CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
18
Morwenna
Silence. Thick, suffocating silence pressed down on me like a physical weight. I didn’t dare speak, didn’t even lift my head. The timing of his summons had been a gut punch – completely unexpected.
My gaze stayed stubbornly fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his.
My fingers twisted the fabric of my dress, a nervous habit to distract the churning in my stomach.
Why had he called me here? Punishment, probably. Punishment for storming out during the… ritual (the word felt foreign on my tongue). Or maybe for vanishing like a wisp of smoke (though how I managed that, I have no clue). Whatever the reason, it wasn’t good.
The air crackled with unspoken tension. No one in the line of servants – ten, maybe eleven, I didn’t dare breathe to count – dared to make a sound. The throne room, usually a blur of activity, seemed to hold its breath. I’d never noticed its imposing grandeur before, but then again, fear had a way of sharpening your senses.
His imposing presence filled the room, even from a distance. He sat on a throne that seemed carved from nightmares, a dark reflection of the power he wielded.
A shiver ran down my spine despite the stifling heat.
He hadn’t called us all here for another… ritual. Not this time. Yet, a familiar dread coiled in my gut. Whatever he had planned, I doubted it would be pleasant.
Lady Jen loomed before me, flanked by a silent line of servants.
Draven’s gaze felt like a physical weight on my chest, stealing my breath. What was he thinking? Just then, he broke the suffocating silence.
“I was poisoned today,” he announced, his voice sending a collective gasp rippling through the throne room.
My heart did a little jump. Not that I cared, exactly. But maybe a tiny, traitorous part of me did. Until he added that one agonizing word.
“Almost.”
Relief washed over me so fast it felt like a tidal wave. Was he serious?
He continued, his voice laced with a dangerous amusement. “Funny, isn’t it? Turns out a Chimeran tried to off me.”
Nervous glances darted around the room. Were they worried he was accusing them? As for me, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I hadn’t been here long enough to contemplate poisoning the enigmatic Lord Draven.
My earlier nervous habit of fidgeting with my dress abruptly stopped. Now, I found myself twisting my fingers together, the reason a mystery even to myself.
Draven’s voice rose, a tremor in it that sent shivers down everyone’s spines, including mine. “This ‘human’ mastermind,” he sneered, the air quotes cutting like a knife, “sent a lesser fool to do his dirty work. But here’s the thing they forgot...”
His voice trailed off, leaving a pregnant pause that hammered against my eardrums. He’d said “he,” which meant a man. But if it was a man, why call the servants together? There weren’t any men present. Was he trying to smoke out the actual mastermind, the one who pulled the strings? My mind raced with possibilities. Who could it be?
“I can’t be fooled,” he finished, his voice low and menacing. “Never. And there are always...consequences...for those who try.”
The last word hung heavy in the air, a chilling promise of retribution. A shiver ran down my spine, a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t quite define.
As Draven’s voice thundered through the throne room, anger laced his words, leaving me with a sinking feeling that perhaps his ire was directed at me. Could it be because I had abandoned him during the climax of the sex ritual?
His voice boomed again, a dark storm cloud overhead. “And who among you...” he trailed off, his words heavy with suspicion. I could practically feel his gaze sweeping across the throne room, a physical touch that sent shivers down everyone’s spine. The servants, lined up like dominoes, trembled in unison.
“My Lord, it wasn’t me!” One of them, a wisp of a girl, crumbled to her knees, her voice laced with raw terror. A domino effect. Soon, the floor was a mosaic of weeping women, all desperate to deflect his wrath.
Then, his hand landed. A single, brutal finger pointed at another servant, a woman who froze like a statue caught mid-motion. Her eyes darted between the hand and her accuser, a silent scream trapped in her throat.
“My Lord,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “I-I didn’t mean to...” She stumbled forward, collapsing onto the cold stone floor. Tears streamed down her face, carving clean paths through the grime. “I confess,” she choked out, “I almost put something in your bloodwine. But not to poison you! I just... I wanted you to sleep. It was a chance to escape, to see my sisters again. They think I’m dead, you see? Ten years they’ve been searching. I just wanted to prove I’m alive.” She choked back a sob. “Please forgive me, my Lord. I never meant to harm you.”
The room held its breath. The only sound, the ragged tremor in her voice as she awaited her fate.
Her head hung low, her whole body trembling with a mixture of fear and a desperate hope for mercy.
“What an honest confession,” Draven murmured, his voice a silken rasp. “Who knew honesty could come wrapped in such a desperate plea? You should be thanking me, little one. Ten years I’ve let you walk this earth, a traitor under my roof.”
His words sent shivers down my spine. I’d never seen him this cold, this utterly devoid of amusement.
The servant girl crumpled to the floor, a choked sob escaping her lips. “Please, my Lord, have mercy!”
“Mercy,” he scoffed, the word dripping with disdain. “You’ve had more than your fair share, haven’t you?” With a flick of his wrist, unseen guards materialized around the trembling woman.
Panic clawed at my throat. I’d heard whispers of Draven’s ruthlessness, but this was the first time I’d witnessed it firsthand.
“In my domain,” he continued, his voice low and dangerous, “every action has a consequence. And it seems, my dear, it’s time for yours.”
“No, please,” the servant begged.
“Do you even know the penalty for attempting to poison the King of the Vimics?” Draven cut through her pleas, a cruel amusement flickering in his words. “Attempting, I say, because clearly, your skills leave much to be desired.”
Her choked reply was barely a whisper. “Death.”
A cruel smile played on his lips. “Death it is.”
The guards surged forward, their movements swift and silent.
“Please, my Lord, I won’t do it again. I promise, have mercy—” Before she could finish a glint of metal flashed, followed by a sickening thud. I flinched, my stomach churning as the girl’s ragged cough echoed in the vast chamber.
This was different. This Draven was a stranger, his eyes devoid of the usual playful glint. A cold fear pricked at my skin.
He rose from his throne, his presence a suffocating weight in the air. “I can smell it on all of you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “The stench of deceit. You all have the potential to become just like her.”
His voice echoed through the vast throne room, a chilling pronouncement.
“We will never do such a thing, my Lord.”
Every servant bowed low, their bodies trembling. I stood frozen, the only defiant figure amidst the sea of bent backs. Except for Lady Jen, that conniving witch. Even she knelt, her fear a palpable presence. A cold dread wrapped around my heart. This might be it. My end.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Just as my traitorous knees began to buckle, another guttural growl ripped from his throat. “Kill them all. Every last one.”
Vampire guards materialized from the shadows, their movements swift and predatory. Panic surged through the servants’ ranks. They scrambled to their feet, desperate pleas spilling from their lips. Hands clasped together, they begged for mercy, their faces etched with terror.
Driven by a strange compulsion, I dared to meet Draven’s gaze. A flicker of vulnerability, a raw, wounded emotion, flickered in his crimson eyes – an emotion quickly eclipsed by a surge of bloodlust. My breath hitched. I had expected… hoped… for a flicker of control, of mercy. But there was none.
A choked scream pierced the air as a servant woman crumpled to the floor, a crimson stain blossoming on her back. Her eyes, wide with terror and an innocence that stabbed at my heart, locked with mine for a fleeting moment.
A new sensation flooded my senses – a raw torrent of emotions.
The terror, the desperate pleas for life… it all washed over me.
Every servant in the room, their fear, their desperate hope – it was an overwhelming symphony of emotions.
This… this was impossible.
Yet, with sickening clarity, I understood.
Draven wasn’t fueled by anger, but by a primal hunger, a bloodlust so strong it threatened to consume him.
A primal scream ripped from my throat. “Stop!” It wasn’t a plea, it was a desperate command but the guards continued their merciless assault, their movements fueled by a primal hunger that mirrored Draven’s own.
Driven by a surge of defiance, I marched towards the imposing throne. Only the vast flight of stairs separated me from him. He loomed above, his crimson gaze locked on mine. “S-Stop!” My voice cracked, a desperate plea that echoed through the carnage.
“Stop this madness!” I roared, my voice trembling with a newfound strength. “These are innocent lives you’re taking!”
A humorless scoff ripped from his throat. “Innocence? That’s a luxury none of them deserve.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “Maybe not all, but some! Stop the bloodshed!”
My gaze darted between the remaining three servants and the two monstrous vampire guards who were mopping the floor with their fallen comrades. Lady Jen remained frozen on her knees, the picture of silent despair. The other two servants were petrified, their fear a tangible presence in the air. Running wouldn’t save them anyway; these guards moved with a predatory grace that spoke of centuries of honed brutality.
Draven’s eyes, cold and fathomless, met mine. “They’ll betray me in the end,” he said, his voice a low growl. “All of them.”
A strangled cry tore from the throat of one of the remaining servants. Blood smeared her face and clothes, a stark contrast to the pristine white uniform she’d worn moments ago. She dragged herself forward on her knees, desperate to reach Draven, but a guard shoved her back with a snarl.
“My Lord,” she rasped, her voice raspy with terror, “I would never betray you. Serving you has been my purpose, my life’s work.” A purpose? The raw sincerity in her tear-filled eyes left me breathless. There was no deceit there, just a desperate need to be believed.
She spoke the truth; her service was driven by purpose, much like Theresa’s commitment to the Vimics’ family, seeking protection from creatures. I once questioned why anyone would seek protection from—vampires.
Draven dismissed the woman with a flick of his wrist, a gesture as cold as his eyes.
A sickening crunch echoed through the throne room as a vampire guard plunged his sword into her chest extracting her heart.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips, followed by a gurgle as blood welled from her wound.
I couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
My hand flew up, covering my eyes in a futile attempt to shut out the horror.
The stench of blood, metallic and sharp, filled my nostrils. Nausea burned in my throat. I’d tried to shut out the carnage before, but witnessing this final execution had seared itself into my memory capable of haunting me for the rest of the day, or perhaps the night—I couldn’t discern time in this vampire realm.
Speechless. Utterly terrified. No kidding. Who wouldn’t be after watching ten people get chopped down like wheat? The screams, the sickening thuds of metal sinking into flesh—enough to scar anyone for life. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, thick and suffocating.
But why? Was it the near-poisoning? Did he think every servant here was a potential assassin?
Draven’s eyes were the most horrifying part. Crimson glinted in the aftermath, reflecting the carnage around us. It pinned me to the ground, fear a cold fist squeezing my chest.
My voice barely a whisper, I choked out, “You killed them.” The words felt heavy, each syllable a tiny hammer blow. I dared to steal a glance back at him. “You killed them all...”
The horror sank in as I realized the absence of screams and sword clashes, the lack of pleas for forgiveness or desperate attempts to escape death. Just bodies. The silence was deafening. They were all gone. Dead.
He met my gaze, but the raw terror in my eyes sent me scrambling away.
Of course. Draven was a vampire, laced with a touch of witch. This shouldn’t have surprised me. Even before I became his unwilling servant, whispers swirled around the Vimic family. Dangerous. Monstrous. I’d hoped Theresa, my unwilling stepsister, would spill some secrets, some proof I could use against them. But she remained tight-lipped. Maybe she knew this darkness was a constant companion. Maybe it wouldn’t have surprised her either. Me? I was a wreck.
So why was I so shocked? Why couldn’t I think straight? The horrifying tableau before me, a macabre masterpiece of blood and death, held my brain hostage.
“You’re afraid,” Draven’s voice rumbled, closer than I realized. Too close. Like a phantom, he’d materialized beside me without a sound. His nearness stole my breath, a delicious kind of terror that both repelled and fascinated. My feet, glued to the spot, refused to obey the frantic urge to flee. Magic? Probably. He did have a knack for that.
Then, a finger brushed my chin, feather-light, sending shivers dancing across my skin. His touch was a jolt, followed by a slow lift of my head. My gaze met his – oh god, those eyes. Hungry, predatory, like a beautiful, ravenous beast. Yes, fear had me in its icy grip.
I could only manage a nod in response to his question. Of course, I was terrified. This horrifying incident had robbed me of my ability to think clearly.
A shaky breath escaped my lips. “Why... why did you kill them?”
He muttered something under his breath, a response that could’ve been for me or himself. “You haven’t seen me kill,” he said, a low murmur tinged with something unreadable.
Of course I hadn’t. The very thought made my stomach churn. It was a nightmare I never wanted to wake from.
But the question that hammered in my terrified heart remained. So, who was next? Who would be his next victim?
A single, choked sob escaped my lips.
Me.
My voice trembled as the question spilled out. “Are you going to kill me next? Or are you just waiting for the perfect betrayal before you rip my throat out?”
His grip on my chin tightened at my question, a flicker of something crossing his face before it was masked by an emotionless mask. “I wouldn’t,” he rasped, but it lacked conviction.
I scoffed. “Why not? I’m a ticking time bomb, remember? My blood sings to your kind, a delicious melody that makes you want to tear me apart. Makes perfect sense for me to be dead, right here, right now.” I challenged.
He faltered, a crack in his carefully constructed facade. “I can’t kill you...” The words seemed torn from him, laced with a strange emotion I couldn’t decipher. But could I believe him? His penetrating gaze seemed to read my doubts. “You don’t trust me,” he observed, his eyes probing mine dangerously.
“Trust you?” I scoffed, a humorless laugh bubbling up. “Never. Not you, not any of your kind.”
“So you fear me?” he pressed, his voice a mere thread.
“I’ll ask myself that question. Do I truly fear you, or do I need to fear you?” I whispered. “You and your kind are monsters that deserve to be feared, so of course, I fear you.” My answer was raw and honest.
I tried to look away, but he stopped me. “Don’t, Morwenna!” His voice held a warning, though I couldn’t tell if it was in response to my words or to prevent me from averting my gaze. “Don’t fear me,” he added, his tone pleading.
“I hate you so much it scares me,” I spat, my jaw clenching under his touch. This time, his fingers weren’t gentle. They dug into the bone, a strange caress that sent shivers down my spine despite trying to control myself.
“Go on, then,” I taunted, my voice a low rumble. “End this. End me. I’m a liability anyway.” One wrong move, one betrayal, and I knew I was toast. He knew I wouldn’t. We both did. My defiance was a pathetic attempt at control, a shield against the fear clawing at my insides. He was a vampire, and my blood – oh god, my blood – was a siren song he couldn’t resist.
“Morwenna,” he breathed, his voice a husky whisper against my ear, “shut. Your. Mouth.”
Panic choked my next words. I wanted to scream, to expose him, to warn the entire city about the monsters that lurked in the shadows. But his laughter, sharp and chilling, stopped me cold. It sent goosebumps erupting across my skin, a primal fear that coiled tight in my gut.
“I won’t shut up until I’m out of here, exposing you and your fucking family to the city, telling them how dangerous you—” I trailed off, unable to continue as his terrifying crimson eyes bore into mine, and another chuckle escaped his lips, sending shivers down my spine. I had just revealed my intentions—not that I needed to, but because he could pry into my thoughts.
“This... was exactly how we first met, Morwenna. You were willing to expose me, and now you work for me,” he remarked.
“I’m only working for you because you framed me. If not, I wouldn’t even step foot in your fucking home. Never,” I retorted.
“Or... I chose you to be mine,” he asserted possessively, his voice a blend of dark amusement and seriousness.
“I’m not yours,” I interjected firmly.
“You’re mine,” he countered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. The last word, a harsh decree, stole the breath from my lungs. “You always have been.” He added, his touch on my jaw possessive as he drew closer. His lips grazed my jawline, still firmly holding me in his grasp, and he lightly nipped at it with his teeth.
My heart skipped a beat. I hated him. I didn’t want him. I shouldn’t desire him. But when his hands roamed my body, all I could think was, I want him—all of him beneath me. Fuck those dirty thoughts that plagued my mind relentlessly.
“I’m not yours!” I exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a breathy moan. “And I’ll never be yours. I’ll leave this damn fucking place soon,” I vowed.
His lips paused in their exploration of my jawline, one eyebrow raised as he met my gaze. “There’s one rule you should remember, Morwenna,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress laced with steel. “Don’t even think about escaping. Your little trespassing act was cute, but this is my manor, my fortress. Wishful thinking won’t get you out of here.”
The last words were a harsh reminder of my reality. Trapped.
He was right.
I felt trapped, like a fly caught in honey. Leaving felt like a distant dream, a fantasy whispered on the wind. Hating this vulnerability, this lack of control, gnawed at me.
I’m Morwenna Petrova, master planner, weaver of elaborate escape routes.
Except this time, the target was me, and escape seemed more like a fairy tale than reality.
Every touch, every kiss, every goddamn thing he did unraveled me faster than a moth in a flame.
“There’s no way out,” echoed in my head, a mantra on repeat. Even my own subconscious seemed to mock me, whispering traitorous thoughts against escape.
Surrender. That’s the word that kept circling, a dark bird with a hypnotic song. Surrender everything. Body, soul, the tangled mess of my thoughts... all of it.
But the defiance in me, the fire that had always fueled my escapes, flickered stubbornly.
Never.
Not that easily.
“I don’t care. I’m going to find a way out,” I declared unwavering. Maybe a part of me still clung to that ridiculous hope. Like a fly buzzing against a window, wishful thinking wouldn’t leave me alone. The more I indulged it, the more a flimsy escape plan began to form in my head, a house of cards just waiting for a gust of reality.
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “We’ll see about that, Morwenna,” he drawled, his voice a husky challenge. Then, with lightning speed, his lips were on mine. Not a kiss, but a brutal claim, stealing my breath in a single, sharp gasp.
Damn him. Not now. Not when I was so close to crafting a way out.
Frustration sparked a fire in my core, and I shoved against his chest. But he was a mountain, unyielding. His hand, strong and calloused, tangled in my hair, tilting my head back with a possessiveness that sent shivers down my spine.
Before I could protest further, his tongue invaded my mouth, a forceful exploration that sent a jolt through me.
My body, a traitor against my will, melted into his touch.
But deep down, a different voice roared, a primal need to resist.
He tasted like sin – dark chocolate and something wildly intoxicating.
As he drew back, a low groan escaped my lips, a sound I instantly regretted.
His eyes, molten gold, held a predatory glint that both terrified and thrilled me.
“Beautiful,” he rasped, his voice a caress against my ear.
Beautiful, yes. But also dangerous. A predator circling his prey.
Heat radiated from my body, searing through my resolve.
Before I could blink, his lips were back on mine, this time in a slow, deliberate kiss that stole my breath with its raw hunger.
It wasn’t tenderness, but a dominance that sent shivers down my spine. A delicious torture that whispered promises of damnation in my ear.
A traitorous part of me didn’t want it to end. But another, stronger part knew this was a fire I couldn’t afford to get burned by.
No, I wanted it to stop. He fucking killed innocent people right in front of me, and yet he keeps claiming no one’s innocent. It should have been a horror movie-level red flag, screaming “RUN!” at the top of its lungs. Instead, Draven, with his dark eyes and that dangerous aura, just... terrified me in a way that was weirdly intoxicating.
There, I said it. Intoxicating. Doesn’t that sound messed up? One minute I’m watching him turn the world red, the next I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. My traitorous body craves his touch, even after everything.
But...
There always has to be a ‘but’ in every scenario.
But... I’m into him. Into this monstrous version of him.
My body craves him.
I hate him... that still stands, but I want him. Doesn’t that sound fucked up?
But beneath it all, a new, unwelcome heat flares. The kiss. It was a war zone in there, his tongue a forceful explorer, leaving me breathless. It felt like there was a storm brewing beneath his touch, a darkness he held tightly leashed.
Then, just as abruptly as it started, it ended. His lips retreated, leaving me gasping for air, the silence thick and heavy.
His face hovered close, my ragged breaths warming his skin, and I swear, a flicker of a smile played on his lips.
His voice, a low rumble against my ear, sent shivers down my spine. “Your breaths turn me on, Morwenna,” Draven murmured, his thumb stroking circles on my scalp. “And those breaths belong to me alone. They’re the breaths you’ll be taking when you scream my name, gasping for air when my dick moves inside you.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, a traitorous warmth despite the scowl I tried to fix on my face.
Dirty thoughts, unwelcome and vivid, flickered to life. I shouldn’t want him. Not after everything. But denial was a losing battle. Draven had this way of getting under my skin, igniting a storm of conflicting emotions.
One minute, I craved his touch, the fire in his eyes.
The next, I wanted to shove him away, remind myself of the reasons why this couldn’t work.
“Thinking about it, aren’t you, love?” he purred, his voice a caress that sent shivers down my spine. Damn him and his uncanny ability to read my mind.
“Stop it,” I mumbled, the word barely a squeak.
A wry smile played on his lips. “Don’t lie, Morwenna. I can feel it in your every ragged breath.”
He was right, of course. My body betrayed me, a constant hum of awareness thrumming beneath the surface. But the possessiveness in his voice, the dark edge that promised violence, sent a jolt of fear through me.
Then, in a hungry tone, Draven continues, his hand still stroking my hair. “Fucking you will be an unforgettable experience, baby. Let those dirty thoughts consume you. Because when I’ll take you, when your moans echo in this room, that’s all I want to hear,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “Until you come on my dick and I come on your fucking dripping pussy, and I cut off the heads of anyone else who dares come for you.”
A beat of pause follows, the raggedness of my breaths filling the silence as he utters even more dangerous words, “Even if that includes Daniel Alder!”
Wait... Daniel.
My heart skips a beat. He knew Daniel. But how? I don’t remember ever telling him Daniel’s name, so how did he find out? That could be a question for another time because, with Draven, he always has his ways.
His voice oozes with envy, lust, wrath, and jealousy, all intertwined together. He truly embodies all those sins. But one nagging question leaves me speechless: How did he know Daniel... and how did he find out?
Then he reveals, “And that’s whom I’m going to kill for thinking he can poison me,” causing my heart to skip a beat. So, wait, all this time, it was Daniel he was referring to? I literally had no idea. But how was Dan able to slip past Vimic’s security?
No wonder Draven was jealous. He killed all those servants out of anger and jealousy.
I try to piece together the logic until it forms a coherent picture: Draven’s jealousy for me equals Daniel’s impending death.
Oh no... Daniel.