She had barely drawn a breath when she saw her brother gasp in agony, clutching his throat with desperate fingers. Blood poured from the wound in thick, pulsing waves, spilling between his fingers like a broken faucet that wouldn't stop.
Her eyes went wide with horror. The scream that tore from her throat was raw—thick with grief, heavy with pain, and burning with rage.
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she gasped and bolted toward him, uncaring of the blade that had narrowly missed her. She caught him just as he collapsed, her arms wrapping around his blood-soaked body.
She sobbed, her whole frame shaking as she stared at his face. His features were frozen in an expression of agony and disbelief, and his eyes, glassy and wide, locked on hers. Desperately, she pressed a piece of cloth to his neck, trembling hands slick with his blood. She knew it was futile. The wound was too deep. The flow too strong.
Her brother was dying. He would die.
Tears streaked across her face as she whipped her head around to face the man standing calmly nearby—the man who had ordered this.
"WHY?!" she screamed, voice shattering from emotion. "We've done nothing to you!"
The fury in her voice cracked through the air like thunder, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.
"We never did anything to you!" she screamed again, voice hoarse. Her heart pounded as she felt the life slipping out of her brother's body, helpless to stop it.
The man looked at her, expression unreadable. His crimson eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't reply. But then—he spoke.
His voice was low and cold.
"Where do you think your father and brother go every night?" he asked. "Hunting? Yes. For vampires—as practice."
He took a slow step forward, his presence dark and commanding. "The Council has decided. All hunters are to be killed on sight."
As he raised his hand in signal, Aria instantly knew. He was ordering the same guard—the one who had murdered her family—to kill her too.
Her brother went still in her arms. His breath stopped.
And something inside her snapped.
A fire ignited in her very soul—hot, violent, consuming. Her grief was eclipsed by an all-consuming rage. With a scream so fierce it echoed through the forest clearing, she grabbed her brother's fallen sword. Blood dripped from her hands as she surged forward, blade clutched tight.
"DIE! You monster from the pit of hell!" she shrieked, fury exploding from her throat as she charged.
She didn't care that her hands were trembling or that her clothes were soaked with blood. She didn't care that this man was stronger, faster—untouchable. Nothing mattered. Not even her own life.
The sword raised high above her head, she hurled herself forward, ready to bury the blade in his chest.
But in an instant, everything stopped.
A massive hand clamped around her neck with crushing force. Her body jerked as the sword clattered from her fingers. She clawed at his hand, gasping, struggling for air.
Her legs kicked against the ground, her vision blurring at the edges.
He leaned in close, his crimson eyes glinting with ruthless amusement, a smirk curling on his lips.
"You… you'll die for what you did…" she gasped, every word a struggle.
But then came another voice—the guard who had murdered her brother.
"My King! Allow me!" the guard cried, dropping to one knee. "You don't have to stain your royal hands with this filthy human's blood!"
Aria's eyes widened in horror. King?
Her terrified gaze shot back to the man who still held her throat with ease. He hadn't broken a sweat. She could feel the power radiating from him, like death incarnate. He could snap her neck with a flick of his fingers.
Instead… he let go.
With a dismissive shove, he threw her backward. She hit the ground hard, her body folding from the impact.
Coughing, she clutched her throat. But before she could fully recover, he stepped closer.
"Your eyes… they look—" he began.
But Aria didn't let him finish.
She spat at him, face twisted in defiance. It wasn't enough to reach his face, so her spit hit his boot instead, blood and saliva glistening against the dark leather.
"I don't care who you are!" she hissed, tears still falling. "You're evil—and you will burn for this!"
To her shock, he crouched down in front of her, bringing himself to her eye level. Her heart pounded as she watched his every move, wary of another attack.
"You killed my… my father!" she screamed, her voice breaking, her gaze flicking to the bloodied bodies behind her. The sight made her stomach twist with grief.
"You… you're a monster," she whispered, trembling.
But then, he smiled. That same haunting smirk.
And in a voice rich with authority and confidence, he cut her off.
"I like your eyes," he said softly. "I like the way you look at me."
Aria recoiled, fury replacing her fear.
"I'd rather cut off your head and eat it!" she snarled.
His smirk only widened as he watched her glance toward the sword she had dropped, lying just a few feet away.
"If you go for that sword again," he said coolly, "I'll end you before you can lay a finger on it."
"There's a difference between indulgence… and stupidity."
"The first I can allow. The second…" He didn't need to finish.
"Kill me!" she shouted. "You already killed my—"
But her words faltered.
A strange shudder rippled through her body, sudden and unexpected. The sensation clawed beneath her skin—a tingling heat that spread like wildfire. At first, it was merely warm. Then it grew hotter, rising from her belly and spreading through her limbs like liquid fire.
She bent over, a pained groan escaping her lips. Her fingers dug into the dirt as her thighs pressed together tightly. She didn't completely understand what was happening to her but it was something her father had mentioned before. Something that scared her.
Then she felt it—a wetness beneath her clothes and between her legs, unfamiliar and terrifying. A need in her body that screamed for her to take off her clothes, part her legs and present her body to the monster in front of her
Panic flared in her eyes.
"Kill me!" she cried again, scrambling back. "If you don't—I'll kill you!"
But he didn't answer. He was sniffing the air.
"You smell… wet," he said, voice calm, almost amused. Like he was commenting on the weather.
Aria's breath hitched. She froze in place, confusion and shame clashing in her gaze.
"You smell good," he said again, this time slower. His eyes traveled down her body, sharp and assessing. "If I didn't know better… I'd say you're presenting."
His brow furrowed slightly, and then he added, more to himself than her, "But you can't. Only vampire females do that…"