will do far worse."

I gagged, revolted, frowning in confusion when a strange silence filled the air.

A single deadly voice cut through the hall, familiar in a way that made my knees threaten to give out.

"One million."

In the highest shadowed box, a figure stood.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long, black hair falling to his shoulders. And his eyes were crimson. They were fixed on me with pure, frozen hatred.

My heart skipped.

I knew that face. I knew that voice. I had loved—

How could this be?

There was no warmth there. Only a deep loathing that sent an icy sensation down my spine.

He descended the steps without hurry, his thick furry coat sweeping the floor. The crowd parted in silence. Gods, he was more intimidating and even more beautiful than I thought.

Who was this man?

When he reached the bottom of the stage, he stared up at me blankly.

The auctioneer's voice trembled. "Sold to Azai Rankai, the Blood Alpha, for one million bloodmarks."

Azai Rankai.

Such a memorable name.

He did not speak. He simply looked at me as if I were something vile that had been dragged into his presence.

I was dragged down to kneel before him, a collar wrapped around my neck. I barely noticed it. A slave to my own emotions. That’s what I’d become.

Slowly, he crouched, and his scent hit me. He smelled like spring. Being this close to him made me feel…safe. Like I was finally home after a very long, tiring journey.

“Clearly, you did not run far enough,” he said.

His voice matched his appearance. Beautiful and regal. Yet it was stripped of every trace of tenderness I'd felt in the dream.

"I don't know you,” I rasped.

His lips curled. "You will."

He reached into his coat and withdrew a heavy silver ring with a blood-red stone. He seized my left hand. I tried to jerk away, but the guard held me immobile.

Azai gently slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, but his touch stung my flesh like frostbite. He was unbearably icy.

"What is this?" I demanded, my voice shaking.

"A debt," he replied. "And a death sentence."

Oh gods….

"Why me?"

His cold eyes bored into mine, glimmering with a hatred so thick I could taste it.

"Because you destroyed me once," he said, his voice low enough that only I heard. "And I intend to return the favour, one piece of you at a time."

He leaned in then. And I had to fight the urge to moan as his scent serenaded me.

"Welcome to Hell, Ember. I’ll enjoy watching you burn in it,” he whispered, his soft lips brushing my earlobe.

He knows my name.

It’s really him. The man from my dream.

Tears welled up, streaming down my cheeks unbidden, because I could tell that he meant it.

"Take her," Azai commanded, straightening, the silver teardrop earring at his right ear dangling.

The guard hauled me up, and I stumbled.

"Move," he barked.

I dug my heels in.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

That made Azai pause. Slowly... he looked back.

"Move her."

Before I could react, the guard shoved me forward.

"No—wait—!"

Everything that happened next was a blur.

By the time we got to his residence, I was barely breathing. The place was massive. Like a palace. Guards were stationed everywhere.

I was dragged along a dark hallway, and the further we went, the colder it became. My breath fogged in front of me, my skin prickling.

"Where are you taking me?" I croaked, feeling dizzy and sick from nerves.

"You'll see," he said, and fear swallowed me.

He slammed a thick wooden door open, and I was instantly greeted by a blast of cold air. It was a freezing chamber, I realized.

"W-where..." My teeth chattered. "Where am I?"

Azai's eyes were fixed on me, empty. My throat tightened.

He pulled me forward by the wrist, his grip so tight I thought he would break my bones.

"Wait—!" I stumbled, my bare feet sliding. "You're hurting me!"

He stopped abruptly, and I nearly collided with him.

In front of us stood what looked like a coffin. It was long and narrow, carved from what looked like ice.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw what was inside.

A little boy, no older than three. Dark lashes rested against his pale cheeks, his small chest unmoving.

"No," I breathed. "Who—who is that?"

Azai didn't answer. Before I could react, he sliced a blade across my palm. I screamed from the pain.

Azai forced my hand over a shallow stone basin set before the coffin.

"Stop—!" I thrashed. "Please, stop!"

My blood spilled into the basin, steaming as it hit the rune-etched metal. The symbols glowed, crimson light racing towards the coffin, feeding into it like veins.

I collapsed with a sob, ripping my hand back and scrambling away on numb limbs.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"That," he deadpanned, pointing at the coffin, "is exactly what I want to know."

“How," he stalked towards me, "does a mother try to murder her own child?"