The sun dipped low, painting the sky in blood-red streaks, and the mansion came alive. What had seemed quiet and lifeless by day was now a cathedral of shadows. Lights flickered along the grand corridors, torches burning with a flame too steady to be natural. The air was thicker, charged, as though the house itself breathed.
Mia was wearing a red wine-colored gown which some servants gave her moments ago, every step echoing too loudly on the marble floors. She had been told to prepare herself. For what, she didn't know. But she could feel it—something was coming.
At the base of the grand staircase, Asher was waiting. He stood tall in another black suit, his tie a deep crimson that almost looked wet in the firelight. Around him, the mansion had transformed: doors that had been locked now opened to reveal halls filled with robed figures, men and women with unnaturally pale skin and eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light.
Mia froze.
"Asher…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Who—who are they?"
He smiled faintly, stepping closer, his presence radiating command. "My people. My court."
Her heart hammered. "Court?"
"The world you know, Mia, is a veil," he said smoothly, gesturing for her to follow. "Behind it lies mine—the bloodlines that rule, the clans that fight, the traditions older than your nation. You're standing in the house of Valerius, and every one of them…" His gaze swept over the assembled vampires, "…answers to me."
Mia's throat dried. Their stares were heavy, predatory, like a thousand knives pressing against her skin. Some of them smiled—sharp, too sharp—while others regarded her with disdain, as if she were prey brought into a predator's den.
Asher moved behind her, his hand pressing lightly against her back, guiding her forward. "Do not lower your head, kitten. If they scent fear, they'll devour it."
"I—I'm not afraid," she stammered, though her body betrayed her, trembling under their gazes.
"Liar," Asher murmured against her ear, amused.
He led her into the grand hall. At its center was a long obsidian table, carved with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly with crimson light. At each seat sat members of his court, their eyes gleaming in anticipation. And at the far end of the table, a parchment lay waiting—black ink shimmering faintly, almost alive.
Mia swallowed hard. "What… is this?"
"The contract," Asher said, stepping forward, his voice carrying through the chamber. "A marriage binding bloodline to bloodline, tradition to tradition. A human chosen by me. No one may dispute it."
Murmurs spread across the table. One of the robed figures leaned forward, his eyes bright gold. "A human?" His voice was sharp, derisive. "You risk the balance, Asher. She will not survive your world."
Asher's gaze snapped to him, cold and lethal. "Are you questioning me, Lucien?"
The man fell silent immediately, lowering his head.
Mia's pulse raced. She wanted to run, to scream, but she couldn't move. Every instinct screamed danger. And yet Asher's hand found hers, his grip firm, commanding.
"You will sign beside me," he murmured softly, for her alone. "With your name, you enter my world. And once you are mine, no one—human or vampire—will dare touch you."
Mia froze. The word slammed into her chest like a blade. Vampire.
Her eyes widened, disbelief warring with horror. "What… what did you just say?" Her voice cracked, trembling.
Asher's lips curved into that dark, knowing smile, his crimson gaze flashing for just a heartbeat before returning to its deceptive human hue. "Ah. You didn't know." He tilted his head, studying her with cruel amusement. "Yes, kitten. Vampires. My world. And you've already stepped too far into it to turn back."
Her pulse spiked violently, her body shaking. "No—no, that's impossible," she stammered, stumbling a step back, her hand still trapped in his iron grip. "They don't exist. They can't—"
"Don't they?" he interrupted smoothly, his tone sharp as a blade. Around them, the figures at the table shifted, some smiling, some baring teeth too sharp, too long. Their eyes glowed faintly in the torchlight, unearthly, predatory.
Mia's knees weakened, terror clawing at her throat. "You're… you're all monsters," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"Monsters?" Asher chuckled, low and dangerous, leaning closer until his breath brushed her ear. "No, kitten. Predators. And I…" His gaze locked with hers, his power pressing down on her like a storm. "…I am their prince. The strongest of us all. The one they obey. The one no one dares to cross."
The words hit her like a crushing weight. Her heart thundered, her breath came shallow, and every instinct screamed at her to run.
But his hand was still on hers, steady, unyielding, guiding her toward the shimmering contract.
"You see now, don't you?" he whispered, his voice silk over steel. "This isn't a game. This isn't pretend. You've seen the truth, Mia. And in this world, you survive only by standing at my side. Defy me, and you won't survive the night."
Her vision blurred, fear burning in her chest like fire. Vampires were real. He was their prince. And she—she was nothing, but prey trapped in the lair of the deadliest predator alive.
And yet his hand was warm, steady, pulling her closer to the ink. His voice was soft, intimate, terrifying.
"Choose wisely, kitten. Tonight, you either become mine… or you don't leave this hall alive."
Her breath caught.
And in that moment, Mia realized she had just stepped into a world where love, freedom, and survival were all the same thing—and where the man holding her hand was both her captor and her only protector.