Candles flickered lower than usual, as if sensing something brooding beneath the surface. In the west chamber, where the ritual plans were usually discussed, Luca, Vivienne, and Cyrus sat around a stone table, old parchments spread before them.
"The binding words must be said under the new moon," Vivienne began, pointing at a specific line on the parchment. "That means the ceremony happens in three nights. No errors."
Luca nodded. "I'll walk Emilia through her part tomorrow. She needs to be prepared."
Cyrus didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on the flickering candle in front of him, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Vivienne noticed.
"Something wrong, Cyrus? You look like you're about to pass out or punch a hole through the wall."
He blinked slowly. "Just tired."
Luca studied him closely. There was a strange, distant edge to him—like he was trying not to think too hard or feel too much.
Vivienne arched a brow. "Tired, or haunted?"
Cyrus gave her a sharp glance but said nothing. He couldn't tell them what weighed on him. Not yet. Not the slip in the forest. Not the strangely pleasant taste of the man's blood. Not the scream that never got to leave the lips of the tourist he'd drained dry. He had broken the Valois rule not to kill humans before feeding from them. He wondered if he was going to be discovered.
And especially not how it made him feel alive.
He stood. "If it's alright, I need to rest."
Luca gave a slow nod. "Of course."
Cyrus didn't look back as he walked out. He moved quickly down the hallway, past the candlelit corridors and into the part of the manor that hadn't been touched in decades. His chamber door creaked as he pushed it open.
Instead of lying on the grand bed, he walked to the old sleeping chamber—a hidden space tucked behind the stone wall, where it was cold and silent. He shifted effortlessly into his bat form and hung upside down from a wooden beam, wrapping his wings around himself like a cloak.
Darkness embraced him. But his thoughts didn't rest.
They carried him back.
The world was crimson. Everything glowed red, as though bathed in candlelight, but there were no candles. Just shadows and her scent.
Calista stood in the middle of the room, wearing the black velvet robe she used to wrap around herself after feeding. Her lips curved into a knowing smile.
"You always find me here, don't you?" she whispered.
Cyrus didn't answer. His legs moved toward her before his mind could catch up.
She reached up and touched his jaw. "You miss me."
"Not like I used to."
"Liar."
Their lips met, soft at first, but then it became frenzied. The hunger they had tried to suppress boiled over. Her robe slipped off her shoulders, and Cyrus pulled her to the floor. They made love with the intensity of a memory that never died.
When it was over, both lay tangled on the crimson rug. Calista turned to him, hair clinging to her damp skin. Her eyes gleamed with wicked glee.
"Do you want to taste me again?"
He nodded.
They sank their fangs into each other at the same time. What once was ritual—a way to share, to bond—was now something twisted.
Cyrus felt her pull harder than before, as if she was digging deep for something vital. He matched her. There was no gentleness now. Just pain and a mad rush of blood.
His chest tightened. Her eyes flared. She was trying to kill him.
And he was doing the same.
They rolled, clawing, blood staining the rug beneath them. Then Calista was straddling him, fangs deep in his throat, draining him while his mouth stayed latched to her heart.
Suddenly, the room changed. He wasn't on the floor anymore.
He was back in the ritual hall.
And Calista…
She was over Luca now, draining him, while Luca fought to hold her off. Her voice echoed like thunder.
"You protect her now? Then let her feel your loss!"
Cyrus tried to scream but couldn't move.
Then everything went black.
He woke violently, still in bat form. His wings flapped wildly as he detached from the beam and crashed onto the floor, shifting back into his human form in the process.
Breathing heavily, naked and drenched in cold sweat, he stared around his chamber.
"Rough dream?"
The voice startled him.
He turned sharply.
Emilia stood at the edge of the sleeping chamber, her arms crossed, face unreadable. Her eyes dropped for a second to his state of undress, but she said nothing about it.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, grabbing the sheet from the floor and wrapping it around his waist.
She didn't move. "I was looking for you. You left the table early. I wanted to check on you."
Cyrus avoided her eyes. "You shouldn't be in here."
Emilia stepped forward, just once. "You killed someone, didn't you?"
He froze.
"That tourist from the woods," she said. "The one who got separated from his group. The others said he was probably lost. But you and I both know what happened."
Cyrus clenched his jaw. "You don't understand."
"Don't I?" Emilia said, her voice calm but firm. "I saw you so you can't deny it. I wonder what you were thinking Cyrus. I know that a Valois must not feed on a human who is unwilling and must not kill them. You killed him Cyrus"
Emilia moved closer to him and drew a hand to his cheek.
"You killed an innocent human because you were too angry at how Calista betrayed your love" she whispered the bitter truth to his face.
He sank to the floor, realizing that his thoughts and actions had been laid before him by Emilia. "I swear to you, Emilia, it wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't want to."
She looked at him with something strange in her eyes. Not fear. Something else.
Pity? Disappointment?
"What if it happens again?" she asked. "To me?"
His head snapped up. "I would never."
"You said that before, didn't you?" she replied quietly.
He flinched and Emilia stared at him with dark eyes.