Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Rhea.
The first thing I felt was pain. It was dull, bone deep, and heavy like my body had been tossed against stone and left there. My throat was raw, my chest tight, and when I blinked the world into focus, I knew immediately something was wrong. Very very wrong.

I wasn’t outside.

The fence,the cold grass tickling my legs, the night air biting at my skin. They were all gone. Instead, soft shadows stretched along the almost dark walls, the faint flicker of firelight licking the corners.

Low lights that seemed to be built in with the ceiling stared back at me, and for a brief moment, I blinked back a couple of times, hoping that somehow the scene around me was going to change.

It didn't.

The room was vast, draped in heavy curtains and lined with shelves of ancient books. A small chandelier hung from above, and I didn't miss the sharp scent of cedar, steel and something eerily familiar I didn't want to recognize. It lingered around, and the bedding beneath me was far too soft to be anything I would have chosen.

It hit me then, barely a second later, and I froze, just momentarily. This wasn’t the room Alaric had pointed out as mine.

I knew because I had gone there earlier, scouring for anything useful, a pen, a scrap of paper, more comfy clothes too. Literally anything I could use to plan my escape. That space had been neat, sterile like it was wiped and doused with chemicals every moment they got.

This one was different. It looked lived in and guarded, and the striking resemblance to the ambience in the living room gave me all the answers I didn't know I needed. The realization curdled in my stomach, and I fought the urge to barf.

I was in his room. Alaric's room.

Oh fuck me.

“How was your little adventure?” His voice cut through the silence, smooth and taunting. My head whipped to the side, and caught him just in time to see him emerging from the shadows like he belonged to them. His eyes caught the flames from the fireplace burning in the corner, sharp and unblinking, and I could swear he was amused.

The amusement snapped something in me.

“Fuck you.” I spat the words out immediately. They were ragged, my chest heaving as I lurched upright. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

He didn’t flinch, not when my voice cracked, not when I jabbed a shaking finger at him like an accusation sharp enough to cut.

“At the gate, I didn’t just collapse, there was no way that could have happened. That wasn’t me. You did something! You…..” My throat burned, but I didn't let it stop me. “Tell me what the fuck you did to me.”

His expression didn’t change, and that infuriating calmness only made my blood boil hotter.

“Get some rest, Rhea.” He gestured, maddeningly casual, toward the bedside table where a glass of water sat untouched. It was probably ridiculous, but my mind screamed at me that he'd probably poisoned it so I could slip into a deep sleep or worse, become paralyzed from the leg down. “You’ll need it.”

That was it. That was all I got from the damned vampire and without warning he turned to leave. Just like that.

Rage surged through me, snapping me out of the sheets. My legs trembled as a slight wobble passed through me, but I forced them to hold, and before I could second guess myself, I lunged.

He caught me before I even made contact. One hand clamped around my wrist, firm but careful, and in the next breath, my back hit the hard edge of a bookshelf. A small gasp slid past my lips as the jolt rattled the wooden frame, dust whispering from its crown. It all happened so fast that I struggled with what had just happened, but my breath hitched as his body leaned in, caging me there.

His gaze pinned me. It was unrelenting, and in it, I hated myself for noticing it, something raw.

Want, desire, and something that made my pulse skip against my will.

“Let go,” I hissed, though my voice betrayed me. It trembled like a sick child’s, and my insides flamed at the thought of him mocking me in his thoughts. “Let me go, you freak.”

He didn’t. He didn’t move at all. His stare was silent and suffocating, and when he leaned closer, so close his breath ghosted over my cheek, my chest tightened.

My eyes widened, and for just a split second, I allowed my mind to roam and come up with a million and one scenarios where he actually pressed his lips against mine.

Was he really going to do it? And how was I going to react? Was I going to kiss him back?

“Don’t,” I blurted, heart hammering, convinced he was about to kiss me. “Don’t you dare try to kiss me….”

But his hand moved, not to touch me, but to the side of my head. His fingers curled around a dusty, leather bound book lodged high in the shelf, and with a swift tug, he slid it free, the weight of it solid and old in his palm.

He didn’t release me, not fully, but he flipped the book open, the pages whispering until he found the middle. And then, without ceremony, he shoved it up toward my face.

“Read.” The command was soft, deadly. A combination I now knew automatically translated into something bad.

My eyes flicked to the page, ready to spit some retort, but the words stole the air from my throat.

Symbols etched in blood red ink, foreign yet familiar, seemed to pulse on the parchment. Beneath them, a passage written in jagged script carved its way into me.

The bond.
Bound by blood and breath.
Bound by will and curse.
Neither shall drift beyond the other’s reach.
To sever the distance is to court ruin.
To break the tether is to invite death.

The book slipped slightly in my grip as the realization clawed at me.

No, no. This couldn't be happening. There was no way this could be happening.

My breath stilled, but somehow Alaric still found it convenient to slip in a witty remark.

“Now.” He drawled, his eyes dark. “What were you saying about that kiss?”

Oh shit.