Morning light trickled into the stone hallways of Ravenshade, casting golden patterns on the floor where shadows once danced with secrets. The manor looked calm… but beneath the stillness, the storm brewed again.
Seraphine stood near the rose courtyard, her fingers brushing against the dew-kissed petals, her mind still tangled in the memory of last night. Alaric's touch. His promises. His fangs on her skin. The way they melted into each other—heart and soul.
She barely had a moment to breathe when footsteps echoed with familiar sharpness.
Lady Jane.
Poised and proud, her gown swept across the marble as if she were royalty reborn. Behind the false kindness in her smile was the same venom Seraphine had tasted once before.
"You seem well-rested," Lady Jane remarked coldly.
Seraphine turned slowly, keeping her expression neutral. "I am."
"I'm glad," Lady Jane said, then took a calculated step closer. "Because I came to remind you... this isn't your home. Your presence here is making Celestine deeply uncomfortable. As her mother, I cannot watch her suffer."
Seraphine's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Suffer? Or fail?"
Lady Jane's smile twitched.
"You know as well as I do," she continued, voice low, "that you have no place here. You're a former servant. A... blemish from the Delacroix house. You've always lived on borrowed kindness, Seraphine."
Seraphine clenched her fists at her sides, knuckles white. Her eyes sparkled with quiet fire as she stood straighter.
"Unless the Duke himself tells me to leave," she said, voice steady, "I won't move an inch. I've suffered enough humiliation to last lifetimes. I'm not going to disappear just because Celestine is fragile."
Lady Jane's nostrils flared, but her mask remained intact.
"I see," she said, turning on her heel. "Then the Council shall decide."
---
It didn't take long.
By evening, a Council courier arrived on black horse, bearing the royal sigil. He dismounted with a flourish and handed a sealed parchment to Alaric's steward. The air turned heavy as the letter was opened.
The contents were clear and damning.
> "Lady Seraphine Delacroix is hereby ordered to return to the Bride Pool by sunrise. Her presence in Ravenshade estate is in violation of matrimonial customs and threatens the delicate order of the Council's proceedings. She is to report at once for reassessment, pending removal."
The letter bore the Council's waxed seal—a stamp of cruelty disguised as law.
Seraphine stood beside Carlos in the grand hall, reading the words without blinking, though her heart pounded like a war drum.
Alaric read it once, then crumpled it in his hand.
Without waiting, he strode toward his study and wrote his reply in sharp, decisive strokes:
> "Lady Seraphine is under the protection of House Vaelthorne. She is also the fiancée of Carlos Mendez, a close ally of the Duke. Her presence at Ravenshade is both permitted and endorsed by my estate. Thus, she is exempt from the Bride Pool reassessment.
– Duke Alaric Vellaria Vaelthorne"
When the letter was handed to the messenger, Alaric didn't stop there. He walked back into the hall and stood before Seraphine, his voice echoing across the marble.
"They can send a thousand letters," he said calmly. "But you are not leaving this estate unless you choose to."
Seraphine looked up at him, heart hammering.
"And I choose to stay," she whispered.
Carlos nodded, stepping beside her. "I will ensure her safety."
The moment the words were spoken, Alaric's jaw clenched—but he said nothing. For now, the charade was necessary. The Council couldn't know of their bond—not yet. But the jealousy simmered beneath his skin.
Lady Jane, who had been watching from the corridor shadows, paled with fury. Her plan had backfired. The girl she once controlled had become a woman who would no longer bow.
The moon hung low over Ravenshade.
In the west wing, a pair of conspirators whispered behind closed doors.
"She will not remain an obstacle forever," Lady Jane said, eyes sharp with determination as she poured a vial of rose-pink liquid into a teacup. It shimmered faintly, like stardust caught in a swirl of blood.
"Are you certain it will work?" Celestine asked, adjusting her curls in the mirror. "He's not just any man… he's Alaric Vaelthorne."
Lady Jane's lips curled. "This love elixir was brewed from black lotus and demon's root—it's powerful enough to lower any Elite's defenses. Even a dormant vampire like him cannot withstand it forever. You only need to keep him engaged until the potion takes effect. Once he gives in… you'll have him."
Celestine's eyes gleamed with hunger. "Tomorrow night then. Make sure the maid says the tea is from Seraphine."
---
The following evening arrived with eerie silence. The flames in the candelabras flickered higher than usual, and even the manor's walls seemed to hold their breath.
A maid walked carefully down the corridor with a silver tray and a steaming cup of tea. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached Alaric's study and knocked gently.
"My Lord," she said. "Lady Seraphine sends this to you. She thought you might need a moment of calm."
Alaric, deep in reports and resistance letters, glanced up. The moment the scent hit his nose, something stirred—a whisper, subtle but strange.
Still, he took the cup.
It tasted sweet.
Too sweet.
His eyes narrowed.
But it was already too late.
His fangs tingled. His heartbeat—not supposed to beat—began to echo in his ears. A slow heat spread through his chest and down his spine. The potion was working.
"Damn it…" he hissed under his breath. "This… this isn't from her."
Just then, the door creaked open.
Celestine.
Draped in crimson silk, she floated into the room like a practiced enchantress. Her eyes lit up as she saw the half-empty teacup.
Perfect.
"I thought I'd keep you company, Your Grace," she purred, gliding toward him with a coy smile. "You've been so tense lately. Maybe I can help ease your mind?"
Alaric didn't move.
He sat stiffly in his chair, knuckles pale as he clenched the arms. "It's late," he said, voice tight. "You should retire."
Celestine smiled as if he were teasing her.
"Oh, come now. We both know I've been chosen by the Council. You don't have to pretend."
She moved closer, fingers trailing lightly over the edge of his desk. "I've admired you for so long… Just once, can't we speak as man and woman? No titles… no expectations…"
Her perfume—heavy and laced with enchantment—invaded his senses. The love potion burned in his veins like wildfire. He shut his eyes, focusing on every ounce of discipline honed over centuries.
He could endure. Just for an hour.
"I'm tired, Celestine," he said lowly, avoiding her touch. "Perhaps another time."
Celestine blinked, irritation breaking through her polished façade. "You haven't even looked at me."
Still, he did not lift his eyes.
Frustrated, she waited a few moments longer, but Alaric's silence didn't change. To her, it seemed the potion had failed.
With a bitter sigh, she turned on her heel. "Fine. I suppose you're too proud even under affection."
And with a click of her heels, she left, the door softly closing behind her.
Alaric gripped the table, letting out a shaky breath. His skin felt like fire.
But just as he prepared to breathe through the rest of the drug's spell, her scent passed by.
Seraphine.
She was walking the corridor, unaware. Dressed in a thin nightgown, her long hair cascading like moonlight, she paused near the study's door.
She didn't even get to knock.
In a flash, Alaric opened the door, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her in.
"Alaric—?!"
The door slammed shut.
His breath was ragged, his eyes glowing with an unnatural crimson hue. "Don't move," he growled, voice thick and trembling.
Seraphine's heart pounded. "What's going on?"
He stepped back, trying to put distance between them, but his fangs had already descended. "They drugged me."
Her eyes widened. "Who—?"
"Lady Jane and Celestine. They laced the tea… said it was from you."
Seraphine's shock melted into fury, but before she could say another word, he crashed into her. His lips found hers with desperation, as if the very air between them burned.
"I tried," he murmured between kisses. "I fought it. But only you can silence this fire."
Seraphine wrapped her arms around him. "Then take it," she whispered. "But only me."
What followed was a storm—flesh and flame, claw and kiss. He fed on her gently this time, his control wavering but never shattering. And as the love potion tore through him like molten lava, Seraphine was the only anchor keeping him from losing himself.
They made love in the shadows of betrayal, their bodies intertwined in defiance of every scheme.
---
Hours Later…
Their breaths were slow now. Seraphine lay nestled in his arms, both wrapped in furs on the study's chaise.
Her hand curled against his chest. "So they're desperate now."
Alaric nodded grimly. "They knew the potion wouldn't last long. It was a gamble."
Seraphine sat up slowly. Her eyes had hardened into steel. "Then it's time we stop reacting."
Alaric looked at her.
"I want to go to Santossa," she said. "I want to meet my biological parents. They have power...connections… I will ask them to help us form an alliance."
"You sure and ready?"
"I need to."
Alaric nodded slowly. "Then you'll go with Carlos."
Seraphine blinked. "Not you?"
He cupped her cheek. "If they try this again, I need to be here to confront them head-on. If I leave, they'll see it as weakness. You need to go while we still have time."
Seraphine bit her lip. "Then promise me—"
"No more potions," he said with a grim smile. "No more traps. I'll triple my sense around the manor."
She kissed him one last time, slow and lingering. "Then I'll bring back allies… and bloodlines the Council thought were buried."
As she stood to dress, Alaric remained seated, his eyes burning not with the love potion—but with the real thing.
And across the manor, Lady Jane and Celestine plotted again, unaware that their plan had not only failed—
It had united the two souls they sought to destroy.