The day drags on, slow and uneventful. Xavier drifts in and out of the room like a shadow, checking on me every hour or so. Each time, he says nothing more than a few words before vanishing again. It's... weirdly comforting. Like even in his silence, I'm not alone.
By the time night rolls in, I'm ready to crawl into bed and forget the day ever existed.
Just as I pull back the covers, the door creaks open one more time.
Xavier.
Without saying a word, he walks over and drops onto my bed like he owns the place.
I stare at him. "How may I help you?"
He closes his eyes briefly, sighing like I'm the one causing him stress. "By going to sleep and getting some proper rest for once."
I arch a brow. "Okay, but shouldn't you be asleep next to your wife?"
His eyes flick open. A slow, unreadable look crosses his face. "Just lay down."
I pause for dramatic effect, then crawl into bed and get comfortable under the covers. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?"
He ignores the jab, turning on his side to face away from me. "And in the morning," he adds, "try not to touch my face."
A smirk tugs at my lips. "Oh? Afraid I'll fall for you?"
That earns me a look over his shoulder. It's not annoyed. It's something else—quiet, unreadable… maybe even amused.
I shrug and roll onto my back, tugging the blankets up to my chin.
Silence settles between us again. It's not awkward. It's almost peaceful. The kind of silence that feels like a held breath.
I glance out the window. The moon hangs low in the sky, glowing silver and strong. There's something comforting about it—something ancient. Watching. Listening.
"Do you ever feel like the moon is trying to talk to you?" I murmur.
Xavier doesn't move.
"No," he replies flatly. "And if the moon could talk, she'd probably tell you to go to sleep."
I laugh softly. "Fair enough."
The quiet returns, deeper now. I close my eyes, but I don't fall asleep right away. I just breathe.
There's something about this moment—Xavier here, the moonlight, the weight of everything we're not saying—that makes it feel like something important is about to happen.
But it doesn't.
Instead, we just lie there.
Side by side.
Silent.
And for tonight… that's enough.
In the morning, I wake to soft sunlight filtering through the curtains. Xavier is still asleep beside me, completely still, his breath slow and even.
Curiosity wins over reason as I reach out, fingertips brushing toward his face—but I freeze.
Black veins crawl up his neck like smoke beneath the skin.
My heart skips. I jolt upright and shove his shoulder. "Xavier!"
He groans, squinting at me. "What?"
"Your neck." I point, voice sharp and alarmed.
His hand flies to the spot. The second he feels it, he bolts upright, leaps off the bed, and rushes out of the room without another word.
I blink after him, then let out a long, dramatic sigh. "And he's meant to be the Angel of Death?"
I laugh, a little louder than I should. "Yeah… as if."
Just then, Mum walks in, raising a brow. "Who are you talking to?"
"Me, myself, and I," I mutter, swinging my legs off the bed.
She gives me the once-over, then smiles. "We need to get you ready. You're meeting Lucien today."
I sigh and nod, dragging myself toward the wardrobe.
She eyes me knowingly. "So… no dresses or skirts?"
I smirk. "Please. I already have an idea."
She raises a brow and steps aside to let me do my thing.
A structured black corset-style top clings to me perfectly, cinching my waist with clean lines and sharp attitude. The leather skinny pants are sleek and skin-tight, giving just enough edge. My boots—oxblood lace-ups with a bold heel—click across the floor with every step. I choose simple hoops, a single gemstone ring, and slide on my black leather gloves for that final, dangerous touch.
My hair is slicked back into a high ponytail, sharp and intentional.
As I step out of my room, my mum's eyes immediately widen. Her jaw nearly hits the floor. I stop in my tracks, raising an eyebrow. "What? Is it bad?" I ask, unsure whether to laugh or feel self-conscious.
She shakes her head, speechless, as I walk past her to join the others. Xavier's gaze follows me, his eyes darkening with an intensity that isn't just about the usual hunger for blood. This time, it's something else entirely—a look that makes my skin tingle in ways I don't want to acknowledge.
"Go change your clothes," he demands, his voice laced with a tone I don't care for.
I cross my arms, standing tall. "I'm good, thanks. Shall we go?" I tilt my head, defiance bubbling under my calm exterior.
My dad chuckles from beside us, clearly entertained, and with a nod, we head out.
The drive is quiet, tension thick in the air. I can feel Xavier's eyes on me, his presence like an electric current. Then, as if unable to hold it back any longer, he mutters, "So, do you plan to seduce him or what?"
I lean in closer to him, just a little, until I'm almost breathing the same air. "What if it's for you instead?" I whisper.
His breath catches, and I can feel him leaning in too. But before anything else happens, my mum's voice breaks through the charged silence. "We have arrived."
We get out of the cars, and the moment my feet hit the ground, I'm struck by the imposing sight of the old castle looming before us. Its ancient stones and dark, weathered walls give off an eerie vibe, and I can almost hear the whispers of its history.
As the doors creak open, a woman steps forward. "Please, follow me."
We walk through the castle's cold halls, the low murmur of people's conversations hanging in the air. Eyes follow us as we pass, curious and calculating. Xavier's arm settles around my waist, pulling me slightly closer. He leans in and whispers in my ear, "I really wish you had changed your clothes."
I lean back into him, my voice a soft challenge. "And I wish you weren't so controlling."
He sighs—exasperated, but not enough to pull away.
Eventually, we arrive at a large room, the atmosphere darker here. A man sits at a long table, eating with the calmness of someone who owns the space. His eyes flick up as we enter, and he regards me with an unreadable expression.
"Come here, child," he commands, his voice deep and smooth.
I walk toward him slowly, my steps measured. When I'm close enough, I stop. "I prefer Shay, but if 'child' fits, then so be it," I reply, keeping my tone neutral but laced with an edge.
He eyes me, then extends his hand. I glance at Xavier, who nods, albeit reluctantly. With a sigh, I reach out and take Lucien's hand. His grip is firm, but not painful. He looks down at my hand with an almost too-studied expression.
"You have a new power," he says, his gaze piercing. "You died and were resurrected by an angel named Damien."
Xavier's voice cuts through the room, his tone tight. "She says she doesn't remember. Is that the truth?"
I feel the weight of his question, and for a moment, the air feels heavier. Lucien's gaze shifts between Xavier and me, his lips curling slightly as if he finds this exchange amusing.
Lucien studies me for a moment, then speaks, his voice smooth but filled with a certain darkness. "I would say she doesn't remember what happened after the door, but I can't read that far. Something or someone is blocking me—probably Damien. She's wearing his butterfly necklace."
I raise an eyebrow and respond dryly, "I actually received this when I was young, from my first boyfriend."
Lucien looks at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. I meet his gaze with a pointed look, and after a beat, he clears his throat. "Correct. Sorry."
He shifts his focus to Xavier, his expression unreadable. "I saw that."
Xavier exhales sharply and rubs the back of his neck. "What about why she passed out?"
Lucien's tone turns serious again. "Her magic is too strong for her to tame at the moment."
Xavier nods thoughtfully. "Okay, so it can happen again?"
I turn to Xavier, narrowing my eyes. "Why do you sound so happy about that?"
He stares at me for a long moment before answering in a clipped tone, "I do not."
Lucien chuckles softly, his amusement not entirely pleasant. "I agree with Shay. You did sound happy."
Xavier rolls his eyes. "Anyway, you can leave now."
As the tension in the room thickens, I slip out quietly, unnoticed by the others. I move through the winding halls of the castle, making my way to Xavier's office. The door creaks slightly as I enter, and I pause for a moment, taking in the familiar, yet somehow cold, atmosphere of his space.
I begin to search, the air thick with the weight of secrets, and that's when I spot it—a very old piece of paper tucked in a drawer. I pull it out carefully, its edges worn and yellowed with age. As I read the words scrawled across the page, a chill runs down my spine:
She will be mine.
I will consume her.
Isabella Morningstar will always be mine in life and death.
The words are haunting, and I can feel the air grow heavier with their dark promise. My hands tremble slightly as I hold the paper, but I can't look away. There's a knot forming in my stomach, and the sense that I've stumbled upon something much bigger than I could have ever imagined tightens around me.
I hear footsteps approaching, and suddenly, Damien appears, quickly slipping the note back into its place before anyone notices. Before I can process what's happening, my surroundings blur, and I find myself back in my room.
"What the hell just happened?" I whisper, confusion crawling through me.
"That was my dad staking his claim... before you were even born," Damien answers quietly, his tone heavy with something I can't place.
I look at him, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "What do I do, Damien? I can't be around him. Not after that."
He takes a breath, offering me a faint, reassuring smile. "You have to, but not for long. I promise you, it will all get better."
I nod, but before I can say anything more, Xavier's voice cuts through the air, sharp and demanding. "ISABELLA!"
Damien looks at me. "Quick, get in the shower, take your clothes off, so he knows it wasn't you."
I don't have time to argue, quickly doing as he says. The loud bang of my bedroom door slamming open follows shortly after, and then Xavier barges in.
I scream, instinctively reaching for a towel to cover myself. "What the hell is your problem?" I shout, my heart racing.
"I'm sorry, I didn't—" Xavier stammers, his eyes widening in shock.
"Know? That's obvious!" I shout back, my frustration boiling over.
He spins on his heel, quickly retreating, and I let out a breath of relief.
After getting out of the shower, I throw on a black hoodie and leggings, trying to steady my pulse. When I leave the bathroom, I find Xavier sitting on my bed, his gaze fixed on me.
"Were you in my office?" His voice is calm but with an underlying tension.
I meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow. "No. I wasn't in your office. I spilled my drink on myself and didn't want to get sticky."
He stands and walks toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. "Shay, I'm not a fool, so don't treat me like one. I know Damien has told you everything."
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, he cuts me off. "I'll see you soon," he says, his tone clipped, and then he leaves.
Damien appears in the doorway right after Xavier walks out.
"That can't be good," I murmur, my heart pounding in my chest.
Damien sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Just keep acting like you don't know anything."
I nod, though my stomach churns with unease.