Chapter 3 Three

Chapter Three

The night came too quickly.

The mansion seemed to fall into silence the moment the sun disappeared beyond the forest. The air grew colder, heavier , almost charged, like the walls were holding their breath.

Dinner had been delivered to my room on a silver tray, untouched. My stomach was in knots. No matter how many times I told myself this was just a job, the thought of walking into that man’s room made my pulse race until it hurt.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.

The black silk slip from the box clung to me like a secret.

It was the kind of thing I’d only seen in magazines, not something I’d ever imagined wearing. The thin straps, the way it brushed mid-thigh , every inch of it screamed seduction.

I didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror.

Her lips looked too soft. Her eyes too unsure.

“This is just work,” I whispered to my reflection. “Thirty days. Then you leave.”

I tried to believe it. But even my voice trembled.

The clock struck eleven when I heard the knock.

Mrs. Blake stood outside the door, her face calm as always, but her hands were tight around the lantern she held. “Mr. Donovan is ready for you,” she said.

Ready for me.

The words sent a shiver down my spine.

I followed her down the long, dim corridor. The lights were low, the air thick with a faint scent of rain and pine. The hall stretched endlessly, lined with paintings of people I didn’t recognize , all with the same silver eyes.

The deeper we went, the quieter the house became.

It was as if the mansion itself was asleep.

Mrs. Blake stopped before a tall black door at the far end of the west wing. My pulse drummed in my ears. She didn’t look at me when she spoke.

“Knock once,” she said softly. “And when you enter… don’t speak unless he asks.”

I frowned. “Why, ”

Her eyes flicked to mine then , quick, warning. “Just don’t.”

Before I could ask again, she turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone with the black door and the storm that raged somewhere deep in my chest.

I raised my hand and knocked once.

The sound echoed.

“Come in,” his voice said, low and calm from within.

I pushed the door open.

The room was huge , darker than I expected, lit only by the flicker of a fireplace. Shadows danced along the walls, kissing the edges of expensive furniture and dark bookshelves. The scent of sandalwood and something wilder filled the air.

Kael stood near the window, his back to me, shirt unbuttoned halfway, the dim light catching the hard lines of his shoulders.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t turn right away.

When he finally did, his eyes caught the firelight , cold silver melting into warmth for just a second.

“You’re early,” he said.

I swallowed. “You said eleven.”

He gave a faint, amused sound. “I did.”

He looked me over once, slowly, his gaze trailing from the straps of my dress down to the hem. I felt exposed, like he could see through fabric and skin and straight into my thoughts.

“That will do,” he said simply, walking toward me. Each step was deliberate, quiet, the kind of movement that made the air feel too small.

When he stopped in front of me, my heart was beating so hard I thought it might echo. He reached out, his fingers brushing my chin lightly , just enough to tilt my head upward.

His touch was cold.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You’re nervous,” he said, more as observation than judgment. “That’s good. It means you understand what this is.”

I wanted to speak , to tell him I wasn’t scared of him, or to ask what exactly this was , but words stuck in my throat.

He leaned closer. “Do you know why I chose you, Aria?”

I shook my head slowly.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “Because you don’t know what you are.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped back, eyes turning darker. “Take off the robe,” he said quietly. “And come here.”

Something in his voice made my knees weak , not lust, not fear, but something in between. The kind that pulls you toward the fire even when you know you’ll burn.

I did as he asked, my fingers trembling against the silk tie. The robe slid off my shoulders, pooling silently on the floor. His gaze didn’t move, but his jaw tightened, a muscle ticking there.

“Good,” he said. His voice sounded different , rougher. Lower. “Now come closer.”

When I did, he reached for me again, his fingers brushing against my collarbone, then down to the curve of my throat. The contact sent a jolt through me. He looked like he was fighting something , his breathing deeper now, eyes too sharp.

Then he suddenly stepped away.

“Enough,” he muttered, turning his back to me.

I blinked, confused. “Did I, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said, voice strained. “Leave. Now.”

“What?”

“Go to your room.” His tone was harsher, almost a growl. “Before I stop caring about what happens next.”

My heart thudded painfully. “You, you said tonight it starts.”

His head turned slightly, and when he looked at me, I saw it , his pupils weren’t normal. They’d stretched, darkened, swallowing the gray.

For one terrifying heartbeat, I thought I saw them flash silver.

“Aria,” he said, low and tight, “leave.”

Something primal in his voice made me obey.

I snatched the robe from the floor, clutching it against me as I backed toward the door. He didn’t move, didn’t turn, just stood there breathing heavily, his hand gripping the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles went white.

I pulled the door open, stepping out into the hall , and then I heard it.

A sound that didn’t belong in any house.

A low, guttural snarl.

I froze. My blood went cold.

It came from behind the door I’d just closed.

Then glass shattered.

A sharp crash echoed through the hall, followed by the heavy thud of something hitting the floor.

“Mr. Donovan?” I whispered, hand shaking on the doorknob.

There was no answer. Just silence.

And then… another sound. A growl , deeper this time, echoing through the floorboards.

Every instinct screamed run.

I turned and ran down the hall, bare feet slapping against the marble, robe trailing behind me. By the time I reached my room, my chest was heaving, my hands shaking too hard to turn the lock.

I pressed my back to the door, heart slamming, breath ragged.

What was that?

That wasn’t human.

When I finally forced myself to crawl into bed, I couldn’t stop shaking. My mind replayed the sound , the growl, the crash, the strange light in his eyes.

Sleep didn’t come.

And when dawn finally touched the horizon, I thought I heard something again , faint, far away.

Howling.

Long, mournful, and wild.

I buried my face in the pillow, pretending not to hear it.

Pretending that the man downstairs wasn’t the one making that sound.