Elena's POV
When the knock came at dusk, her heart jolted.
"You're expected," the maid said simply, her silver hair braided tight like before. She placed a soft gown on the bed—deep wine red, trimmed with black velvet. It looked expensive. Royal.
She wants me dressed like a meal, Elena thought, but said nothing. She wore it anyway.
The hallway outside her chamber was darker now. Candles lit the path in flickering lines, like a procession to something sacred—or damned. She followed in silence, down the marble stairs, through double doors… until she reached a grand dining hall.
A single table. Long. Endless.
And at the very end of it… him.
Darius Draven.
He stood when she entered. And for the first time, she saw him fully.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His black coat was embroidered with silver thorns. A deep crimson shirt beneath, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a chiseled collarbone and a glimpse of pale skin.
His hair was black as midnight, falling in waves just past his ears. And those eyes…
God, those eyes.
Glowing faintly red, like dying embers in a winter fire. Ancient. Piercing. Possessive.
He didn't speak as she approached.
He just looked at her.
Elena swallowed, her steps hesitant. She reached the seat across from him—miles away at the end of the table.
But Darius raised a brow.
"Come closer."
Her heart stuttered.
A servant appeared from the shadows, pulled out the chair beside him instead. Closer. Too close.
She sat.
The table was already set. A glass of red wine for her. Something darker in his.
"I trust the east wing did not disappoint," he said after a long silence.
"I didn't realize castles had wings."
He smirked. "You'll learn."
Their food arrived—fruits and soft bread for her. Nothing for him. Just that same dark liquid.
"What… is that?" she asked.
"Don't worry," he said smoothly. "It isn't yours."
She flinched, and he noticed.
"Do you think I brought you here to feed on you?"
She didn't answer.
He leaned back in his chair, observing her like a puzzle. "You think I bought you to use you… break you… hurt you."
Still no answer.
"But I haven't touched you."
"Yet," she whispered.
His eyes darkened. "I don't need to take what is already mine."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
He looked away first. Not in weakness—but restraint.
"You're not like the others," he murmured.
Elena stared. "Others?"
His jaw clenched. "Never mind."
He rose from his seat and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"I should've left you," he said quietly. "Let the world eat you alive, like it did before. Let you rot in that auction cage like the rest."
Her hands trembled in her lap.
"But I didn't."
He turned back, eyes blazing.
"Because one look at you… and I remembered what I swore I would never forget."
She stood, her breath shallow. "What are you talking about?"
Darius stepped forward. Slowly. Like a predator who knew she wouldn't run.
"I'll tell you… when you're ready."
She held his gaze. Barely.
"I'm not a thing to be owned."
"No," he said. "But you're mine anyway."
He reached out—his fingers brushing her cheek, feather-light. Cold. Trembling, like he was the one who was afraid.
Then he pulled away.
"Go back to your chamber."
And she did.
But she didn't sleep.
Because all she could see was him—standing alone by the window, fighting something that burned hotter than any flame.
Elena's POV
The castle gardens were nothing like the wildflower patches she used to dream in back in the village. Everything here was manicured, controlled. Roses climbed up blackened trellises like silent watchers. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air, heavy and intoxicating.
Elena knelt by a marble fountain, dipping her fingers into the water, trying to quiet the storm in her chest.
She still wasn't used to freedom—if it could even be called that. The hallways were endless, but guarded. Her meals were served in golden bowls, but eaten alone. She was no longer chained… yet she still felt bound.
"I see the rumors were true."
Elena turned quickly.
A woman stood beneath the willow tree, hands clasped before her like a queen prepared to give judgment. She wore a fitted red dress that clung to her hourglass figure, gold embroidered patterns curling up her sleeves like flames. Her lips were crimson, and her dark brown eyes gleamed with contempt.
"You're the slave," the woman said, stepping forward. "The one he bought for a fortune."
Elena rose to her feet slowly. "Who are you?"
"Vivian," she answered with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Darius and I… go way back."
There was venom in her tone. The kind that tasted of possession.
"I didn't ask him to buy me," Elena said softly.
Vivian chuckled. "Oh, sweet thing. You really think that matters?"
She took another step closer, her eyes flashing with something dangerous.
"He's mine. Always has been. He's just… playing with you."
Elena stood her ground. "Then maybe you should take it up with him."
Vivian's expression darkened.
"You're bold. I'll give you that," she said, eyes beginning to glow—not just with anger, but with something unnatural. Deep crimson flickered in her gaze like embers igniting.
Elena's pulse quickened. That wasn't human.
Vivian raised a hand, her nails elongating just slightly—barely enough to catch the light. Her lips curled.
"You really think you matter to him? You're a toy. And toys break."
Suddenly, she stilled. Her gaze snapped to the path behind Elena.
Elena turned—and felt a cold gust brush her skin as Darius stepped into view, silent as a shadow.
He was dressed in black again, the silk of his coat catching sunlight like obsidian. His crimson eyes settled on Vivian with a knowing gleam.
"I see you've found yourself a new pet," Vivian said with forced sweetness. "She's… plain. But I suppose even kings get bored."
Darius arched a brow, amused. "Strange. I don't recall sharing her with you."
Vivian's smile tightened.
"She doesn't belong here," she said sharply. "She'll get hurt."
Darius stepped beside Elena, his hand brushing hers—just barely.
"Then perhaps you should stay far away from her," he said coldly. "I'd hate for you to be the reason she gets hurt."
Vivian's eyes narrowed. Elena felt the tension crackling like a storm above them.
"Come," Darius said, ignoring Vivian entirely now.
Elena obeyed, walking to his side. As she passed Vivian, she felt the weight of her glare like fire on her back.
As they strolled away, Darius spoke without turning his head.
"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Vivian. It gives you wrinkles."
Vivian scoffed behind them, but said nothing.
Elena tried to breathe normally, but her heart thundered in her chest.
"Thank you," she whispered, once they were out of earshot.
"I didn't do it for you," Darius said simply. "I did it because no one lays claim to what is mine."
Elena looked at him. "Am I?"
He didn't answer.
But the slight curl of his lips told her everything she needed to know.