CHAPTER 7

SELENE

A slow, deliberate step forward was all it took. The air shifted, thickening with something oppressive, something dangerous.

The vampires stiffened, their cocky smirks crumbling into thinly veiled panic. One of them swallowed hard, his eyes darting to his companions as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

Darius said nothing at first. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was a death sentence.

Then, in a voice as smooth as silk and twice as deadly, he finally spoke.

“Gentlemen.”

The single word slithered through the alley like a blade unsheathed, making the vampires flinch.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he continued, his tone deceptively calm. “Let. Her. Go.”

The leader let out a nervous laugh, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Prince Darius!" The vampire’s voice cracked as he stumbled over his words.

"W-we found the girl! She—she escaped, but we caught her again! We were just... just teaching her a little lesson for running from you, Your Highness!" He swallowed hard, glancing at his companion for support.

"But we—we were just about to bring her back to you. I swear!" His voice wavered, his eyes darting to the corpse still smouldering to ash at Darius' feet.

He took a shaky step back, but Darius remained silent, his gaze pinned on him like a predator deciding whether the kill was worth the effort.

The vampire swallowed again. "R-right?" he choked out, turning desperately to his companion.

"R-right," the other echoed weakly, though his wide, terror-stricken eyes said otherwise.

But neither of them sounded convinced. Because no matter what excuse they spewed, Darius’ silence told them one thing.

They were already dead.

Darius tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze raking over the trembling vampires like they were nothing more than insects waiting to be crushed. The silence stretched, thick with suffocating tension.

The leader of the group shifted uneasily, licking his lips.

“We—we didn’t touch her,” he stammered, his voice a shaky attempt at reassurance.

“We were just—”

Darius moved.

He didn’t lunge. He didn’t run. He simply took another step forward. And yet, it was enough to send the vampires scrambling back, their instincts screaming at them to flee.

“Did I ask what you were doing?” Darius murmured, his voice cold and smooth like a blade sliding between ribs.

The leader shook his head so hard his hood nearly fell back.

“No, Your Highness! We swear—we wouldn’t have laid a hand on her! We—we were just keeping her here for you!”

Darius didn’t speak. He just looked at them.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

I thought Darius would lash out then and there, that he would strike them down in one brutal movement. But instead, he did something worse.

He turned his gaze on me.

The weight of it nearly stole the breath from my lungs. His expression was unreadable, but there was something dark in his eyes—something furious and possessive. His gaze flicked over me, taking in my appearance, the way my hands were still clenched into fists, and the way my breath shuddered through my lips.

His expression sharpened.

“Come here,” he commanded.

My pulse stuttered.

I didn’t want to obey him. Every instinct in my body screamed against it. But his voice—it left no room for hesitation. No room for argument.

So I moved.

One step.

Then another.

The leader of the vampires shifted like he wanted to stop me, but Darius merely looked at him.

The vampire went still, his mouth snapping shut.

I made it to Darius' side, and before I could react, his arm came around me. Firm. Unyielding. A silent claim.

The air turned frigid.

“You had your fun, then?” Darius asked, his voice quiet. Almost calm.

But there was something beneath the surface—something so deadly it made my stomach twist.

The leader opened his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to beg. I’d never know.

"And now it's my turn!"

Darius moved.

Faster than my mind could process, he had his hand wrapped around the vampire’s throat.

The sickening crack of bone echoed through the alley as Darius lifted him effortlessly off the ground.

The other two ran.

Not a single word. No attempt to fight.

They just ran.

Cowards.

Darius didn’t even glance at them. His focus remained on the vampire dangling from his grip, struggling, clawing at the hand crushing his throat.

“I told you not to touch what’s mine,” Darius murmured, voice like a knife slicing through the silence.

The vampire let out a strangled gasp.

“Mercy—please—”

Darius’ lips curled.

“No.”

And then, with one sharp twist, the vampire went limp.

Darius released him, letting the corpse crumple to the ground like a broken doll.

Then, as if the universe itself feared Darius' wrath, the body ignited—embers flaring, skin curling into dust until there was nothing left but ash.

For a moment, I lingered on the alleyway corner, my breath ragged, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Then I ran.

I bolted toward the main street, the promise of safety hidden within the thin crowds ahead. Behind me, the air filled with the sickening crackle of fire, followed by a high-pitched, agonized shriek. The sound of a body being reduced to ash.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t know where I was, or what the hell was happening, but one thing was clear—I had to get out of here.

The street was so close now, just a few more steps—

Then something massive dropped from the sky.

The force of the landing sent cracks spiderwebbing across the pavement, a gust of air blasting past me. I skidded to a stop as the hulking figure rose from a kneeling position, unfolding like a nightmare-given form.

His eyes burned like molten rubies, gleaming with an unnatural glow in the dim morning light. The shadows clung to him as if afraid to let go, curling around his broad shoulders, seeping from the folds of his dark clothing.

Darius.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my entire body trembling.

Darius stared at me, his expression unreadable, though something flickered in the depths of those glowing eyes—something between disbelief and amusement. Slowly, almost lazily, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my skin as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the lingering scent of blood and ash thick in the air.

His lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, yet laced with something dark.

"You’re running again?"

Not a question. A statement. An observation filled with the kind of disbelief that suggested he found my defiance either utterly foolish or absurdly entertaining.

As if the very idea of me escaping him was laughable.

I swallowed, my throat raw from screaming.

"Of course, I ran," I shot back, lifting my chin.

"What did you expect? That I'd just sit there and let myself become an all-you-can-drink buffet?" I let out a sharp, humourless laugh.

"Yeah, no thanks."

His lips twitched—almost amused—but his eyes remained cold, assessing.

"And how did that work out for you?" he drawled, glancing at the ashes scattered across the alley.

"Let me guess—you thought outrunning vampires was a solid plan?"

I clenched my fists, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was right. I was bruised, exhausted, and had come way too close to dying in an alley like some nameless victim. But I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

His hand dropped, but his gaze never wavered.

"Let's go."

No question. No sympathy. No choice.

I stiffened, every muscle in my body screaming at me to fight, to run again, something.

I barely had time to suck in a breath before Darius grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. A startled scream tore from my throat, but he didn’t so much as hesitate.

"What the Let me go, you undead asshole!" I shouted, pounding my fists against his back.

He only chuckled—chuckled—and took off, his inhuman speed turning the world into a blur.

The alley disappeared in an instant, and then, with a single powerful leap, we were soaring through the air. My stomach lurched as the ground dropped away, the wind whipping through my hair.

We landed on a rooftop with a forceful crunch, but he didn’t stop. He ran, fast and smooth, darting across the rooftops like a phantom, the city sprawling beneath us in a dizzying rush of lights and shadows.

“Put me down!” I shrieked, twisting against his iron grip.

“Put me down, you blood-sucking moron! Where the hell are you taking me?!”

He didn’t even slow.

“Home,” he said simply. His voice was calm, final.

I stiffened.

Then he added, low and possessive—

“You’re mine now.”