Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
The sound he made barely qualified as sound. It was low, feral, and the kind of noise nightmares kept buried deep. It skated over my skin and tightened every muscle to fight or run. I pressed against the stone wall, heart thundering, a scream trapped behind my teeth. And yet, buried under the terror, something else stirred… an inexplicable certainty that I was not his prey.
With him, I would not be harmed. Reality was louder.
Panic surged. He closed his eyes, forced himself deeper into the corner until darkness swallowed him whole. Then, after long, agonizing seconds ticked by, he stepped forward into the candlelight, and the air left my lungs.
The monstrous visage slipped, revealing the brutal beauty of the man. And still… all that blood. Heat flashed through me so hard it felt like lightning. His mouth was red, his teeth stained, the twin points of his canines leaving no doubt what he was and what he used them for. Blood slicked down his throat, coursing a trail over the huge muscles of chest and dripping lower over his defined abs before saturating the front of his pants.
Those teeth were made to tear, to latch on, to drink a body empty.
For a breath, we didn’t move, both caught in the same dark snare. The undercroft seemed to exhale with the weight of blood and stone, the cold air curling around me as if urging me to turn and flee.
His gaze never wavered from mine as he moved toward the stag and crouched beside it. He pressed one broad hand to its chest, fingers smoothing over the matted fur with a tenderness so at odds with the carnage that something inside me seized. His lips moved, a low murmur spilling from him—words I couldn’t decipher, yet they struck me with a strange familiarity.
I didn’t need to understand the language to know its meaning. Some quiet part of me recognized it, whispered the truth before my mind could catch up… he was thanking the creature for its life.
The cadence of his voice clawed at something buried deep inside me. I shouldn’t have recognized it, yet the sound threaded through me like an echo I’d once known. A shiver lifted the hairs along my arms, not of fear but of familiarity. It was as if I had heard that same tone whispered against my skin in another life, words meant only for me.
He didn’t hide what he was. He didn’t pretend. He simply wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the blood into a darker mask. When he spoke, his voice was steady, low—deeper than I’d ever heard it.
“In the beginning, I fed on humans,” he said. “For decades. For several hundreds of years, in fact. My enemies. The worst of humankind. It was the only mercy I allowed myself—not killing the innocent. I don’t even remember when I started feeding on animals. But this one…” He gestured to the stag. “He was dying at the edge of the property. He wouldn’t have seen dawn. I did him a mercy.”
I swallowed. The taste in my mouth went sour. “You don’t feed on humans?” The words felt absurd even as I spoke them. “You don’t kill them… anymore?”
“I feed when I must. I stopped killing a century ago.” He didn’t explain further, and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
Silence bled into the stone room, chilling me from the inside out. The stag lay still, its black eyes glassy, a sadness clinging to it even in death. My hands felt stupid at my sides, and I dug my nails into my palms until crescent moons bit my skin.
“I didn’t mean to come down here,” I whispered. “I didn’t want to… see this.”
“I didn’t want you to,” he said evenly. “But it was inevitable. You needed to see—really see, Clara—what I am.”
My throat worked around a hard swallow. “Why? Why would you want me to see this?”
For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then, softly, Ivan murmured, “Because you’re mine. And the devil has already claimed you, Clara. I’m a predator, but I would never hurt you. I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to try.”
He stepped away from the carcass toward a stone basin sunk into the wall that I hadn’t even noticed before. I stood frozen, watching as he dipped his hands into the water and clouded it dark, washing the gore from his skin. When he finished, he used his discarded shirt to wipe his mouth.
It looked like a ritual—obscene and deliberate all at once. When Ivan turned back, the monster wasn’t gone. It was simply contained, as if he’d drawn a curtain over it for my sake.
“You’re scared,” he said quietly. “Angry.” It wasn’t a question. His voice had softened just enough to ease the sharp edge of my fear.