The room was silent, yet Elena couldn't sleep. Liam's letter haunted her thoughts.
"Don't trust them. Especially the red-eyed man."
The candle on her nightstand flickered as a strange chill whispered past her ear—like a voice too quiet to understand. Heart racing, she rose, wrapping a thin shawl around her shoulders and picking up the candle.
The manor was unusually quiet. No guards. No servants. Just the echo of her own soft footsteps.
She wandered past corridors lined with ancient paintings and moonlit windows until she found herself standing before it—a tall, silver door. She remembered it from her first day here.
"Never go beyond the silver doors," Darius had said, his voice calm, but eyes unreadable.
But now, standing before it, the silence felt louder, heavier. What was beyond these doors that even he feared she'd see?
Her fingers hovered over the cold metal doorknob.
"Curiosity," a voice drawled behind her, "is a dangerous thing, little flame."
Elena gasped, spinning around—candle trembling in her hand. There he stood, Darius, leaning casually against the shadowed wall, the faint golden sheen of candlelight catching his beautiful, tousled dark brown hair. His eyes—normally a soft, stormy grey—locked onto hers with an unreadable gleam.
"You shouldn't be up," he murmured, stepping forward. "You should be sleeping."
"I... I couldn't," she said, her voice catching as he closed the distance.
He reached out, gently taking her wrist—the one poised to open the door—and raised it between them. "This hand," he said lowly, "could get you in a lot of trouble."
His other hand found her waist, pulling her just close enough that her breath hitched. The candle's flame flickered wildly between them.
Elena's lips parted, her pulse racing. "Why can't I go past it?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned in, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath along her jaw. "Because what lies beyond that door... is not ready for you." His voice was smooth, almost teasing—but there was weight behind the words.
"But I can't sleep," she whispered, trying to maintain eye contact.
"Shall I join you then?" he offered, his smile slow and wicked. "Perhaps... keep you company throughout the night?"
Elena's eyes widened. "N-No! I mean—I'll sleep. I swear."
She turned too quickly, nearly blowing out the candle as she scurried down the hall, her face burning.
Darius watched her with a quiet chuckle, the shadows swallowing his smile. He turned back toward the silver door, expression hardening as the candlelight dimmed behind him.
"Not yet," he murmured to the door. "Not yet."
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Let me know if you want to continue into Elena's thoughts afterward, or switch POVs for Chapter 18.
Perfect. Here's a continuation of Chapter Seventeen from Darius's POV, right after Elena flees down the hallway:
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Darius's POV
She fled with hurried steps, her candlelight flickering as it disappeared into the dark corridor. Darius watched until she turned the corner, the sound of her heartbeat still echoing in his ears like a song he couldn't silence.
He leaned against the silver door, the cool metal grounding him as the scent of her lingered in the air—sweet, tempting, maddening. His fingers flexed at his side, recalling the warmth of her waist beneath his hand.
So close, he thought, jaw tightening. Too close.
His eyes, once stormy grey, flickered with a crimson sheen. Not from anger. Not tonight. It was hunger. The scent of her blood was unlike anything he remembered from centuries of existence—ancient and pure, powerful and intoxicating.
But it wasn't just her blood that unsettled him. It was her. All of her.
He turned his gaze toward the silver door behind him. If she had stepped inside... He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't. Not yet.
Footsteps echoed softly behind him.
Lucan.
"I saw her run," Lucan said, folding his arms. "You're playing with fire."
Darius didn't look back. "Fire can be tamed."
Lucan scoffed. "Not this one. You've felt it, haven't you? She's waking up."
Darius finally turned to face him, the red in his eyes now dimming. "She doesn't remember anything. Not yet."
Lucan's voice dropped. "But she will. And when she does, you better be ready for the storm she brings. She isn't just a girl, Darius. She's the key."
"She's mine," Darius said simply. Cold. Calm.
Lucan stared at him for a long moment before speaking again. "Let's hope your heart remembers that she's not just your salvation... but your undoing."
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