The manor’s shifting corridors pressed in on Ella as she followed Lucien’s lead, his long strides cutting through the dim light with unerring precision. Unlike her panicked dash earlier, he moved with unnerving calm, as though he could read the house’s intent in its groaning walls and flickering runes. Ella struggled to keep up, her breath ragged and her heart pounding. The air felt heavier the deeper they went, thick with the oppressive hum of magic.
“This way,” Lucien murmured, his voice barely audible over the low rumble of the manor. He turned abruptly, disappearing into a narrow passage Ella hadn’t even noticed. She hesitated, but his voice floated back to her, sharper now. “Trust me, or get lost in this maze forever.”
She followed, her fingers brushing the cool, uneven walls to steady herself. The path twisted unnaturally, as though the house itself were resisting them. Shadows curled at the edges of her vision, and faint whispers tugged at her ears—her name, fragments of warnings, or cries for help. She gritted her teeth, pushing forward until they reached a staircase spiraling upward.
Lucien gestured her ahead. “It is faster from here. You will be where you need to be soon enough.”
Ella shot him a wary glance, but the urgency in his eyes mirrored her own. She climbed quickly, emerging at the top to find herself just outside the ritual chamber. Lucien’s footsteps didn’t follow. When she turned to look for him, he was already gone.
Taking a steadying breath, Ella pushed open the heavy doors. The sight before her sent her heart lurching. Adrian lay sprawled on the floor, his head resting against Raphael’s lap, his skin pale as death. Raphael murmured something softly, his hand glowing faintly where it rested against Adrian’s chest. Vincent paced nearby, his movements sharp with frustration.
The moment Vincent saw her, he froze. His eyes locked onto hers, widening briefly with shock before his expression softened. Relief swept across his face, stark and unguarded, and in two strides, he was in front of her.
“You are okay,” he said, his voice low but trembling faintly. His hands hovered as though unsure whether to touch her, and when he finally rested them on her shoulders, his grip was firm but gentle. “I thought—” He broke off, exhaling sharply. “You should not have run off. Should have waited for me, I would have taken you away from there”
“I am here now,” Ella said, her voice steady despite the swirl of emotions tightening her chest. “And I know what we need to do.”
Raphael looked up at her, eyes soft with worry. “He is fading,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with urgency.
Ella hesitated, her gaze flicking between Adrian and the brothers who remained. Sebastian leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp features twisted in a faint smirk. Vincent stood rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. And Raphael, ever calm, watched her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach twist.
Her voice faltered, as she swallowed hard before saying: “My blood could save him.”
The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken tension. Vincent’s jaw tightened, and he began to pace again, his boots striking the stone floor with deliberate force. Sebastian let out a low, derisive laugh, shaking his head.
“Of course it did,” Sebastian drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “How very convenient. Let the little dove sacrifice herself for The Great Duke Adrian de Vallière. How noble.”
“Brother,” Raphael said softly, though his voice carried an edge that silenced Sebastian’s laughter. He shifted slightly, adjusting Adrian’s weight against him. “Eleanor is here because she wants to help. Mocking her won’t change anything.”
Sebastian arched an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Help? Or tie herself even deeper into this mess? Let’s not pretend this is some altruistic act.”
“Sebastian, shut the fuck up.” Vincent’s voice was sharp, a warning.
He stopped pacing a moment after, his gaze snapping to Ella. “You do not have to do this,” he said firmly. “There is no guarantee it will work. And if it does… the bond between you and Adrian—”
“I do not care about the bond,” Ella interrupted, her voice trembling but resolute. “I cannot let him die. Not because of my actions.”
Her words hung in the air, heavier than the dim light flickering from the runes on the chamber walls. The silence that followed was sharp, taut with the unspoken weight of their shared situation. Vincent’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he turned away, his broad shoulders rigid. His hands curled into fists at his sides, though whether it was frustration or helplessness, Ella couldn’t tell.
Raphael’s olive eyes, steady and unyielding, softened as he regarded her. His voice, calm but tinged with a quiet gravity, broke the silence.
“Are you sure?”
Ella’s gaze dropped to Adrian, sprawled against Raphael’s lap like a broken doll. His usual commanding presence was reduced to this pale, fragile shadow of himself. His chiseled features were gaunt, his skin almost translucent where dark veins crept up his neck. He looked less like the proud leader she had feared and more like a man caught in the final grips of death.
The thought of losing him—of watching him slip away—squeezed her chest with an unbearable ache. This wasn’t just about undoing the damage she’d caused; this was about Adrian. And despite everything, she couldn’t let him go.
“Yes,” Ella said, her voice steady even as her heart trembled. “I am sure.”
Raphael nodded, his fingers brushing gently across Adrian’s forehead as though to soothe him. It was a strangely tender gesture, made all the more poignant by the faint glow of power emanating from Raphael’s palm.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Then come here, please.”
Ella knelt beside them, her movements deliberate, even though her pulse thundered in her ears. She could feel Vincent’s gaze burning into her back, his unspoken disapproval like a weight between her shoulders. She didn’t dare look at him. This was her choice, and she wouldn’t let him sway her.
Raphael shifted Adrian slightly, cradling him with a practiced ease that spoke to centuries of care and discipline. He guided Adrian into a more upright position, his strength belying his calm demeanor. Adrian’s head lolled weakly against Raphael’s shoulder, his eyelids fluttering but unable to fully open. His breaths were shallow, rasping against the quiet tension of the room.
“You need to be careful,” Raphael said, his voice taking on a firmer tone. “He is too weak to stop himself if he takes too much.”
Ella nodded, though her hands trembled as she reached out to Adrian. Her fingers brushed against his neck, icy and lifeless to the touch. The chill of his skin sent a shiver coursing through her, and she inhaled sharply, forcing herself to remain steady.
This was Adrian. The man who had taken her freedom, yes—but also the man who had saved her life. Her grip on him tightened.
“Adrian,” she whispered, leaning closer, her voice trembling with emotion.
For a moment, there was no response. His face was slack, his body limp. Panic bubbled up in her chest, but then his lips parted, a faint groan escaping him like a breath of life returning.
“Ella…” he rasped, her name more a ghost of sound than a word.
Her chest tightened, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
“I am going to help you,” she said softly, her throat constricting.
She adjusted her position, drawing Adrian’s head to rest against her shoulder. The intimacy of the moment struck her, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on what needed to be done. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side, baring the soft curve of her neck. Her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out all other sound, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin as if calling to him.
Adrian stirred faintly, his lips brushing against her throat. The touch was hesitant, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver racing down her spine. Her breath hitched, her hands gripping his shoulders as she prepared herself.
“Go ahead,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “You may take it.”
The first bite was sharp, a sudden, piercing pain that drew a gasp from her lips. She instinctively tensed, her body jerking in response, but Raphael’s steadying hand on her arm grounded her.
“Breathe,” he said quietly, his voice a calming balm.
Ella exhaled shakily and the pain quickly gave way to something deeper, more primal. The pull of Adrian’s mouth was slow and deliberate, drawing her blood with a rhythm that sent waves of warmth spreading through her body. It wasn’t just the physical sensation—it was the connection, the way she could feel him waking with every pulse of her blood that filled him.
Her fingers clutched at Adrian’s shirt, pulling him closer, her body reacting on instinct as the bond between them grew stronger. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, the world around her fading until only the two of them existed.
Images began to flicker in her mind, fragments of Adrian’s life bleeding into hers. She saw him standing alone in the manor’s great hall, his expression a mask of control as he issued commands to those beneath him. She saw him in battle, his sword cutting through the darkness, his face a portrait of grim determination. And she saw him kneeling in a shadowed room, his hands trembling as he prayed to a long-forgotten deity, his voice laced with desperation.
The emotions accompanying the visions overwhelmed her—fear, anger, guilt, and beneath it all, a profound loneliness that made her chest ache. Tears slid down her cheeks as she clung to Adrian, her grip tightening as the connection between them grew stronger.
“Ella,” Raphael’s voice cut through the haze, firm but calm. “That is enough. You need to stop him now.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Adrian’s grip on her tightened, his arms locking around her as though she were his lifeline. His hunger was insatiable, his restraint slipping as the pull of her blood became more desperate. A soft, strangled sound escaped her as her vision blurred, her body growing weaker with each passing second.
“Adrian, please, stop now,” she whispered, her voice faint. “Please…”
But he didn’t. The bond between them burned brighter, fiercer and Ella felt herself slipping further into the tide of his hunger.
Just as her knees began to buckle, Vincent’s voice snapped through the chamber like a whip. “That is enough!”
Before she could process what was happening, Adrian was wrenched away from her. The sudden severing of the bond left her gasping, her body collapsing forward into Raphael’s waiting arms. Her hand flew to her neck, where the faint sting of Adrian’s bite lingered.
Adrian staggered back, his chest heaving as blood stained his lips. His eyes, once clouded and weak, now burned with vitality, though his gaze darted between Ella and Vincent in confusion. Vincent, standing over him like a shield, was seething.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Vincent snarled, grabbing Adrian by the collar. “When she said ‘stop’ – then you stop! Don’t you fucking get it? You could have killed her!”
Ella struggled to push herself upright, her breath shallow but her voice steady.
“It is not his fault,” she said, meeting Vincent’s furious gaze. “He stopped when he could.”
Vincent released Adrian with a growl, his expression dark, but he stepped back, giving her space.
“She is fine,” Raphael said calmly, though his golden eyes flicked to Ella with quiet concern. “Let her breathe.”
Adrian’s eyes locked onto hers, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Ella… I am sorry.” He jumped to his feet, took a couple of steps in her direction and continued, “Please, forgive me.”
She managed a faint, weary smile, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “Just… do not make me regret it.”
Vincent’s grip tightened, but before he could respond, the door to the chamber swung open. Sebastian strolled in, his smirk widening as his gaze swept over the scene.
“Well,” he drawled, his tone mocking, “isn’t this cozy?”
“Not now, Sebastian,” Vincent snapped, his voice low and dangerous.
Sebastian ignored him, his smirk turning into something sharper.
“You might want to wrap this up,” he said. “Because we have got company. The rival clan has sensed our little… predicament.” He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “And they are coming.”