The memories of the night before hit Eleanor the moment she woke up, her body still warm from Silas’s touch.
She stretched, yawning loudly, and rolled over—only to find the bed empty.
Her smile faded slightly.
Where was he?
She sat up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. The room still carried his scent—dark spice, cedar, something distinctly him.
Eleanor closed her eyes and let the memories of the night flood her mind.
His hands on her skin. His lips tracing every inch of her. The way he whispered her name like it was the only thing that mattered.
A deep warmth spread through her chest.
"I just slept with Silas."
Her smile returned, wild and unrestrained.
But reality soon set in.
With a sigh, she swung her legs off the bed, wincing slightly as she stood. She needed to leave. If anyone found her here—
She grabbed her robe and sneaked back to her room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Just as she sat down—
Knock. Knock.
She froze.
"Who is it?" she called out, forcing her voice to stay calm.
"It's me."
Esther.
Eleanor let out a breath and walked over, opening the door. "Esther, what—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Esther’s expression was serious.
The teasing, the mischief—it was gone.
Something was wrong.
Eleanor’s stomach dropped. "What happened?"
Esther took a deep breath. "Your father is here."
Silence.
For a moment, Eleanor thought she had misheard.
"My—" Her voice caught. "My father?"
Esther nodded. "He's waiting in the guest room."
A rush of emotion hit Eleanor all at once—shock, confusion, anger.
And then she remembered.
How he had sent her away.
How he had sacrificed her to the vampire kings like she was nothing more than a pawn to pay off a debt.
A bitter taste filled her mouth.
She clenched her fists. "Take me to him."
The guest room felt too small. Eleanor stepped in, her heart pounding in her chest.
And there he was.
Sitting in the center of the room.
Her father.
For a second, she just stared.
He looked… older. Tired. Worn down.
But she didn’t let that soften her.
Her anger rushed back, burning hotter than before.
"You sent me away."
"You gave me to them like I was nothing."
Before she could open her mouth, her father stood up, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite read.
"Eleanor," he said, voice heavy.
She took a sharp breath. "Is this forever?"
He blinked. "What?"
"This," she snapped, gesturing around. "The deal. The sacrifice. Am I bound to them forever or was there a time limit?"
She didn’t expect the look of pain that flashed across his face.
He opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed. "Eleanor… it’s not what you think."
Her fists tightened. "Then explain. Because from where I stand, I was thrown into this life without a choice. You never came for me. You never fought for me."
"Eleanor—"
"Do you know what it’s like to be claimed by men who see you as nothing more than a… a ritual?"
Her voice shook.
But her father remained silent.
"Well?" she pressed. "Tell me why I was the one given up. Why you never fought for a different solution? Tell me—"
"Because you’re not human."
The room went still.
Eleanor’s breath caught.
She stared at him, heart slamming against her ribcage. "What?"
Her father exhaled heavily. "You're not as human as you think, Eleanor."
The world tilted.
She took a step back, her mind racing. Not human?
No. No, that wasn’t possible.
Was it?
Her hands trembled at her sides. "What… what are you saying?"
Her father’s gaze softened. "It’s time you learned the truth."