The grand chandeliers of the royal palace cast their golden glow across the hall, glinting off polished marble and glittering gowns. Laughter and murmurs echoed like music, but all attention was reserved for the one who would soon claim a bride: the Vampire Prince.
He entered silently, as if the world itself parted for him. Every head turned instinctively, yet his gaze barely acknowledged the courtiers bowing and curtsying before him. Pale skin that seemed almost luminescent under the chandelier light, black hair that shimmered like midnight, and eyes sharp and piercing enough to make the bravest noble flinch. There was no warmth in his smile — only the quiet assurance of someone who owned the room… and everything in it.
And then he saw her.
She stood at the edge of the ballroom, hands delicately folded before her, her frame small but poised. The other women sparkled in jeweled gowns, flaunting their status and pedigree, yet she seemed… untouched by the world's weight. There was a soft, ethereal quality about her — pale skin that seemed to glow faintly even in the chandelier light, hair cascading like molten silk, and eyes that shimmered with an innocent defiance.
He didn't know her name. He didn't know her station. But in that instant, nothing else existed.
A servant carrying a tray brushed past her, and the faintest misstep sent a crystal glass tumbling. She bent gracefully to catch it, fingers brushing the hem of her gown, and the faint, sweet scent of her — warm, human, irresistible — drifted toward him.
A flicker stirred in his chest, ancient and unexpected, the kind of instinct that had lain dormant for centuries. She is not like the others.
"Who is she?" he murmured under his breath, though no one dared answer. All eyes were fixed on the princess, radiant and composed, as if carved from the very elegance of the palace itself. But the prince's gaze had already left her behind.
Every movement she made seemed to capture him more. The slight tilt of her head as she watched the dancers. The gentle sway of her dress as she stepped back from the crowd. Every breath she took called to something primal within him.
The queen stepped forward, poised and radiant, her eyes glinting with expectation. She began to announce the engagement, directing attention toward the girl who was supposed to be the bride — the legitimate princess. Her words fell on the prince's ears like music he didn't care for. Because he couldn't stop thinking about the girl in the corner.
The air between them was electric, a current that no one else could feel. His lips curved into the faintest smile — not warm, not inviting, but full of intent. You are mine, it seemed to whisper, though the girl had no idea what she had just stepped into.
And as the announcement rang through the hall, he finally stepped closer. Not toward the princess, but toward the ethereal girl whose presence had ensnared him from the first moment. Every measured step seemed to draw her in, the world blurring at the edges until only the two of them existed.
The soft murmur of her breathing, the light tremble in her hands, the way her gaze met his for the briefest fraction of a second — all of it was intoxicating. And though she did not know it yet, she had already been marked… by him.
Because from the moment their eyes met, the balance of power had shifted. And he, the immortal prince, had already made a choice.
She would belong to him — in ways no one could anticipate.