In their premises

It was the smell that woke me.

Not the sterile, chemical scent of a hospital, but something older. Richer. A mix of candle smoke, aged wood, and roses just beginning to rot.

I stirred, every nerve screaming as consciousness returned in sharp, jarring waves. My head pounded, my body ached, and my lips were dry and cracked. I tried to sit up, but my wrists were bound, soft silk cords that felt too gentle for what they were.

Panic flared.

Alex.

The memory crashed into me like a tidal wave. The alley. His blood. That final, choking sound.

“No,” I whispered, a strangled sound. “No, no, no…”

I thrashed, but the silk held. I wasn’t in chains. That would’ve been too simple. No, this, this was deliberate. A mockery of comfort. I was lying in a bed far too soft, its crimson sheets brushed with gold thread. Velvet curtains draped around the posts like funeral veils.

A gilded cage.

The room was cavernous, dark stone walls softened only by flickering candlelight and ancient tapestries. The windows, if there were any were sealed behind heavy drapes. It felt like a place where time had stopped. Or died.

Somewhere deep in this manor, I could feel it.

Him.

The vampire with the most crimson eyes.

I didn’t know his name. Didn’t need to. He was the reason Alex was dead. The reason I was here. The reason my body still trembled even though I hadn’t seen him since the alley.

But I would. I knew I would.

The door creaked open. My breath caught.

But it wasn’t him.

A girl entered, no older than twenty. Her skin was pale and flawless, her hair tied in a braid so tight it tugged at her forehead. She wore a black dress that clung to her like shadows. Her eyes didn’t meet mine.

“You’re awake,” she said softly. “He told me to clean you.”

I flinched as she approached, but she made no move to touch me. Instead, she placed a basin of warm water at the edge of the bed and carefully dipped a cloth into it. Her hands trembled slightly.

“What is this place?” I croaked. “Where am I?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t speak too loudly. He doesn’t like noise.”

“Who is he?”

The girl looked up, and for the first time, our eyes met.

“The Blood King.”

I swallowed hard.

That wasn’t just a name. It was a title. One that whispered of power and terror, of wars fought in the dark and thrones built on bones.

She dipped the cloth again. “You’re lucky. Most humans who cross his path don’t wake up in silk sheets.”

“I don’t want luxury. I want my brother back.”

The cloth froze in her hand. I watched her jaw clench. She didn’t say anything. Maybe she was afraid of saying anything stupid.

My eyes burned, and the tears came silently. I turned my face away as she wiped dried blood from my neck, my shoulders, my arms.

She hesitated, then said, “You should rest. He will probably come for you tonight.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice raw. “Why not kill me in the alley like the others?”

Her eyes flickered. “Because he’s claimed you.”

She stood, gathering the basin. “And when the Blood King claims something… he doesn’t let go.”

—

I didn’t sleep.

Hours passed, maybe longer. Time stretched like taffy in that place. I watched the candlelight flicker and counted the sounds: distant footsteps, the hush of wind that wasn’t really wind, and the soft thud of my own heart, growing louder with each passing second.

And then the door opened again.

This time, it was him.

He simply walked in, the same way night follows sunset. Effortlessly. Unstoppably.

The vampire lord. The Blood King.

He wore all black, like mourning personified, his coat embroidered with silver thread and an old crest I didn’t recognize. His eyes were still crimson and unblinking. They locked onto mine like they could peel away every thought I tried to hide.

“You’re awake,” he said.

His voice was a smooth baritone, quieter than I expected. Dangerous in its softness.

I sat up slowly, glaring at him. “You murdered my brother.”

“He was in my way.” He didn’t deny it.

Rage surged inside me, burning hot, but I kept my voice low and steady. “Then kill me too.”

He tilted his head, almost curious. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” I hissed. “What I want is to see you burn for what you’ve done.”

Something flickered in his eyes, amusement, maybe, or interest. He stepped closer, and I shrank back against the headboard.

“You’re different,” he said softly. “They usually beg. Cry. Bargain.”

“I’m not like the others.”

“No,” he murmured. “You’re not.”

He stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at me. “Tell me your name.”

I didn’t answer.

He smiled. “I’ll find it out eventually.”

I glared at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly. “Why am I here?”

His gaze swept over me, not lasciviously, but like a predator measuring something for later. “Because your blood called to me.”

“What?”

“You screamed,” he said. “And it echoed through the dark like a song. It stirred something I thought long dead.”

I stared at him in horror. “You kept me alive because you liked the sound of my screams?”

“Among other things.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “I could taste your grief in the air. It was intoxicating.”

He didn’t touch me. But his presence was a touch in itself, heavy, pressing, inescapable.

“What do you want from me?” I whispered.

He studied me for a long moment. Then he said, “I want you to stay. And bleed. And break. I will suck your blood every night”

My breath caught in my chest, the moment I heard that.

“But not yet,” he added. “First, you’ll learn to behave. You’ll learn the rules. You’ll dine with me at sundown.”

“I’m not eating with a monster.”

He smiled again, slow and sharp. “You’re going to learn very quickly, little one, that refusing me is a luxury you no longer have.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, the door clicking shut behind him.

I collapsed onto the pillows, shaking, the silk cords now untied but I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Because the Blood King hadn’t locked the door behind him.

He didn’t need to.

I was already trapped.