Chapter 5
When I woke, the first thing I felt was the absence of Volken.
The room was drenched in twilight that soft in-between moment before night truly began, and the bed beside me was empty. Cold. But his scent lingered on the sheets: smoke, steel, and something darker that I couldn’t name.
I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, my body still thrumming with the echoes of last night. God, last night.
The memory came in fragments. The heat of his hands.
The command in his voice. The way the world had seemed to shatter and reform around us when his fangs had pierced my skin.
I should’ve been terrified, but instead, I had felt alive.
Too alive. Like the blood in my veins was no longer my own but something ancient and wild, pulsing with him.
My fingers went to my neck, tracing the faint mark there. It didn’t hurt, but it hummed. A pulse that matched my heartbeat and his, even though he wasn’t here.
I should have been running. Any sane woman would’ve been halfway to another country by now. But there was a pull in my chest, deep and unrelenting. Like an invisible thread had tied me to him. I could almost feel him, far away, awake and dangerous.
And, God help me… part of me missed him.
I sat up slowly, my head light, my thoughts tangled. “You don’t even know him,” I whispered to myself. “You don’t know what being with someone like him means.”
But the bond didn’t care about reason. It tugged, gently but constantly, whispering one truth I couldn’t ignore, you’re his now.
Sighing, I pushed back the sheets and stood.
My body ached in places that reminded me just how real last night had been.
Every muscle hummed, tender and alive, a pulsing reminder of Volken’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at me like I was both worship and war.
My legs felt like jelly, and I muttered, “Yeah, Runa, fall for a vampire…great plan.”
I ran a hand through my hair, wincing when my fingers caught in the tangles.
My reflection in the ornate mirror across the room didn’t help, I looked like I’d survived a tornado made of sex and confusion.
There were faint marks on my collarbone, darker ones trailing down where his mouth had been, and the sight alone sent a shiver through me.
With a soft groan, I tore my eyes away and reached for my clothes.
My jeans from yesterday were a lost cause, they were ripped at the knee and smeared with grime from the rooftop.
I found one of Volken’s shirts instead, oversized and smelling faintly of him, cedar, smoke, and something darker that shouldn’t have been comforting, but was.
Pulling it over my head, I rolled the sleeves up past my elbows, muttering under my breath, “Bonded or not, I’m still my own person. He doesn’t get to dress me by proxy.”
My heart, of course, didn’t agree. It was already thudding faster, like it knew I was about to go find him.
I slipped on the socks I was wearing last night, and made my way to the door. The mansion was quiet in that heavy, velvety way that meant that most of the vampires were most probably still asleep, the air cool and faintly scented with leather and something metallic beneath.
As I padded down the sweeping staircase, my pulse picked up again. I wasn’t sure if I was looking for Volken because I wanted answers… or because I just wanted to see him.
The mansion was quiet as I stepped into the hall, the walls high and shadowed, lined with oil paintings that looked centuries old. The kind of place you could get lost in, or be hunted in.
I followed the faint hum of voices until I reached the main hall.
The space was massive, two stories high, lit with chandeliers that dripped gold light over polished marble. I froze when I saw them, a woman with dark hair pulled loosely over her shoulder, standing beside a man whose presence made the air seem to still around him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his eyes were dark and sharp, they flicked toward me with the kind of focus that made my stomach drop. Even before he spoke, I knew this had to be one of Volken’s brothers.
The woman smiled first, soft and warm. “You must be Runa,” she said. “I’m Layla.”
Her voice immediately put me at ease. She didn’t move like a predator; she moved like someone who’d learned to dance with one and survived it.
“Uh… hi,” I said awkwardly, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I guess Volken forgot to mention he lives in a Gothic cathedral.”
Layla laughed, actually laughed, and the tension in my shoulders eased a little. “It does feel like that sometimes,” she said. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”
The man beside her tilted his head slightly. “Volken finally found his mate,” he said. His tone wasn’t unfriendly, just measured and controlled.
Layla shot him a look. “Roman.”
He sighed, almost imperceptibly. “What my mate means is… welcome.”
I blinked. Mate. Right. That word again.
“Thank you,” I said softly, unsure what else to say.
Layla stepped closer, her eyes kind. “He’ll take care of you, you know,” she said. “They all do, once they’ve bonded. It’s… intense at first. Overwhelming, even. But you’ll find your footing.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the air shifted, it changed.
The door opened behind me, and I felt it before I saw him. That same electric pull in my chest, the invisible tether tightening as his presence filled the room.
Volken.
His footsteps were slow, deliberate, the weight of them pulling at something deep inside me. I turned, breath catching.
He was every bit the storm I remembered, tall, dark, his eyes glacial and burning all at once. And the moment his gaze found me, everything else disappeared.
“Volken,” Layla said, smiling faintly. “Your mate was just…”
She didn’t finish.
Because Volken crossed the space between us in three long strides, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he pulled me against him. His mouth crashed into mine, fierce and claiming, and the sound that tore from my throat was half gasp, half surrender.
The world went silent. The kiss was fire and possession and relief all tangled into one, and for a second, I forgot anyone else existed.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. “You shouldn’t be walking around alone,” he growled softly, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Not here. Not yet.”
I blinked up at him, stunned, my lips tingling, my mind a mess of heat and confusion.
“I didn’t know I was a prisoner here.” I mutter angrily.
Behind us, Layla cleared her throat, and I could feel the smirk in her voice. “Well,” she said, glancing at Roman, “looks like Volken’s just as subtle as ever.”
Roman only grunted. “He’s a Dragic,” he said dryly. “Subtlety isn’t in the blood.”
Volken ignored them, his attention fixed on me, eyes softer now but no less intense. “You’re safe here,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. “You’ll always be safe here. I just want to make sure you have someone with you at the beginning so you don’t get lost.”
And somehow, even though I barely knew this man, this creature, I believed him.
That terrified me more than any demon ever could. Because standing this close to him, seeing him in full light for the first time, I understood what danger was supposed to look like…and how badly I wanted to touch it anyway.
Volken was devastating.
The kind of handsome that didn’t belong in reality, too sharp, too deliberate.
His jaw was carved in clean lines, shadowed by the faintest trace of stubble.
His mouth was firm, sensual in a way that made my stomach twist, and his eyes…
God, his eyes, were the pale, cold blue of glacial ice.
The kind that could freeze a man’s blood or melt your resolve in one look.
He still wore the black glasses I’d glimpsed before, though now I could see they weren’t for show.
They dulled the faint glow in his gaze, the mark of what he was.
But even with them, there was no hiding the predatory sharpness that lingered beneath.
His hair, long enough to brush his collar, was dark as a raven’s wing, and when the light caught it, I could see faint silver strands woven through. Not age, but battle. Experience.
My eyes trailed down, catching on the edge of the ink that peeked out from beneath his black shirt, tattoos that wound up his neck, curling like shadows. I couldn’t make out the symbols, but they looked ancient, like runes meant to protect or destroy. Maybe both.
He was raw power wrapped in restraint, a contradiction of danger and calm. And somehow, I knew instinctively that if anyone ever laid a hand on me, this man would kill everyone in his path until he found me.
And that was the problem, because I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want him.
The sound of footsteps drew my attention away. Volken turned slightly, his hand still possessively resting on the small of my back as more people entered the room.
The first was a man dressed sharp-suited, ice-eyed, his presence colder but somehow steadier than Volken’s storm.
Beside him, was a beautiful redheaded woman that walked with a quiet confidence, her red hair gleaming under the chandelier’s light.
She smiled the moment she saw me, warmth in her gaze that reminded me of Layla’s earlier welcome.
Then a mountain of a man appeared, a grin already curling his lips, his golden hair tied back, tattoos snaking across his hands like lightning frozen in skin. Behind him came one last man that was bigger than the rest, darker, a wall of muscle and shadow whose eyes gleamed with quiet menace.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The room felt charged, humming with power that didn’t belong to this world.
Volken’s hand tightened slightly at my back as they approached, his voice low and steady. “These are my brothers,” he said. “Roman, Lucien, Viking and Draugr.” He presented as he pointed to each man. “and Layla you have already met, this here is Sorcha.”