The conservatory lay bathed in silver moonlight, the air heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the faint chill of the night. Ella wandered its quiet paths, her fingers trailing over the leaves of a flowering vine. The bond hummed faintly in her chest since the diner, a constant reminder of the connection that tied her to the de Vallière brothers. Tonight, though, it felt different—as if it carried an undercurrent of tension and longing she couldn’t place.
“Eleanor.”
The sound of Vincent’s voice stopped her mid-step. She turned, her breath catching as she saw him standing at the edge of the conservatory, half-hidden in shadow.
The moonlight outlined his sharp features, and his dark eyes gleamed with a mix of restraint and need. He moved toward her, each step deliberate yet hesitant, as though he were both drawn to her and fighting against himself. The bond pulsed between them, stronger now, a living thread that thrummed with shared emotion.
“Vincent,” she murmured, her voice trembling.
He didn’t speak at first, his gaze locking onto hers as he closed the distance between them.
“I could not sleep,” he admitted, his tone raw. “Not with everything that is happening. And then I felt you… Could not stay away.”
Her pulse quickened as his gaze held hers. The bond flared, its intensity building until it became an almost physical force between them as he reached out, his fingers brushing against hers.
The simple touch sent a jolt through both of them, a surge of energy that left her breathless. But it wasn’t just the bond that made something flutter inside Ella—it was the way he looked at her, as if she were the only thing binding him to the world.
“Eleanor,” Vincent said, his voice low and urgent. “Do you feel it too?”
She nodded, her heart racing. “Must say, it is quite overwhelming.” Then Ella stepped closer, her fingers brushing his arm. “Vincent,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You are holding back, don’t you?”
He tensed at her words, his eyes flickering with something dark and primal. “Eleanor, do not.”
But she reached for him again, her hand trailing up his arm. “You are hungry,” she said softly, her tone steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “Do not fight it, I can feel it.”
Vincent’s jaw clenched, his struggle evident in the way he looked at her—part longing, part agony.
“You do not understand what you are offering.”
“I do,” she insisted, stepping closer until their bodies were only a breath apart. “And I trust you.”
The bond roared to life as she tilted her head slightly, baring her neck. The faint blush of her pulse beneath her skin called to him, and he groaned, his restraint snapping like a taut thread.
His hand cupped her cheek as his lips brushed against hers with deep and strong kiss, growing fierce and urgent. His other arm circled her waist, pulling her against him as the bond amplified every sensation, threading their emotions together in an unbreakable connection.
“Eleanor,” he breathed against her lips, his voice hoarse and unsteady. “This—”
She silenced him by pressing closer, her hands slipping into his hair as she surrendered to the storm of emotions swirling between them.
Vincent’s kisses pressed against Ella’s with a desperate hunger, and before she could process the shift, he swept her off her feet. His strong arms wrapped around her thighs as he lifted her effortlessly. Her hands instinctively went around his neck as he moved to the nearest bench and sat, settling her on his lap.
Their kisses grew more urgent, their lips meeting in a sloppy, messy dance that left them both breathless and gasping for air. Ella's hands explored the contours of Vincent's chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as she felt her desire for him grow stronger with each passing moment.
The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and arousal as they lost themselves in each other. The bond between them pulsed with energy, its rhythm syncing with their own heartbeats as they fed off each other's desires in a never-ending loop.
His lips trailed down Ella's jawline, his breath warm and heavy against her flushed skin. Hands tightened around her waist and the back of her head, anchoring her as his lips found her neck again. Vincent’s fangs grazed her pulse point, sending a sharp jolt of electricity surging through her veins. The anticipation, the fear, and the exhilaration made her heart race, her breasts heaving against the tight confines of her corset.
Then, without warning, Vincent struck—his fangs sank deep into the curve of her neck and a guttural growl rumbled in his chest as he began to drink her.
It wasn’t pain that overwhelmed her but an electric jolt of pleasure that rippled through the bond. The sensation was intoxicating—raw, consuming, and intimate in a way that left her trembling. Ella gasped, her body arching into his as he drank deeply, his grip firm but reverent. Heat pooled low in her stomach, an ache building that made her tremble.
The sensation of his hot, insistent mouth against her neck ignited something primal within Ella. Her hips began to move in slow, grinding circles, rubbing herself against the growing bulge in his trousers. Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into the hard planes of his chest as she rocked her hips, surrendering to the growing tide of pleasure building between her legs.
With a groan, Vincent tore his fangs from her neck, a trail of blood staining his lips. His eyes blazed with raw hunger as he stared at her, his hands moving to her corset, hastily undoing the laces. With one swift movement, the corset fell away, revealing Ella's luscious, creamy chest.
Without hesitation, he dipped his head, his tongue swirling around her breast, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to her core. His hands roamed freely over her body, gripping her hips, guiding her movements as they ground against each other, their bodies slick with sweat and desire.
But before the moment could deepen, the air shifted. A surge of cold energy crackled through the room and a sharp sound of shattering glass pierced the air, snapping them back to reality. Adrian stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock and desire.
"Fuck," Vincent growled, his hands still tangled in Ella's hair. "Not now."
But Ella was beyond caring at the moment. She leaned forward, capturing Vincent's lips in a last kiss, their tongues entwined as she rocked her hips against his.
"Later," he whispered, her voice husky with desire. "We will finish this later, sweetheart."
And with that, she stood up, adjusting her clothing. Adrian stood there, his icy-blue eyes blazing with fury, his hand raised as crackling magic sparked from his fingertips.
"Vincent, what the hell are you doing?" Adrian roared, his voice echoing through the room.
Vincent's lips curled into a smirk as he looked over his shoulder at Adrian. "What does it looks like?” His jaw tightened, his arm moving protectively near Ella. “You do not control or own her, Adrian. Even the bond does not give you that right.”
Adrian’s magic surged, the energy rippling through the room and shattering another pane of glass. Ella stepped between them, her hands raised as she tried to calm the tension.
“Stop it, both of you!” she cried, her voice trembling.
The bond surged again, chaotic and unrelenting, a storm of Adrian’s possessiveness clashing with Vincent’s quiet strength and Sebastian’s simmering unrest. The emotions battered Ella from all sides, her knees buckling under the weight of their intensity. She gripped a marble pedestal for support, her breaths shallow as the bond crackled violently in her chest.
And then Mariel’s voice floated through the air, smooth and laced with mockery.
“Such fragile ties,” she mused, stepping out from the shifting shadows like a predator. Her crimson gown seemed to move with a life of its own, dark tendrils coiling at her feet. “And yet, so deliciously potent.”
From the corner of her vision, Sebastian emerged, his usual poise replaced with a wary tension. Mariel’s hand rested lightly on his arm, her crimson nails tracing slow lines down his sleeve as though claiming him.
“Tell me, Sebastian,” she purred, her tone silk and venom. “Are you content to remain in the dark, or will you seize the knowledge you have always craved?”
Sebastian’s golden eyes flicked toward Ella, his hesitation palpable. The bond pulsed, and Ella caught a flicker of his emotions—curiosity, shame, and an undeniable pull toward the witch’s offer.
“What are you doing to him?” Ella demanded, her voice sharp despite the tremble in her frame.
“Oh, my sweet girl.” Mariel’s lips curved into a predatory smile, her gaze drifting lazily to Ella. “I am simply offering dear Sebastian a choice. Knowledge always comes at a price, and he is so beautifully eager to pay it.”
Ella gasped as a vision tore through her mind—a fragment of Sebastian’s past, heavy with betrayal and pain. The image struck her like a physical blow: a grand chamber, illuminated by the flicker of dying candlelight. The air was thick with betrayal, the metallic tang of blood sharp in her senses as Sebastian stood at the center.
A figure lay crumpled at his feet—a man with dark hair, his eyes wide with shock as crimson pooled beneath him. Bloodied hands trembled as Sebastian crouched, his fingers brushing the man’s shoulder. The weight of guilt and regret radiated from him, a palpable force that pressed against Ella’s chest.
The scene shifted. She glimpsed a confrontation—a room filled with accusing voices, shadowed faces pointing at Sebastian. They shouted words she couldn’t fully hear, but the venom in their tone was unmistakable.
The raw pain of the vision left Ella breathless, her heart breaking for him.
She stumbled, her nails digging into the marble pedestal as she tried to steady herself. “Sebastian…” Ella whispered, her voice weak, trembling.
“What did you see?” Sebastian’s tone was clipped, defensive, but his eyes betrayed the unease simmering beneath his golden irises.
“Something… something you have hidden.” Ella met his gaze, her chest heaving as she struggled to push the memory aside. “The bond is unraveling. It is showing me pieces of you.”
Sebastian stiffened, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Mariel, whose amused smirk never wavered.
“You have no right to interfere,” he said coldly, but his tone lacked its usual confidence.
Adrian’s voice cut through the growing tension, cold and commanding. “Enough of this, Mariel. Why do you want our past so badly?”
Mariel turned her attention to Adrian, her dark eyes gleaming with triumph.
“Ah, Adrian,” she drawled, her voice soft but cutting. “You always demand answers, yet you are so terrified of what they might be.”
Adrian’s expression hardened, his magic flaring dangerously around him, a storm of crackling energy that sent a shiver down Ella’s spine. His eyes burned with fury as he stepped forward, his presence dominating the room.
“Stay out of our heads,” he growled, his tone dark and unyielding. “And stay away from her.”
Mariel’s laughter echoed through the conservatory, rich and mocking. “Oh, Adrian,” she said, her form beginning to dissolve into shadowy tendrils. “You may fight me now, but you cannot fight the truth forever. It will break you… all of you.”
Her presence evaporated into the walls, the conservatory plunging into an eerie silence. The air was thick with the aftermath of her power, and the bond hummed faintly, its threads frayed but holding.
Adrian’s fists clenched at his sides, his gaze fixed on Ella as if anchoring himself to her.
“She is simply just testing us,” he muttered, his voice low and simmering with restrained anger. “Pushing to the edge.”
Ella straightened, her fingers gripping the pedestal as she steadied herself.
“And what happens when we fall?” she asked softly, meeting Adrian’s gaze. The weight of his emotions hit her again through the bond—possessive, protective, and riddled with an unspoken fear.
Vincent stepped forward, his quiet strength breaking the tension. “We do not fall. Ever,” he said firmly, his dark eyes steady as they swept over the conservatory. “We find a way to stop her.”
But Sebastian’s silence lingered, a shadow that cast doubt over the moment. Ella glanced at him, the memory of his past still fresh in her mind, but he refused to meet her gaze.
Whatever Mariel had offered, it had struck something deep within him.