Chapter 5

Three days.

Three. Miserable. Days.

That’s how long I’ve been stuck in this marble coffin they call a palace, scrubbing floors that never get dirty, serving creatures who could end me with a flick of their wrist, and pretending I don’t hear the whispers.

“That’s her, the hybrid one.”

“How is she still alive?”

“She must have bewitched them.”

The servants don’t even try to hide their disgust anymore. I hear them when I pass the hallways, see the way they press themselves against the walls as if my very presence might stain them.

I don’t blame them, though. If I weren’t me, I’d probably be scared too.

Still, it doesn’t make it easier. Every glance, every hushed insult, every task meant to break me, builds, like pressure beneath my skin testing my control.

“This place is a nightmare,” I mutter under my breath, setting down a tray of silver goblets in the council dining room.

“Correction,” Nyme purrs lazily in my head, “a beautifully gothic nightmare with shirtless supernatural rulers.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not the one staring at the Vampire Lord every time he speaks.”

“I’m not staring!”

“Liar.”

I ignore her and focus on arranging the goblets. The palace is breathtaking, towering black pillars veined with silver, chandeliers that float midair, windows that open to endless mist. If I wasn't a prisoner, I would definitely enjoy it

The rulers barely acknowledge me, yet somehow I feel them everywhere.

Kaelen, the Alpha, is the worst. He treats me like an inconvenience, barking orders, making me scrub his training grounds at dawn, and glaring every time I breathe too loudly.

It's taken all my control not to snap and lash out at him.

Valrik, the Vampire Lord, is… complicated. He rarely speaks, but when he does, it's to tease me. He loves mind games, I'll give him that. His eyes follow me like he’s memorizing the rhythm of my heartbeat.

And Caelir, the Fae Prince—well, he smiles too much for someone so deadly. There’s always a flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he’s in on some cosmic joke I don’t understand.

I sigh and glance down at my hands. They’re raw from work, trembling slightly. The silvery-blue strands of my hair fall over my shoulder, catching the faint glow of the candles. No matter how tightly I tie it, it still shimmers like moonlight.

The very thing that makes me different is the reason I’m here. The reason they call me cursed.

The doors creak open behind me. My body goes rigid.

“Still alive, I see,” Valrik’s voice drawls, smooth and dark as velvet.

I turn slowly, bowing my head like the servants taught me. “My Lord.”

His boots click against the marble as he circles the table, stopping a few feet from me. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m cold,” I lie.

His lips twitch. “Liar.”

Before I can respond, the door opens again. Kaelen strides in, smelling faintly of pine and storm, irritation written across every sharp line of his face. “She hasn’t finished?”

“She’s not your soldier to command, Alpha,” Valrik says, his tone dripping with mockery. “Though you seem to forget that.”

Kaelen growls low in his throat. “She’s our servant. If she’s slacking, it reflects on all of us.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but Caelir glides in next, all effortless grace and danger wrapped in silk. “Now, now, no need to fight over the little hybrid. She’s far too fragile to handle your shouting, Kaelen.”

His words sound teasing, but there’s something sharp underneath.

Valrik smirks. “Fragile isn’t the word I’d use.”

Kaelen’s amber gaze flicks to me. “Get out. Before I change my mind about sparing you.”

I nod quickly, lowering my head, and rush toward the door. But just as I reach it, I hear Valrik’s voice—low, calm, cutting through the air like smoke.

“Don’t mistake survival for mercy, little trouble.”

I freeze, his words sinking into my bones.

When I finally step into the hallway, the whispers return, softer this time but heavier.

“She’s cursed.”

“The rulers marked her. She won’t last the week.”

“The curse of the Moon is already taking hold.”

I clutch the edge of my apron and walk faster, ignoring the chill that slides down my spine.

Because deep down, I know they’re right.

Something inside me is changing. My dreams have been darker, filled with whispers I can’t understand and glowing chains that pulse beneath my skin.

And every time one of them—Kaelen, Valrik, or Caelir—gets too close…the mark on my throat burns hotter.

I'm living a nightmare!

~~~

My chamber — if you can even call it that — is a glorified cell. A narrow stone room, damp and cold, with a single slit of a window that lets in barely enough light to tell day from night. My meals are brought to me like I’m some kind of dangerous animal. No one talks to me. Not even the guards.

I sit on the edge of my bed, tracing the glowing mark on my collarbone. It hasn’t faded. It hums quietly beneath my skin — a constant reminder that I’m not free. That I’m tied to them.

A sharp knock rattles the metal door.

Before I can answer, it creaks open, and a servant girl steps inside. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with something that looks a lot like fear.

“L… Liora,” she stammers, refusing to look at me directly. “The Vampire Lord requests your presence in his chambers.”

My heart skips. “Requests?” I echo. “That’s one way to put it.”

She swallows. “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Of course not. No one keeps Valrik waiting.

I rise slowly, tugging the thin cloak tighter around me. My hands tremble, but I pretend it’s from the cold. “Lead the way,” I murmur.

The servant bows quickly and turns. I follow her through winding stone corridors lit by torches that flicker blue instead of gold , enchanted flames, eerie and cold. The deeper we go, the thicker the air becomes. It smells faintly of smoke and blood.

When we stop before an enormous black door carved with strange symbols, the servant bows again. “He’s expecting you.”

I hesitate. “And if I don’t go in?”

She blanches. “Then he’ll come out.”

Fair enough.

I push the door open.

The room beyond is drenched in shadow and crimson light. Rich velvet curtains frame tall windows, and a fire crackles in the hearth — the only warmth in sight. And there he is.

Valrik.

The Vampire Lord lounges in a chair near the fire, dressed in black that gleams faintly when the flames touch it. His eyes — those impossible blood-red eyes — lift to me immediately, a slow smile curving his mouth.

“Well, well,” he drawls, voice like silk dragged across steel. “The little hybrid finally graces me with her presence.”

I swallow hard. “You sent for me.”

He rises, the movement fluid, predatory. “True. But you took your time.”

“I was told you requested,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

His smirk deepens. “Careful, little trouble. That mouth of yours might get you into more trouble than you can handle.”

I straighten, forcing my trembling hands behind my back. “What do you want from me?”

Lucian circles me slowly, his presence brushing against me like smoke. “What I want?” His tone turns thoughtful. “Let’s start with obedience. Maybe honesty. And perhaps…” He stops behind me, close enough that his breath ghosts over my neck. “…a little entertainment.”

The mark on my collarbone flares suddenly — hot, pulsing. I gasp and stumble forward, clutching it.

Lucian’s low chuckle fills the space. “Ah. So you do feel it.”

“Feel what?” I hiss, trying to steady my breathing.

“The bond, little flame.” His voice softens dangerously. “You can fight it all you want, but it’s there. We’re all tied to you. Me, the Alpha, and the Fae.”

I spin around, glaring at him. “I didn’t ask for this!”

He steps closer, his crimson gaze locking on mine. “Neither did I. But here we are.”

For a moment, the room feels too small. The air too hot. And despite everything — the fear, the anger, the hatred — there’s a pull deep inside me that feels like it’s alive.

Lucian smiles faintly, as if he can hear the chaos in my thoughts. “You’ll get used to it,” he says softly. “Or it’ll destroy you first.”

He turns away, taking a seat on the couch. “Now, be a good girl and make use of the knife and the glass. I'm thirsty.”

“What?" I ask, not sure I understand.

“Your blood, Liora. Or would you rather I fuck instead?"