“Eleanor!”
Her father’s voice rang in her ears, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot. She knew he still wanted her to leave the scene and go hide in the four walls of her room but how could she do that when she had just found out that the supposed men she had just been bound to, killed the girl before her.
She watched as her father turned, his cloak billowing behind him as he disappeared into the chaos, slipping through the doors and vanishing into the night.
The room was a whirlwind of battle. The rival king’s soldiers charged at the Valerian brothers, their blades slicing through the dimly lit chamber.
But Silas, Lucien, Dorian, Cassius, and Viktor met them with ferocity, moving in perfect synchronization, cutting down their enemies like shadows dancing in the moonlight.
Silas turned his sharp gaze to Eleanor, his silver eyes dark with urgency. "Go. Now!"
She couldn’t move.
Not when she saw Lucien grab an enemy by the throat and slam him against the wall. Not when Dorian, with effortless speed, dodged a dagger and drove his own through a soldier’s chest.
She had never seen war like this.
The clang of metal against metal, the guttural cries of the wounded—it was something out of a nightmare.
Outside, the battle raged on. The Valerian brothers’ army fought with unmatched skill, cutting through the enemy forces like they were nothing. Bodies littered the ground, the dirt stained with dark pools of crimson.
The rival king, standing in the center of the carnage, watched his soldiers fall one by one. He was losing.
His gaze darted around, calculating.
Lucien, his sword dripping with blood, took a step toward him. "You’re alone now."
The rival king’s jaw tightened. His men were dead. The five brothers surrounded him, their stances predatory.
He took a slow step back. Then another. Retreat.
But just as he turned—
Silas’s eyes widened. "Dorian!"
Dorian whipped around just in time to see it.
The rival king had drawn a black arrow from his cloak, its tip glowing with a venomous sheen.
And he fired it. Straight at Eleanor. Eleanor barely had time to react before Dorian moved. Faster than she had ever seen him move before. His body crashed into hers, knocking her backward as the arrow pierced his back. The sound of his pained groan echoed through the room.
Eleanor’s breath caught. "Dorian!"
He slumped against her, his weight heavy, his breathing ragged. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his dark clothing.
Her heart stopped.
Lucien, Cassius, and Viktor rushed forward, grabbing Dorian before he collapsed completely. They eased him onto a chair as his body trembled from the poison laced in the arrow.
The rival king was gone, having fled the moment his arrow had struck.
But Eleanor barely noticed.
She knelt beside Dorian, her hands shaking as she reached for him. "You—You saved me."
Dorian’s fingers curled around hers, his grip weak but desperate. His lips parted, struggling to form words, but his ragged breathing made it impossible.
Eleanor looked up at the brothers, her pulse racing. Why were they looking at her like that?
Their expressions were unreadable, their gazes locked onto her as if waiting for something.
Then she understood.
Dorian needed her.
Not her comfort. Not her worry.
Her blood.
His grip on her hand tightened.
And without hesitation, Eleanor reached up and dragged her dress over her head, exposing the delicate skin of her neck.
She leaned closer.
Closer.
Until she felt the warmth of Dorian’s breath against her skin.
Then—pain.
Sharp, searing, unbearable pain as his fangs sank deep into her flesh.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his arms, her body trembling as he drank.
This time, it hurt more than before.
More than the other times he had needed blood.
The venom from the arrow must have worsened it. The pull of her blood was too strong, too desperate. She could feel the way he clung to her, the way his grip tightened as if afraid she would slip away.
Her vision blurred, her limbs weakening.
But then—
She saw it.
The wound on his back, once dark with poison, now closing.
The torn flesh stitching itself back together, the color returning to his face.
Dorian’s lips left her neck, blood still staining his mouth as he let out a slow, shuddering breath. His eyes, once dim with pain, now glowed.
The tension in the room melted away. Relief washed over her.
Viktor placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "You saved him."
Eleanor, still lightheaded, let out a small, weak laugh. "He saved me first."