CH2

Lester pov

The scent of his blood lingers in the air. The scent of blood around me overall is overwhelming, but I can focus only on his. It is intoxicating and maddening, it smells like mine.

I should not have interfered, I should have let the ritual proceed as it always has, staying hidden in the shadows and watching the life drain from his body, the struggle leave his limbs and the defiance fade from his eyes like all the others before him.

But he fought, and the moment he did, kicking, punching and clawing like a desperate animal, I knew I wanted him for myself.

The High Council watches from the shadows, their judgment reeks in the air around me.

For now, they remain silent, for as long as the Blood Moon still hangs above us, illuminating the square in the dim red light, they won’t announce their presence, even though I can feel their eyes on me.

Soon, they will demand answers and I will have to justify what I have done.

“You should not have saved him, my prince. His life belongs to the feast.” The voice booms over the whispers of my people, rough and deep.

I don’t turn to acknowledge it. My gaze remains fixed on the human, on the trembling rise and fall of his chest, on the anger that burns in his eyes. He is weak, his body is broken, but his will remains untouched, burning, refusing to give in.

“And yet,” I whisper, my voice smooth, amused, “it seems I have rewritten his fate.”

A murmuring ripples through the gathered Council, hushed whispers laced with caution. They wouldn’t dare question me outright, in front of the gathered vampires. Not here, not now, not while the Blood Moon still grants me strength no creature of the night can challenge.

The human shifts, his body protesting with each movement. I watch as pain flickers across his features, but he doesn’t look away, doesn’t cower.

“What now?” The human’s voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You saved me from one death just to deliver me into another?”

A slow smile curves my lips. “Is that what you think? That I intend to kill you myself?”

He doesn’t answer as his jaw tightens and his hands curl into fists. He is barely standing, barely holding himself upright, and yet the fire in him doesn’t dim. He is fascinating. More than that, he is infuriatingly alluring.

“You intrigue me, human,” I confess, stepping closer. He flinches, just barely, but doesn’t move away. “I have seen men stronger than you crumble before my kind. And yet, here you stand, refusing to kneel, even when surrender would mean survival.”

“I don’t kneel,” he spits, and there is venom in his words. “Not to gods, not to kings, and certainly not to monsters.”

Laughter rises in my chest, smooth and deep, momentarily catching me off guard. “A bold claim, little one. But tell me, what will you do when the night stretches long and you find yourself caged within my halls? Will you still refuse to bow, I wonder?”

He doesn’t answer, but the fire in his eyes remains, burning brightly, pulling me closer.

I lift my hand, slowly, and trace a single finger along his jawline. He jerks away as if burned, his breath shuddering through gritted teeth. But I hear it, the quickening of his pulse, the rush of heat beneath his skin.

It’s not just fear, it’s something else, something that works like a magnet, encouraging and calling me to get closer, to let my touch linger for longer.

But alas, I chuckle and pull my hand away, letting it drop to my side. “It will be a pleasure watching you learn.”

“You’re insane,” he hisses, his voice shaking. “You think you own me, that saving me gives you some kind of right?”

“Ownership? No,” I muse, shaking my head lazily. “But possession,” I pause as my gaze flicks over him, taking in every bruise, every scar, every detail of the delicate body that would be so easy for me to break. “That is something else entirely.” I finish in a low whisper.

He inhales sharply, his lips press into a thin line as his body goes rigid with tension. He wants to deny me, to tell me I am wrong, but we both know the truth. I see it in the way his body responds to my presence, in the way his breath catches when I move too close, in the way he holds himself still, as if afraid of what might happen if he moves.

He’s already mine.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

When I turn my back on the human, the Council is still watching me closely, waiting for my next move. I know they expect an explanation, a justification to ease their concerns.

But, instead of giving what they want, I glance toward Malik, my second-in-command, who stands at the edge of the square. His large arms are crossed in front of his chest as his golden eyes flick between me and the human.

“Lester,” he addresses me, his voice laced with hidden amusement. “You do realize they won’t accept this?” He gestures towards my human, his lips stretching into a sly smirk. “You’ve interrupted the sacred ritual, broken tradition, and now what? You intend to keep him?”

I hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch before I answer. “Yes.”

Malik exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Reckless,” he mutters under his breath. “Even for you.”

I almost grin in response, but the moment is broken by an Elder, who steps forward to address me. “You have defied our ways, my prince,” he points out the obvious, his voice controlled. “What do you intend to do with him?”

I turn back to my human, who glares at me with a hatred so fierce it almost makes me smile.

“He is under my protection now,” I say simply. “He will come with me to the castle.”

Another ripple of murmurs, hushed protests. But none dare to outright refuse me.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” Malik murmurs as he stands beside me, his voice deliberately low enough for only me to hear. “And I can’t help but wonder, do you even know why?”

I glance at my human, his weakened body dragged into the castle before us by my guards, and smirk. “Because he doesn’t fear me,” I admit, more to myself than to Malik.

Malik chuckles. “Not yet.”

“Not yet, indeed,” I agree and smirk. Tomorrow, the game begins. Soon, he will learn that some fates are worse than death.