Chapter 16

My conversation with Gosto was abruptly cut short when one of his servants slipped into the room, whispering something urgent into his ear. Gosto’s jaw tensed, and a flicker of fury passed over his face before he stood and apologized, excusing himself with swift, commanding steps. Moments later, another servant arrived, guiding me back to my chamber. The mountain of questions I had piled up would have to remain unanswered for now.

As the door shut behind me, silence swallowed the room. Everything Gosto had said returned in full force, slamming into me with brutal clarity. The suffocating sensation of entrapment curled around my chest. I stood frozen in the middle of my lavish chamber, suddenly claustrophobic despite its size. My lungs strained as I fought to breathe, each inhale feeling too shallow, too sharp.

I’d always believed I could adapt to anything but this? This was breaking me.

The Mortal Realm, despite all its bitterness and disappointment, was mine. It was familiar. I’d carved out plans there earning my degree, dreaming of a job, a life of my own making. That world made sense. But now, it was gone. And this... this surreal place was supposed to be my new reality?

Could I even work here? Were humans permitted employment in the Underworld? Every simple matter had morphed into a labyrinth.

And then, there was Gosto.

The man who made my pulse spike for all the wrong reasons. The one who claimed me marked me as his. Who admitted, without flinching, that he craved my blood. Who promised me a new life... and terrified me with that very promise.

How could I trust him? He wasn’t just dangerous he was seductive, unpredictable, and utterly beyond my control. I hated how vulnerable that made me feel.

Worse still was my body's response. I should’ve been revolted. Just thinking about a vampire sinking their teeth into me had always made my stomach turn. But Gosto? The sight of his fangs, the hunger in his eyes it stirred something inside me. Something dark and traitorous.

Something was wrong with me.

He'd said accidents could happen while feeding. That fact should have paralyzed me with fear. But it didn’t. It thrilled me. I wanted to scream. A strangled sound tore from my throat as I collapsed onto the bed. Maybe it was how he looked at me like I was more than just food. Or maybe I was simply desperate to feel desired, even if it meant mistaking bloodlust for affection.

Pathetic.

A knock startled me upright. I tensed. "Who is it?" I called.

“It’s me, Diamante. I came to check on your wound.”

I opened the door and let her in. She entered with her usual easy confidence, already rummaging through the drawer for ointments and antiseptic. “So,” she said, her grin sharp with curiosity, “how was lunch with Gosto?”

My face burned. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly twelve again. “It was... fine,” I mumbled.

Diamante’s head snapped toward me. Her eyes widened with amusement. “Oh, goddess...” she laughed. “You like him.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

“Not that I blame you,” she added, eyes gleaming. “Gosto’s one-of-a-kind. Gorgeous, dangerous, and totally fuckable. And from what I know, he’s been interested in you since day one.”

My cheeks caught fire. “It’s because of my blood,” I whispered, trying to convince both her and myself. “He said it smells... appealing.”

Diamante arched a brow. “Gosto doesn’t need anyone’s blood. He’s of one of the most powerful bloodlines in existence. If he wants to bite you, it’s not just about your scent it’s about you.”

I needed cold air. Or a snowstorm. Or a bucket of ice.

I swallowed and forced out, “He said I might be in danger... that my scent attracts attention.”

Diamante’s smile faltered. “He’s not wrong. I usually drink blood once or twice a month, but today? I needed two doses just knowing I’d be treating your wound. I used to work in a human hospital, and nothing fazed me but you? You're a walking temptation.”

A chill moved through me. “But... I can’t be compelled, right? Doesn’t that mean no one can bite me unless I allow it?”

She gave me a crooked smile. “It’s a law, Domitilla. Not a shield. And believe me some vampires would risk death to break that law for someone who smells like you.”

A humorless laugh escaped me, but something tugged at my memory. “The Head of the Night Council said if I was unwilling, Gosto wouldn’t find my blood enjoyable. He didn’t mention any law.”

Diamante sighed. “Because that part isn’t about law. It’s chemistry. Blood changes taste depending on what the donor feels. Fear and pain make it sour. Desire, excitement they add spice. Love? That’s the rarest flavor of all. That’s why the council uses compulsion to force the right emotions.”

Her expression twisted with disdain. “They don’t bother with kindness. They don’t care to make a donor willing.”

A shudder racked me. “So Gosto’s just... playing nice to make my blood taste better?”

Diamante studied me, then gave a wicked grin. “You know, I hate compulsion. I prefer sharing blood with my human lover during sex. It’s intimate, powerful. I bet Gosto could make the bite”

“Oh my God, stop!” I yelped, burying my face in my hands.

Diamante laughed, but kept her promise to shut up. She gently applied ointment to my back while I sat burning with heat not from pain, but from the images in my head. Gosto’s hungry stare haunted me, and the ache between my thighs grew worse. By sunset, my body was consumed with a heat so deep it made me consider impaling myself on the lotion bottle.

Pathetic wasn’t a strong enough word.

The sky was black, the moon bright and full. I should’ve been exhausted, but instead I wandered to the tall windows in my silk nightgown, the fabric whispering over my skin. The moon here seemed bigger, its glow almost hypnotic.

And then... a presence.

Every nerve in my body lit up. I didn’t need to see him to know Gosto was in the room. I inhaled, and there it was: that intoxicating storm-scent that belonged only to him.

He moved behind me, voice a velvet whisper. “Were you waiting for me?”

“H-how did you get in?” I stammered. I’d locked the door myself.

His chuckle raked over me. “There’s a hidden passage behind your bookshelf. Leads straight to my room.”

My blood froze. “Y-your room is next to mine?”

Another amused laugh, and then his arms circled my waist, pulling me flush against his body. His lips grazed my ear. “Mmhm. Convenient, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Do you want me to bite you?” he murmured, teeth brushing my neck.

“I... I don’t know.”

“Oh, but you do.” His hands slid to my hips, pressing me against the hard length of him. “You’re scared. But you don’t have to be.”

I turned to face him. His eyes burned red, casting eerie shadows across his face. My heart stuttered.

“Tell me what you want, Domitilla.”

The sound of my name nearly unraveled me. My hands found his shoulders, then his neck.

“Am I dreaming?” I whispered.

He smiled. “Does it matter?”

“It does.”

“Why?”

“Because... I want this to be real.”

His answer was a kiss raw, consuming, deliciously reckless. His mouth claimed mine, tongue searching, branding, mapping my desire. I moaned into him, pulling him closer, lost to the storm of him.

Then he pulled away. Smiling. “Next time, Domitilla.”

Confused, breathless, I opened my mouth to ask what he meant

And woke up.

The sun was shining.

“Fucking hell,” I groaned, stretching beneath the covers. Another dream. Another filthy, frustrating dream. I needed sleeping pills. Or a cold shower. But my back was still bandaged. Splashing water on my face was the best I could manage.

As I stood, one detail from the dream nagged at me.

“Passage behind the bookshelf,” I muttered.

My heart pounded as I approached the massive wooden structure. I examined the books, pulling a few at random. Nothing happened. I had nearly given up when I heard a soft shuffle.

Not from the bookshelf but from the door.

I turned, frowning, and spotted a folded piece of paper on the floor. Someone had slipped it under.

I bent to pick it up. The handwriting was sharp, urgent.

You are not safe here. He's going to kill you.