Elena's heart still thundered from the vision she had just seen. The memory of the white-haired woman's warning clung to her like cobwebs she could not shake off.
"Every bride of a Carstein prince had never survived the mating ritual. You are the first and that's why from now on, you will have more enemies than friends."
The words echoed in her skull, sinking deeper with every beat of her pulse. Her palms were clammy, and her knees wobbled as she ran down the staircase, careful not to let the passing maids see her in this state. She dared not reveal her agitation—not when the palace walls had eyes sharper than knives that could land on her throat.
She steadied her breathing as she slipped back into the seat prepared for her outside, lowering herself onto the cushioned seat where she had been earlier. Her body trembled still, but she forced her hands to lie flat on her lap. By the time the head maid appeared again, she had already calmed down.
"Your highness," the head maid's voice came sharp though tinged with formality, "the Prince will be joining you for lunch."
A lump rose in Elena's throat. She swallowed hard, trying not to renew her agitation. "Understood," she whispered, bowing her head slightly.
It had been days since the accident and since then, they hadn't spoken once. She hadn't dared meet his eyes since then, not even when he passed by her chambers. The silence between them was suffocating, and now, the idea of sitting across from him felt like a living hell.
What are we supposed to talk about for two damn hours?!
She sat rigid as servants filed in with trays of food and assorted delicacies: platters of roasted pheasant, steamed vegetables, fresh loaves of bread, and a bottle of dark wine so deep it looked like blood under the sunlight. Goblets of carved silver were set before them, glinting in the sun despite it being midday.
Moments later, she heard footsteps approaching the shade.
Elena's breath caught. He was here.
He was dressed simply in a black dress shirt, the sleeves rolled slightly to his forearms, and dark trousers that hugged his frame.
'He must really love dressing that way doesn't he?' Elena murmured the herself as she got up to offer her greetings.
The fabric of the shirt strained across his chest, accentuating his lean figure and strong back. His black hair, as always, looked as though it had been sculpted to perfection, falling in sharp contrast to the piercing coolness of his eyes.
Damn! He looked good enough to eat!
She scrambled up and lowered herself till her knees almost touched the soft grass. "Your highness."
"Sit," Damien said without sparing her as much as a glance.
He lowered himself opposite her, shrouding the entire surrounding with his presence filling the space without effort. For a moment, silence stretched thin between them, broken only by the soft shuffle of servants pouring wine.
Elena glanced up only briefly. He wasn't even paying attention to her. Hell me seemed more focused on the food than on me!
She picked up her goblet, trying to mask her trembling fingers. The servant beside her uncorked the wine, and with a smooth bow, poured it into her cup after filling the Prince's.
Damien's hand moved first. He lifted his goblet, swirling the liquid briefly before sipping.
And then—he stopped.
The pause was almost noticeable, but Elena saw it nonetheless; the faint tightening of his jaw. His hand lowered, slow and deliberate as he licked the droplets of the wine off his lips slowly. Elena could barely stop herself from staring.
"Do not drink that," Damien said coldly, now staring right at her. His gaze made her coil back and fumble with her fingers before she finally mustered the courage to look at him.
She froze, her goblet hovering inches from her lips. "W-What?"
Before she could even blink, Damien's hand shot across the table and grabbed her cup. The goblet was slammed from her grip allowing the wine to splatter across the white table cloth. The clatter echoed through the courtyard, making her flinch back in shock.
Everything was happening too fast and before she knew it, he moved again.
Damien rose from his chair, latching his hand onto the head of the servant who had poured the wine. His movements were too swift, too vicious for Elena to process. With a soft crunch that was too repulsive for anyone, Damien slammed the man headfirst into the stone gargoyle statue that guarded the corner of the hall.
The sickening crack of bone resounded through the air. Blood sprayed across the cold floor as the man collapsed lifeless, body crumpling at Damien's feet.
Elena gasped as her body trembling violently. She clasped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She had net seen a dead person before in her life, let alone witnessed a murder!
The other servants had already fallen to their knees with heads pressed to the ground, too terrified to even breathe. They knew what it meant when the Prince's fury erupted; it was death, swift and merciless.
Damien's eyes, now a dangerous shade of red, scanned the hall with icy precision. On the outside, he still maintained his princely aura and appearance but right now, he was anything from that. He had killed two people! Without batting an eye!
After that, deafening silence spread throughout the palace.
Then, without warning, he turned again seizing the wine bottle from the table, and in one fluid motion, smashed it across the head of the nearest maid.
The bottle shattered with a violent crack. The maid's scream was short-lived and choked off as her body crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from the gaping wound across her forehead.
She was still. Dead.
Elena's hand shot to her mouth, stifling the scream that clawed at her throat. Tears blurred her vision, slipping hot down her cheeks as she shook like a fragile leaf in the storm.
Her heart pounded violently. She wanted to run, to scream, to flee this monstrous place, even to get away from this demon she was forced to call her husband. If he could be this merciless, who knew what he could do to her?.
But she couldn't move. Elena sat there, paralysed with fear.
Damien's gaze snapped to her in a split second and Elena felt her entire body go numb with paralysing fear. His eyes burned with fury, but his expression still remained oddly calm. His blood red eyes were in full glare now, allowing her to have a perfect view of it.
For one fleeting moment, their gazes locked. Elena's breath hitched and her entire body stiffened under the weight of his stare.
And then, without a word, he turned on his heel and strutted away from the yard.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Elena remained frozen in her seat, her hands trembling violently against her lap. Her lips quivered as a small, broken sob escaped her. She pressed her hands tighter over her mouth, desperate to keep the sound hidden.
Two bodies lay lifeless before her, their blood pooling into the cracks of the stone floor. The other servants remained prostrated on the ground, quivering in terror even after he had left.
Elena couldn't take it anymore. She shot to her feet causing the chair to scrape harshly against the floor as she stumbled backward. Her vision swam and she felt bile rising in her throat.
Without giving it a second thought, she fled the courtyard, running with no location in mind...
......…........
The corridors felt endless as she ran, her skirts gathered in her fists as she struggled to pull them with her. The walls closed in around her, and the images replayed mercilessly in her mind—the sound of bone cracking, the spray of blood, the lifeless eyes, all came crashing back on her.
She couldn't take it anymore .
By the time she burst into her chambers, she was gasping for breath, her chest heaving violently. She collapsed against the door, sliding down until her knees hit the floor. Her hands covered her face finally allowing her sobs to break free.
She had known Damien was dangerous. She had known he was a vampire. But seeing him unleash that raw, merciless violence with her own eyes—it shattered something inside her. How had an entire empire been ruled with vampires and no one even knew about it?
How long had they been here? Were they always this vicious?
And yet—he had saved her. But from what exactly
Had the wine been poisoned? Did someone she didn't know want her dead?.
Her hands lowered shakily. The thought pierced her grief and fear like a knife.
What if the wine had been poisoned? What if I had drank it? Would I turn into a vampire too? Wait, aren't I already one?
The last question almost broke her head in two. Am I really?...
Her heart twisted painfully at the thoughts. Was she supposed to be grateful? Terrified? Both?
She curled into herself on the floor, her tears soaking into the fabric of her gown. She was shaking uncontrollably. Her body wracked with confusion, fear, and anxiety. Suddenly, Elena felt like a sheep surrounded by hidden wolves. If that wine really was poisoned, then she had to be more careful...
Elsewhere in the palace, Damien stormed into his private chamber, his fists clenched so tightly blood trickled from his palms.
The fury still burned hot in his veins and he needed something to vent his anger on.
They had dared. Dared to try to poison her under his very roof. He had known the minute he tasted the liquid. It wasn't just ordinary wine, it was wolf's blood. Humans couldn't drink wolf blood, it'd melt their entire organs in a heartbeat! Every vampire servant in the palace knew that.
And yet someone had dared to present that to her!
His chest rose and fell rapidly. He could still see the look on her face—the terror, the tears, the way her small hands trembled as she clutched the goblet. The thought of her lips touching the poisoned wine sent a fresh wave of rage tearing through him. He knew only one person would have dared to commit such a disgusting act.
With a snarl, he slammed his fist into the wall. The stone cracked helplessly under the force he exuded.
"Cassian...," he hissed wickedly into the silence, "You bastard." He called out with demonic anger shaking his entire person.
He closed his eyes, slowing down his breathing though his anger still remained through the roof. He still hadn't been able to figure out what was happening to her. If she truly was a vampire now or not. Protecting her was his duty but it was no easy task. They were far more people waiting for one slip up so they could finally claim her after years of his suffering.
'No way in hell was that happening' he swore to himself.
In an instant, he vanished, leaving a trail of black smoke in his wake…