Chapter 16: Taste of the Forbidden

Alaric

I should have stayed away.

I told myself that a dozen times as I crossed the corridor outside her chambers, each step a betrayal of my better judgment. But it was already too late.

I’d tasted restraint for too long, and it had turned bitter.

She haunts me.

Every glance. Every breath she takes in my presence. Her scent clings to me like a sin I never confessed.

The moment I felt her presence through the door, that soft hum of her energy calling to mine, I knew this wouldn’t end with silence.

I knocked once. Not hard. Soft but firm.

The door creaked open.

And I held my breath...

She stood in the doorway, framed by a flickering torchlight. A thin linen shift clung to her body, translucent in places where the fabric caught the glow. The hem skimmed the tops of her thighs, modest by design, but molded to every curve like silk drawn over warm skin. The neckline was simple, but dipped just enough to reveal the soft slope of her collarbone and the rise of her chest with each breath.

The fabric, worn from countless washings, moved with her, brushing gently against her thighs and whispering over her hips. Damp with sleep and warm air, it hugged her waist, the swell of her breasts, and the curve of her hips and thighs, as though reluctant to let go.

Her hair, long and thick, tumbled freely down her back in dark, loose curls. No pins. No braid. Just wild softness cascading like a curtain of midnight silk. It made her look unguarded. Dreamlike. As if she’d just stepped from a dream I wasn’t meant to witness.

“Your Majesty?” she asked, voice threaded with sleep.

“Annora.”

I don’t remember walking inside. Only that I was suddenly too close. The chamber was small, larger than the others, but still small. It was dimly lit by a single flame. She took a step back, not out of fear, but instinct. I followed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said. “I thought perhaps you couldn’t either.”

Her lips parted. “No. I- I’ve been restless.”

I smiled, though it felt like a blade against my own throat. “So have I.”

She watched me like one might watch a wild thing, half-wonder, half-warning.

“I think of you,” I admitted. “More than I should.”

She didn’t answer, but the flush rising to her cheeks was answer enough.

I reached out slowly, brushing my fingers along her jaw. “You’ve changed since I first saw you.”

She swallowed. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true. You feel it too, don’t you?”

Her silence was everything. I leaned in, and this time, she didn’t turn away.

My mouth found hers, soft, hesitant, then hungry. The kiss deepened, and she clung to me, her body melting into mine. My hands roamed her back and waist, memorizing her warmth. Her pulse pounded against my lips when I kissed her throat.

And it happened.

I felt the shift. The burn. The throb of need rising past control.

Her scent. Her blood. The rhythm of her heart calling to the monster beneath my skin.

I tried to pull back. Truly, I did.

But she moaned, soft, breathless, and it broke what little willpower I had left.

My lips parted, and before I could think, before I could stop myself-

I bit her.

Her body jerked in my arms. Her blood hit my tongue, and the world ceased to exist.

It wasn’t just blood. It was life.

Bright, wild, sacred. Like drinking fire from the veins of a goddess.

I drank.

Not with violence, but reverence.

And she didn’t scream.

She held me.

Her fingers trembled in my hair, but she didn’t fight. Her breathing quickened, her pulse fluttered, and then began to slow.

Too slow.

I tore myself away, gasping.

She crumpled in my arms, lips parted, eyes half-lidded with dazed confusion and something else. Something shining and wordless.

Ecstasy?

I stared at her, chest heaving. My mouth was stained red.

She couldn’t speak.

Could barely move.

And I...I had taken too much.

I cursed and caught her before she fell. My mind screamed for reason, for action, for damage control.

I’d bitten an innocent.

No consent. No right. No marking.

And if the Council knew. No, if even Tristan knew...

She’d be dragged from this room before morning.

No one would believe it was an accident. Not with the rules. Not with her blood.

Panic clawed at my throat.

I needed help. Someone fast. Someone loyal.

But careful.

I laid her gently on the bed, brushing her hair from her forehead. Her breath was shallow, her lashes fluttering like moth wings. She looked peaceful.

And I knew. If I stayed a second longer, I’d collapse beside her.

So I fled.

Not because I was afraid.

But because, for the first time in centuries…

I might’ve broken something I didn’t know how to fix.

The hall outside her door was empty, but I moved as if chased. Silent and swift, one hand braced against the stone to steady myself. My throat burned. My hands still shook. I could feel her blood singing through my veins like wildfire.

Damn it.

I had to think. I had to fix this.

There was only one name that came to me. One person in this cursed castle who might help without asking too many questions.

Edric.

He'd seen it. Weeks ago. The way I watched her. The way I couldn’t help but draw her near under the guise of trivial errands and chance encounters. He had mocked me openly. Daring me to take what I wanted.

And if he held any loyalty to me at all, he would keep this quiet. Though I knew he would. He was my brother after all.

I found him not in his chambers, but in the old dueling hall. The only place he went when the world was too loud to think.

He stood shirtless beneath the high windows, blade in hand, sweat slicking his chest. One of the training dummies lay decapitated at his feet.

“I need you,” I said.

He turned. His expression shifted the moment he saw my face.

“Gods,” he muttered. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t mean to.” I stepped into the torchlight. “It wasn’t planned.”

He stared. “Your mouth…”

I wiped the back of my hand across it. Red. Still fresh.

“Tell me it wasn’t her,” Edric said, his voice low.

I didn’t answer.

“Alaric.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen. I lost control.”

He cursed under his breath and threw down the blade. “Where is she?”

“In her bedchamber. She’s alive, but I took too much. She couldn’t even speak.”

“And no one else knows?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Then we still have time.” Edric grabbed a shirt from the bench, pulling it over his head as he moved. “Was it just a bite?”

I hesitated.

“No mark,” I said. “Not officially. Not… permanently.”

He gave me a sharp look. “Then you have hours before someone notices the change in her.”

We moved quickly, silently, down the servant corridors.

“Do you know what happens if the Council finds out?” I asked.

He snorted. “Do you?”

I glared at him, but he softened.

“I’ve always cleaned up after your messes, brother. But this one...” He looked at me sidelong. “This one’s different.”

“She didn’t scream,” I said suddenly. “She… held me. Like she wanted it.”

“That’s not the point.” But his voice wasn’t harsh. “She doesn’t know what you are.”

I nodded once. “She does now.”

We reached the corridor outside her room. Edric motioned for me to stay back.

“I’ll go first,” he said. “If she’s awake, it’ll be easier if I explain.”

He slipped inside.

I waited, every nerve tight.

A minute passed.

Then two.

The door opened, and Edric reemerged.

“She’s unconscious,” he said quietly. “But her color’s already returning. She’ll live.”

Relief hit me so fast I staggered.

“She needs blood,” he continued. “Human. Clean. I’ll send for it, but no servants you’ve used before. And we’ll need a healer, one loyal enough not to report this.”

“I trust no one,” I said.

“You trusted me.”

"You're my brother."

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Then let me do this. I can fix it.”

I nodded, too raw to speak.

“Stay out of sight,” Edric added. “You can’t be seen near her. Not tonight.”

I watched him disappear down the corridor, already moving like a man with a plan.

And I stood there alone, the taste of her still on my tongue, knowing that no matter how this ended, nothing would be the same again.