Midnight.
The ritual chamber beneath the castle pulsed with old power—stone etched with runes that shimmered faintly under torchlight. A circle of obsidian dust marked the floor, surrounded by symbols written in vampire blood.
Ariana stood at the center of it, naked beneath a silk cloak.
Damien was already there, robed in black, his eyes glowing faintly crimson. His fangs hadn't retracted since they entered the room. His power, usually tightly leashed, radiated out in waves—intoxicating, suffocating.
"This is the Blood Mark Ritual," he said, voice low. "Once I complete it, your soul will be tethered to mine."
Ariana met his gaze, steady. "And if I change?"
"You won't," he said, but something flickered in his eyes—fear, memory, guilt.
She didn't ask yet. She wanted to believe him.
He stepped into the circle and placed a ceremonial blade between them—long, curved, dark as night itself. "This blade will draw your blood," he said. "And mine. The circle will seal. The bond will be formed."
Ariana swallowed. "What happens after?"
Damien stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I will carry your scent in my veins. I'll hear your thoughts in my dreams. If you suffer, I'll bleed. If I fall… so will you."
"And if I die?"
Damien went still.
"You don't," he said flatly. "Not without me."
She didn't have time to question him.
Because suddenly—
The circle flared.
And exploded.
Damien grabbed her, shielding her with his body as arcane fire rippled across the stone. The air filled with smoke—and something more.
Poison.
Sabotage.
He growled, fangs bared, eyes glowing brighter than blood. "Someone interfered."
But Ariana didn't collapse.
She stood, dizzy—but untouched.
The ritual had been tampered with, but the bond hadn't broken.
Instead… it had revealed something else.
A shadow spilled from the wall—ghostly, flickering.
A woman.
Pale, blood-soaked, her voice a whisper echoing through the chamber.
"Damien…"
Ariana stepped back as the phantom moved forward.
"Who is she?" she asked.
Damien's eyes didn't leave the ghost. "Selene."
"Your… last mate?"
He nodded once, jaw clenched.
The phantom's voice shook. "You promised me forever…"
"I tried to save you," Damien said quietly.
"You killed me," she whispered, fingers reaching for him—but phasing through his chest like smoke. "You told me we were eternal. But you made me a monster."
Ariana couldn't look away.
"What happened to her?" she asked softly.
Damien didn't turn to her. "I marked her. She couldn't handle the power. She turned blood-drunk. Killed half the court. Tried to kill Asra."
He finally looked at Ariana. "So I did what I had to."
Selene screamed—a sound like knives through bone—and vanished into ash.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Ariana stepped closer, laying her hand over Damien's heart. "You're afraid I'll become her."
"Yes," he admitted, voice low.
She pressed her forehead to his.
"Then give me a reason not to."
He kissed her—not with hunger, but with reverence. With hope. With fear.
And this time…
No magic flared.
But something inside them clicked.
The bond had already begun.
Even sabotage couldn't stop it.