The vampire stronghold was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that settled in the bones, whispering of unseen dangers.
Selene hated it.
Since arriving, she hadn't seen Damian again. He had disappeared after his cold, clipped words, leaving his men to handle her. The fact that he hadn't even looked at her properly gnawed at her nerves—not because she wanted his attention, but because the bond was still there, tugging at her senses, unwanted and undeniable.
She sat near the barred window, her fingers tracing the cold iron as Seraphina paced behind her.
"This place feels like a crypt," Seraphina muttered.
Selene smirked faintly. "Fitting, considering we're surrounded by the undead."
Seraphina huffed but didn't argue. She was restless, like an animal trapped in a cage. Selene understood the feeling all too well.
Their "guest quarters" weren't cells, but they weren't exactly inviting. The room was large but bare, the stone walls swallowing sound. A heavy wooden door stood between them and the rest of the fortress, marked with an intricate crest—thorned vines twisting around a dark crescent moon. Damian's insignia.
The man really leaned into his aesthetic.
Selene exhaled slowly. She had spent her entire life moving forward, refusing to dwell. But now she was stuck in enemy territory, forced to play along until she figured out what the hell was going on.
A knock at the door made both of them tense.
Selene glanced at Seraphina, who raised a brow before striding forward and yanking it open.
A man stood on the door.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark leathers, he carried himself with an ease that only came with years of fighting. His dark eyes swept over them, sharp yet unreadable. There was no arrogance in his stance, just quiet confidence—the kind that told her he was dangerous without needing to prove it.
"Darius," he introduced himself.
Selene leaned against the window. "The king's right hand."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "And you're the stray he found in his woods."
Seraphina scowled. "She's not a stray."
Darius gave her a lazy glance before looking back at Selene. "No? Then what is she?"
Selene smiled coolly. "A problem, apparently."
Darius chuckled, crossing his arms. "I like you. Most would be more cautious with me."
"Most don't interest me."
He smirked. "Fair enough. The king requests your presence."
Seraphina scoffed. "Oh, now he acknowledges her?"
Darius barely spared her a glance. "Just her."
Seraphina tensed. Selene met her gaze, silently telling her it was fine.
As Darius led her through the fortress, Selene memorized every turn, every exit. The walls felt like they were watching her, the torches flickering in eerie synchronization.
"You don't seem nervous," Darius observed.
Selene glanced at him. "Should I be?"
His lips twitched. "Most are."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he murmured. "You're not."
They rounded a corner, and the air changed. A new presence filled the space, sharp and cold.
A woman stood at the entrance to what Selene assumed was the king's hall.
Tall and poised, she wore crimson that clung to her form, her dark hair braided into something both elegant and deadly. There was a cruel beauty to her, the kind that cut if you got too close.
Lucienne.
Selene didn't need to be told who she was. She knew the look in her eyes—the mixture of scorn and something darker. Possessiveness.
"So this is the little stray," Lucienne murmured, her gaze sweeping over Selene like she was something unfortunate dragged in from the streets.
Selene arched a brow. "And you must be the one he doesn't want."
Darius let out a low chuckle. Lucienne's expression barely flickered, but Selene saw the momentary tightness in her jaw.
"Careful, little wolf," Lucienne purred. "You don't belong here."
Selene smiled. "Neither do you, apparently."
Before Lucienne could respond, the doors behind her swung open.
The air stilled.
Damian stood at the threshold, his presence a weight that settled over the room.
His brown eyes barely flicked to Lucienne before landing on Selene.
"Come," he said, turning without another word.
Selene followed, acutely aware of Lucienne's burning stare as she stepped past her.
The hall was vast, lined with towering bookshelves and dark stone pillars. A massive table sat in the center, covered in scattered maps and documents.
Damian leaned against it, watching her like she was something to be studied.
"You were tracking rogues," he said, voice cool. "Why?"
Selene crossed her arms. "We were attacked. Their movements felt off. I wanted answers."
"And?"
Selene hesitated. "We found a vampire. Dead."
Something flickered in his gaze. "And?"
"And we were captured before we could figure out more," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Unless you already have the answers I was looking for."
Damian didn't respond immediately. Then—"They weren't acting alone."
A cold knot formed in Selene's stomach. "Then who are they working for?"
Damian exhaled slowly. "That's what I intend to find out."
Selene frowned. "And where do I fit into this?"
Damian's gaze darkened. "That remains to be seen."
Tension thickened between them, crackling like a storm.
Damian stepped closer. "For now, you'll stay here. Under my watch."
Selene bristled. "So I am a prisoner."
"Call it whatever you want," he murmured. "But you're not leaving."
Her pulse thrummed, but she refused to let him see it.
She clenched her fists. "And if I refuse?"
Damian tilted his head, a slow, wicked smirk ghosting his lips. "Then you'll force me to make you stay."
Selene swallowed hard.
She didn't know what angered her more—his arrogance or the fact that a part of her wanted to challenge him just to see what he would do.
But one thing was certain.
Whatever game was beginning between them…
She had no intention of losing.