Seraphina stared. Her stomach lurched, a cold, visceral shock. Her mind screamed. Meat? Just meat? And… raw?
Her memories of human food, of cooked meals, of the delicate pastries and fruits of her old life, clashed violently with this barbaric display. She looked at the Duke, whose gaze was calm, expectant, with a subtle, predatory gleam in his eyes as he picked up a silver utensil… she wondered how he could stand it.
It looked and smelled horribly.
Seeing her frozen horror, the Duke offered a slow, enigmatic smile. It was a beautiful smile, yet utterly chilling. His lips parted slightly, revealing teeth that seemed just a touch too long, too sharp, catching the lamplight like tiny, polished blades.
"Ah, yes," he murmured, his voice like silken midnight, a low thrum that vibrated through the air. "I forgot. Humans often prefer their sustenance… cooked. A minor inconvenience, given our rather different appetites."
Seraphina stared at him, then at the blood red feast, then back at his unnervingly beautiful, predatory smile. The horrifying truth dawned on her.
Her handsome, powerful fiancé, the legendary Duke Thorne, and perhaps this entire imperial family, were not human!
The rumors were true. They were vampires.
And then, an oddity. Not panic. No terror, not in the screaming, flight or fight way. It was more like the cold, resigned understanding of a woman who had already died and been reborn.
She had known worse than monsters. She had known indifference. And these creatures, at least, were better.
Vampires? Is that all?
Her thoughts were sharp, cynical, a surprising current beneath the shock. Not even truly monstrous? A flicker of almost comedic disappointment warmed her.
She had devoured forbidden romance novels in her past life, secretly borrowed from a kitchen maid. The vampire lords in those tales were far more brooding, tormented, cloaked in gothic shadows.
This Duke Thorne merely seemed... well, different. And perhaps a little too gentle.
She cleared her throat, a little too loudly.
"Vampires," she stated, the word feeling foreign on her tongue, yet strangely mundane.
She watched his reaction, trying to gauge if this was a secret she was supposed to already know, given Aurelia's past defiance.
Perhaps the original Princess Aurelia had only truly rebelled because she was told she was an offering, not because they were vampires.
"So the rumors of the Solara Imperials… are true."
She hoped her voice conveyed the appropriate measure of awe and dawning comprehension, rather than the slightly disappointed flicker in her heart that this was the extent of the Duke's "darkness."
A slight, almost imperceptible tilt of the Duke's head.
"Indeed, Princess. The Solara lineage runs deep, far deeper than most histories record. My family, and yours, are among the eldest of our kind. We have lived among humans for centuries, a hidden strength. A delicate balance."
He picked up a goblet, a heavy, ornate thing crafted from dark silver, and gestured towards a bowl filled with the deep crimson liquid.
"It is customary for a bride to partake in a small offering with her husband, to mark the union."
Seraphina's stomach lurched again, but she forced a pleasant smile.
"Of course. Customs are important."
She tried to sound agreeable, to play the role of the compliant bride, the one who had "seen sense."
After all, she couldn't outrun a vampire. She had to live. And this body, this life, was too precious to squander in a tantrum.
He watched her, a curious intensity in his dark eyes, as if dissecting her reaction.
"You are… remarkably composed, Princess. You were rather less sanguine about such revelations. You found the truth… distressing."
"Perhaps," Seraphina replied, a playful lilt in her voice, channeling the mischievous spirit of Aurelia, "my fever has purged me of all prior foolishness.
Or perhaps," she leaned forward, a conspiratorial glint in her emerald eyes, "I simply lacked adequate information. I find myself… rather fascinated."
A corner of the Duke's lips curved, a genuine, if brief, smile that transformed his severe beauty into something breathtaking.
"Fascinating, indeed. Such adaptability is… commendable. A rare vintage, Princess. A pure vessel."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the array of raw meats.
"Fear not, Princess. You will not be required to partake in this tonight. This is merely a private indulgence.
Your meals, henceforth, will be prepared to suit your human palate. Though we may require a… special supplement to your diet."
He chuckled, a low, unnerving sound.
"To ensure you remain... vibrant. A vital contribution."
Seraphina's smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered.
A "special supplement." Right. Human blood.
She nodded, feigning eager interest.
"Of course, Your Grace. Whatever is required."
"Excellent."
The Duke settled back, his posture one of effortless power.
"Now, regarding our union. As you've been informed, the ceremony is in one week. A swift affair, as is our tradition when a particularly auspicious alignment occurs.
This marriage, Princess, is more than a political alliance. It is a joining of ancient bloodlines, a pact for the strengthening of our future.
My parents, particularly my mother, hold… high expectations regarding the continuation of our lineage. Children. And soon. Many."
Seraphina's eyes widened, a genuine, unfeigned shock this time.
Children?
Her mind raced. She had just escaped death. She had just gained this perfect body. And now she was to be a breeding mare for vampires?
Inwardly, she struck that thought out with fierce resolve. She wasn't getting pregnant. Not now. Not like this. She'd figure out a way.
She just nodded, forcing a serene, agreeable expression.
"Of course, Your Grace. The future of our noble houses is paramount."
He seemed satisfied with her response.
"Good. We will ensure you are well versed in our customs before the week is out. Your duties, Princess, will be… significant.
But your position, your power, will be unrivaled amongst mortals. You will be safe, cherished, and protected."
The conversation continued for another hour, a strange, chilling dance between the Duke's cold, calculated expectations and Seraphina's desperate, outward compliance.
He spoke of ancient pacts, of the Solara Imperials' long reign, of the subtle ways they influenced human kingdoms from the shadows.
He didn't seem to think it unusual that a human princess was being married into their line. It was simply the way of things.
Finally, the Duke stood, his dark eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than comfortable.
"I trust this evening has been… enlightening, Princess Aurelia. I look forward to our union."
He bowed, a deep, formal gesture, then melted into the shadows of the doorway, leaving Seraphina alone in the opulent, blood scented room.
---
Back in her chambers, the silence felt deafening.
Seraphina dismissed the remaining maids with a polite nod, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Once the heavy doors clicked shut, her composure shattered.
She stumbled to the nearest silk draped chair, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
Vampires. All of them. And I am to be an offering. A broodmare.
This is worse than being forgotten. This isn't just death… it's worse.
She paced, her mind a whirlwind of fear, disbelief, and a desperate search for an escape.
The perfect body, the beautiful gown, the fawning maids... it was all a gilded cage.
She was a prize pig being fattened for slaughter, or worse, for breeding.
The irony was suffocating.
She had longed to be cherished, and now she was. Cherished for her
blood, for her womb…
How was she going to survive?