Elena's POV
The sun was beginning to dip beyond the high stone walls of the castle, casting long shadows over the cobbled paths. Golden light filtered through the stained glass of the corridor windows as Elena followed Darius in silence.
He hadn't said much since their encounter with Vivian. He didn't need to. His presence alone filled the halls like a stormcloud before thunder.
"Come," he said again, his voice low, velvet smooth.
He led her through a tall set of iron-etched glass doors, revealing a courtyard garden unlike anything she had seen before.
Twisting ivy hugged black columns. Pale moon roses bloomed beneath silver trees that shimmered like frost under the setting sun. A path of crushed white stones cut through a field of midnight-blue flowers. It looked like something from a dream—or a nightmare whispered in beauty's disguise.
Elena paused at the threshold, stunned.
Darius kept walking, the hem of his coat brushing the flowers as if they parted for him. "This is the one place in the castle untouched by blood."
She blinked. "Blood?"
He looked back at her, eyes like red firelight. "Don't worry. You won't find it here."
Only more questions.
She followed, unsure what to say. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—it was charged, like something waiting to spark.
He stopped beside a fountain shaped like a crescent moon. A white dove flew down and landed on the rim before fluttering off.
"This garden is off limits to everyone else," Darius said without looking at her. "You'll come here when I tell you to."
"Why me?"
He turned toward her, his gaze lingering on her face, then down to her wrists—still faintly marked from the chains.
"Because I said so."
Elena frowned but said nothing.
She wandered to a black rose bush and reached out to touch a petal. It felt cool, almost like silk.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"It was grown from the blood of kings," he said casually.
She froze.
He stepped closer, his breath brushing her ear.
"Even beauty here is born in pain."
She turned to look at him—and for the first time, she didn't see just the monster from the auction. There was something else behind those red eyes. Something old. Something tired.
"You're not what I expected," she said quietly.
He smirked. "Neither are you."
Then, without another word, he walked ahead, deeper into the garden. She followed, drawn not by fear—but by the growing question behind her ribs:
Who is this man who bought her with gold, but touches nothing gently… except her?
---
Darius's POV
The scent of moon roses still clung to his coat as he stepped through the arching blackwood doors of his private chamber. The cold air shifted, as if the castle itself exhaled at his return.
He hated the silence here.
Or maybe he hated what it allowed him to feel.
Her voice lingered in his mind—soft, uncertain.
> "It's beautiful."
"You're not what I expected."
Darius exhaled slowly, pulling off his gloves one finger at a time.
Storm-grey eyes. That was what she saw.
He had shifted them back just in time.
But they had turned red.
Because she'd been too close.
Because the scent of her blood was unlike anything he had known in centuries—warm, sweet, ancient in a way that whispered to the monster inside him.
He had nearly lost control.
That alone disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
His jaw tightened as he approached the tall mirror. His reflection stared back—flawless, cold, deceiving.
He looked like a man.
But he wasn't.
Not truly.
Across the chamber, the black velvet-draped canvas drew his attention like a phantom. He stepped toward it, his fingers brushing the edge of the cloth.
He didn't pull it back.
He didn't need to.
He remembered every detail of what lay beneath.
And he wasn't ready to see her face again. Not like that.
Not yet.
A knock broke the tension in the room.
He didn't respond.
The door creaked open anyway.
Lucian entered, silent as shadow. "Your Grace, Lady Vivian seeks audience."
Darius didn't turn. "What for?"
"She's displeased. About the girl."
"She'll survive her bruised ego."
Lucian stepped closer, his voice low. "She's not the only one troubled by this. There are whispers… the girl unsettles even the guards."
Darius turned, slowly.
His gaze pinned Lucian in place.
"She's not a threat," he said, voice calm, but laced with steel. "She's the key."
Lucian lowered his head. "Yes, my lord."
.