"Scarlett, be reasonable."
Oh, the irony. Reason had no place in my world—especially not when it came to him.
I planted my hands on my hips, glaring down at the smug vampire currently sprawled across my bed like he owned the place. His expression didn't shift, but his eyes said it all. That look—the one that always implied I'm the irrational one—tightened my chest with irritation.
"You be reasonable, Axel," I snapped, slamming my bedroom door shut behind me and leaning against its cool wooden frame. "You're the one talking about being auctioned off like cattle and expecting me to smile about it."
Axel sighed dramatically, folding his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling with far too much ease for someone who'd just told his best friend he was getting married.
To someone else.
I crossed my arms tighter, my stare dragging over him against my better judgment. His navy-blue shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of pale, marble skin just above the waistband of his dark jeans. The muscles at his waist narrowed into sharp lines, leading down, disappearing into boxers that peeked out just enough to make me hate everything.
I averted my gaze.
God, I hated that he didn't even try. He didn't have to. He never had to. He was born perfect—vampire royalty, sculpted jawline, sinful mouth, and those eyes. That damned forest green stare that had haunted me since the day I first saw him drenched in blood beneath my window.
Seven years later, and nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, fingers tangling in strands still damp from the rain. His bangs fell messily over his forehead, and I hated how good it looked on him. Effortless. Everything about Axel was so fucking effortless, and it drove me insane.
He turned his head slightly, eyes catching mine before I could look away.
"What do you want me to say?" His voice was low, husky—an unspoken apology hidden in the spaces between his words. "That I'm excited? That I want this?"
I didn't answer.
Because deep down, I didn't want him to say those things.
I wanted him to say my name.
I wanted him to say it like it meant something.
Like I meant something.
But instead, he sat there with that tired look in his eyes and the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, and I couldn't hate him for it—no matter how much I tried.
"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, eyes drifting back to the ceiling. "Like I chose this."
"You didn't not choose it either," I whispered.
And we both knew I was right.
"I don't understand why you're so worked up about it, Scar," Axel muttered, his gaze still locked on the ceiling like it held all the answers he didn't want to give.
I shrugged, even though I knew he wasn't looking. "I don't know, Axel," I said, my voice tight. "I just don't like her. I definitely don't trust her. She gives me... a bad feeling. The kind you can't shake."
Axel snorted. "You don't trust anyone."
My mouth opened on instinct, and this time the words came out quieter than I meant. "I trust you."
That stilled something in the room. The silence between us thickened, but not in a way that felt empty—more like a space we both recognized too well.
Axel's voice softened, almost matching mine in tone. "I know you do, Scarlett."
God, I hated when we were like this—hanging in that fragile in-between where we weren't fighting, but we weren't fine either. He was my best friend, my only constant in a world full of shifting loyalties and buried truths. When we clashed like this, it didn't feel like a disagreement—it felt like distance. Like losing him one inch at a time.
It made my chest ache.
Today had been worse than usual. He'd shown up out of nowhere with the kind of news that lodged itself in my lungs and refused to let me breathe. The King's Blood Trial—revived after centuries of silence—just to choose a bride for Axel's coronation.
And Lady Kelly Jamison, of all people, was among the contestants.
I hadn't been able to think straight since.
The Trial wasn't a romantic tradition. It was brutal. Women from across the kingdom would quite literally compete for the crown prince's hand. Favors would be exchanged. Blood would be spilled. It was everything wrong with the monarchy rolled into a twisted spectacle of pageantry and death.
Axel knew that. But still, he defended it. Worse, he defended her.
And that's what cut deepest.
Because he knew how I felt about Kelly.
She had been a thorn in my side since the first time I saw her flick her platinum hair and giggle like some porcelain-faced predator during a press conference. Axel—either oblivious or willfully blind—had insisted for years that her smiles were innocent, her gestures friendly.
As if her obvious flirting hadn't been neon-lit for the entire kingdom to see.
But of course, Axel wouldn't notice unless someone engraved it on a stone tablet and smacked him in the face with it. Repeatedly. Preferably while wearing a name tag that read, Hi, I'm Obvious Manipulative Seductress #1.
I stared at him again, jaw clenched so hard it ached.
He didn't move. Didn't react. Just laid there, soaking in the tension like it didn't set every nerve in my body on fire.
It wasn't that he didn't care.
It's that he didn't get it.
And maybe that was worse.
"I hate this," I muttered, the words slipping out before I could catch them. "I hate fighting."
Axel scoffed lightly, propping himself up on his elbows. The moment our eyes met, my lungs forgot how to work. It was stupid, how a single look from him could unravel me so easily—how after all these years, I still hadn't built up immunity to him.
I hated it—hated him for not noticing, for pretending not to notice.
Because these feelings weren't new. I'd carried them since I was a child. I'd clutched them close like a secret I couldn't bear to part with, and every time he smiled at me like I was his kid sister, like I was just "Scar," the ache inside me sharpened.
"Scarlett," he said gently, shaking his head. "We're not fighting."
His voice was soft but firm. "Trust me, I know what fighting looks like. This?" He leaned back on the mattress, his gaze returning to the ceiling with that familiar distant stare. "This is just a disagreement."
I flinched.
He didn't mean to hurt me, I knew that. But the casual way he dismissed the tension between us made me feel small. Like my heartache didn't register on his radar.
Axel had grown more withdrawn lately—more haunted. And I knew why.
His father, King Vladimir, had been tightening the leash around him ever since the crown was shoved onto his shoulders. History, tradition, legacy—all dumped on an eighteen-year-old boy who never asked for any of it.
And the worst part? He wasn't even supposed to be the heir.
Vance was.
Vance, the golden son. The arrogant, prideful bastard who used to gloat about being king since they were kids. I never trusted him—never liked the way he looked at Axel, always measuring, always two steps ahead.
Then one day, out of nowhere, Vance gave it all up. No warning. No reason. No explanation.
He just walked away.
And Axel—who never wanted the throne to begin with—was forced to pick up the crown Vance dropped like a tantrum toy.
It pissed me off. It devastated him.
But of course, he'd never say that out loud.
Axel never talked about how heavy it all felt. He just carried it, the way he carried everything—silently, bitterly, and alone.
And somehow, Vance still managed to haunt him.
I'd lost count of how many times Axel had come to me with another story about his older brother—always with that strained look in his eyes, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to punch him or cry. Probably both.
The truth was simple: they'd never gotten along. Not for longer than five minutes at a time.
And yet... Axel still looked hurt. Like he'd expected better. Like deep down, he still wanted Vance to be his brother—not his rival.
Maybe that was what made Axel different from the rest of them.
He still wanted to believe in people.
Even when they didn't deserve it.
I dropped my gaze to my hands, fingers trembling slightly as I picked anxiously at the edge of my nail. "I'm sorry," I whispered, the words barely audible over the crackle of tension between us. "I didn't mean to upset you."
The bed rustled behind me, sheets shifting, then creaking quietly as weight lifted. I stilled, holding my breath as the soft tread of footsteps moved toward me.
Then he was there—standing just inches away.
Axel reached out slowly, hooking his finger beneath my chin. My breath caught as he tilted my face up to meet his, our eyes locking with a force that nearly shattered me.
God, those eyes.
Warm, dark, and endlessly unreadable, like the last traces of dusk before night fully claimed the sky. His gaze held mine so easily, like he didn't know the chaos he stirred inside me just by looking. Like he didn't feel the world tilting every time we stood this close.
"You don't need to apologize, Scar," he said softly, voice brushing over me like velvet. "I understand where you're coming from."
And just like that, my heart stuttered. The breath I'd been holding fled my lungs in a shaky exhale, butterflies crashing wildly in my stomach.
He always did this. Always made me feel seen. Heard. Important. As if the weight of who I was mattered in the grand scheme of his world—when I knew it didn't.
I knew Axel loved me.
But not the way I loved him.
Not the way I ached for him every night after he left. Not the way my soul had built a home inside the sound of his voice, the shape of his laughter, the steady rhythm of his presence.
He loved me like I was safe.
Like I was family.
And that hurt more than anything else.
I cursed myself every day for not trying harder to let someone else in. For not forcing my heart to move on from the boy who had unknowingly taken it seven years ago and never looked back. But how could I, when he filled every thought, every breath, every corner of my goddamn mind?
Axel wasn't just the crown prince. He was everything I admired in someone.
He was whip-smart—sharper than anyone gave him credit for. Observant in a quiet, dangerous way. He carried the weight of his crown with more grace than a seventeen-year-old should've ever been expected to. And somehow, despite the pressure, the expectation, the legacy—he remained kind.
Kind to his people.
Gentle with his cousin, Dorien.
And infinitely patient with me.
From the moment we met, he'd made it his personal mission to keep a smile on my face—even when I didn't want to smile. Even when the world felt like it was falling apart.
I knew it wasn't fair to feel this way. To keep hoping for more when he had no idea.
But every time he came to visit... every time he looked at me like this, like I was something precious—it got harder to pretend.
Harder to hold the line between love and friendship when mine had already blurred years ago.
"Okay," I whispered, my voice barely a breath as my eyes flicked between his. Searching. Hoping he couldn't read what was written all over my expression.
"C'mere," Axel murmured, his voice low, gentle.
I didn't hesitate.
My body moved on instinct, closing the space between us and melting into his warmth like it was the only place I'd ever belonged. The tension bled from my limbs as I released a slow, shaky breath, my eyes fluttering closed. His arms wrapped around me, strong and steady. Safe.
No one made me feel like this.
Not since my parents.
And even then, a part of me knew they wouldn't always be there. The weight of that truth lingered, heavy and inevitable.
So maybe it was selfish—maybe it was wrong—but I didn't care. I wanted to keep Axel all to myself, even if he never really belonged to me.
After a few more seconds, I stepped back—before he could let go first. I couldn't handle the sting of that.
"Thank you," I said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor between us. I couldn't let him see what lived behind mine. Not the vulnerability. Not the love. It would destroy everything.
I'd rather break quietly, day after day, watching him fall for someone else than risk losing him completely. Axel was everything—my calm, my chaos, my home. Without him, I didn't know who I was. And I hated that truth. It made me feel weak.
He stepped back slightly, putting just enough distance between us that the ache bloomed in my chest.
"No need to thank me either, Scar," he said with a soft smile.
I shoved that ache down deep, slamming it into the box where I kept all the things I could never say. Then I looked up and offered a crooked little grin, one I hoped passed for playful. "Good, because I was totally kidding."
Axel raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Oh, really?"
I scrunched my nose and let out a laugh that was far too girly for my liking. "Really."
His hand flew to his chest in mock offense, mouth falling open with exaggerated shock. "How rude, Miss Ambrose. You wound me."
Suppressing my laughter, I mirrored his gesture with dramatic flair, pressing a hand to my own chest and arching a brow. "How unfortunate, Your Highness."
Axel's face shifted instantly. The playful grin collapsed into a mock pout, and he turned his head dramatically, lips tugged down in exaggerated offense. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath.
I laughed—really laughed—and stepped forward to close the space between us. My hand rested lightly on his shoulder, still catching my breath.
That was my first mistake.
In a blur, Axel grabbed my wrist, then dropped low and hooked an arm behind my thighs. Before I could blink, I was hoisted up and slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Axel!" I shrieked, laughter bubbling out of me uncontrollably as my face burned. "Put me down or else!"
He halted for a brief moment, his balance tipping just enough to make me yelp. "Oh no," I muttered with a breathless laugh, clinging to his back.
"Or else what, Miss Ambrose?" he teased, smug and far too amused for my liking.
"You don't want to know, Your Highness," I warned between fits of laughter, my body jostling with every step he took.
Axel paused. That was my second mistake.
I could practically hear the devilish gears turning in his head as he twisted and tossed me onto the bed in one smooth motion. I hit the mattress with a squeak, limbs flailing, the room spinning with giddy momentum.
"Axel!" I squealed, scrambling to raise my arms and legs in a feeble defense. "Don't you dare—!"
But he already had the upper hand.
He was on the bed in an instant, straddling me with infuriating ease. One of his hands pinned both of mine above my head, and the other launched a relentless assault on my waist.
The tickling was brutal.
I kicked and squirmed, bucking beneath him, but he barely budged. My laughter echoed off the walls, sharp and breathless. "Axel! I'm—I'm gonna pee!" I gasped through my wheezing.
"Not until you say it," he taunted gleefully, fingers moving to my ribs and underarms without mercy. "Come on, Scar. You know the deal."
He paused—briefly, cruelly—to let me catch my breath. Our eyes locked.
I grinned.
"Never," I said, tongue poking out in defiance.
That was my third mistake.
His grin widened like a wolf with a fresh kill. The tickling resumed with full force, and tears spilled from my eyes as I writhed beneath him, a hopeless mess of screeches and laughter.
"Okay! Okay!" I finally cried. "You win! I surrender, you win!"
Axel slowed, the corners of his mouth curling with smug satisfaction. "Victory," he said, still straddling me, still holding my wrists down as if he didn't want the moment to end.
My chest rose and fell, breath still shaky. But his eyes had changed.
Something passed between us—brief, unreadable, but real. His gaze dipped, lingering longer than it should have. And then he shifted, his body lowering ever so slightly until the heat of him pressed against me, his hips flush with mine.
My breath caught again—but this time, it wasn't from laughing.
I couldn't look away. Neither could he. The air between us turned still, heavy, charged with something we didn't dare name. His grip on my wrists tightened just slightly, his chest hovering above mine.
I wanted him.
Desperately.
But I couldn't—wouldn't—be the one to cross that line. Not when everything I had with him could shatter in an instant. Not when I'd spent the last seven years convincing myself this crush would pass.
It hadn't. Not even close.
And as I stared up at Axel, heart thudding wildly beneath my ribs, a familiar, cruel voice echoed in my head.
He'll never see you as more than a little sister.
He'll never want you the way you want him.
I shut it out. Just long enough to keep breathing. Just long enough to pretend none of it mattered.
I crashed hard.
A sharp vibration buzzed against my leg, ripping me out of the moment like a slap to the face. Whatever warmth had lingered between us shattered in an instant, my expression hardening on reflex—stoic, unreadable, indifferent.
Axel blinked, and I knew he felt it too. The snap back to reality. The weight of the air shifting as whatever spell we were under vanished like it had never been there to begin with.
I hated how good we were at pretending.
Without a word, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. My chest tightened as I tapped the screen and scanned the incoming message—one single line, glowing in cold white text.
Get in the cellar. The house is under attack. —Mom
My heart stopped.
Then it took off at a sprint, pounding behind my ribs like it was trying to break free.
No breath. No thought. Just ice in my veins.
I didn't even realize I had dropped the phone until it hit the floor with a dull thud.