Perfect. Here's Chapter 2 of Blood Ink: A Devil's Bargain, written to Webnovel standards — intense, immersive, and emotionally charged, with mystery and a dash of dark tension between Elara and Lucien.
Soft sheets brushed against her skin. The scent of fresh linen, sandalwood, and something darker—like burnt amber—filled her lungs.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Gone were the flickering streetlights, the pouring rain, the crumpled eviction notice. She was no longer on the street.
She was in a room she didn't recognize.
A massive bedroom, lit by golden chandeliers, its walls painted in deep crimson and black. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a skyline she'd never seen before—neither New York nor anywhere familiar. The buildings seemed twisted. Taller than they should be. Sharper.
Even the sky looked wrong. Too red. Too still.
She sat up slowly, only to realize—
She wasn't wearing her soaked clothes anymore.
A silk nightgown clung to her body, thin and smooth, revealing more than it hid. Her skin looked… different. Pale, flawless. Even the scar on her shoulder from a childhood fall was gone.
Panic tightened her chest.
What the hell is this?
She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor beneath her was cold marble, black with streaks of silver. The whole room looked like a mix between a palace and a shadow.
A sound.
She turned.
Lucien stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her with that maddening calm.
"You're awake," he said. "Good."
"What did you do to me?" she snapped.
"I saved you."
"By stripping me and putting me in a haunted mansion?!"
His lip curled. "If I wanted to harm you, Elara, I wouldn't need theatrics. You're here because you signed the contract. You're under my protection now."
"I didn't ask for this," she said, standing. "You offered revenge, not—whatever this is."
He stepped into the room, his presence somehow pulling the air toward him.
"This is the first day of your new life," he said. "You belong to the contract now. Which means… you belong to me."
Her stomach twisted.
"You make it sound like I sold myself into slavery."
"No," he replied. "Slaves are powerless. You, on the other hand, are about to become something much more."
She didn't move.
He approached, slow and deliberate, stopping just inches away. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers were cold. But her skin burned where he touched her.
"What are you doing to me?" she whispered.
"Awakening what's already inside you."
She jerked away.
"I want answers," she demanded. "Where am I? What's happening to me? What do you mean by 'belong to the contract'?"
Lucien didn't flinch. "You're in one of my realms. Think of it as a halfway point between your world and mine. Here, time moves differently. The body heals. The soul adapts."
"The soul?" she repeated. "Are you trying to say I'm—what, some kind of demon now?"
He chuckled—low and smooth, like silk sliding over glass.
"Not yet. But the transformation has begun. Your body has to adjust first. You signed with blood ink, Elara. That bond is ancient. It reshapes you."
She backed away. "I didn't agree to that."
"You agreed to everything, Elara," he said, his tone firm now. "You were warned. You accepted the price."
She shook her head. "No. No, I just wanted revenge. I didn't want to become—whatever you're trying to make me."
He watched her, expression unreadable.
Then he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. "Come see."
She hesitated.
"See what, exactly?" she asked, arms crossed.
"The world you've entered. The one you signed into."
Against her better judgment, she approached.
Her eyes widened.
Outside the window, the city looked like a twisted reflection of reality. Towering spires pierced a crimson sky. Shadows moved across rooftops like they had minds of their own. Fire flickered from windows, but no smoke followed. And somewhere in the distance, a scream echoed—a scream that never seemed to end.
"What is this place?" she breathed.
"My dominion," Lucien said quietly. "The Realm of Binding. Where all blood bargains are forged and sealed. Where your soul begins its metamorphosis."
She stepped back from the window, her heart thundering.
"I want to go back."
"You can't."
"I didn't sign up for hell!"
"This isn't hell," he said. "Not yet."
Her hands trembled.
He turned toward her again.
"Elara," he said, softer now, "I'm not your enemy. This realm will teach you. Shape you. You'll gain the power you asked for. And when you're ready… I'll show you how to use it."
"To hurt them?" she whispered.
"To destroy them," he corrected.
Silence stretched between them.
Her breath slowed.
And somewhere, deep down, a part of her—dark and quiet—whispered:
Let it happen.