Lucien took Seraphina to his estate beneath the pretence of protecting her.
She told herself she had agreed because she needed answers, not because the vampire king made her pulse quicken whenever he stood too close.
His mansion rose above the cliffs, an enormous Gothic structure surrounded by iron gates and gardens of black roses. Inside, chandeliers illuminated marble floors, ancient portraits, and corridors that seemed to hold centuries of secrets.
"You bring strangers into your home often?" she asked.
"No."
"Then I must be special."
Lucien turned towards her.
"You have no idea."
He explained that her pendant belonged to an ancient bloodline believed to have disappeared centuries ago. Its power could weaken the oldest vampire curses—and destroy the balance between vampire kingdoms.
Seraphina listened, increasingly convinced that he was either insane or telling her the truth.
"What do you want from me?"
His silence was answer enough.
She stepped closer. "If you intend to frighten me into obedience, you should know that I have survived worse men than you."
Lucien's eyes darkened.
"I have never needed obedience from a woman, Seraphina."
"Then why are you looking at me as though you want to lock me away?"
He leaned towards her, stopping close enough for her to feel the cold of him.
"Because every instinct I possess tells me to keep you where nothing can touch you."
"And what does the rest of you want?"
For one breathless moment, the king had no answer.
Then his gaze fell to her lips.
"The rest of me," he murmured, "is becoming a very serious problem."
He withdrew before she could respond.
That night, Seraphina found a note beneath her bedroom door.
Do not trust the king.
There was no signature.
Only a small mark drawn in black ink: a crown split down the middle.
She looked towards the window.
On the balcony below, Damien Voss stood beneath the moonlight, watching her.
When their eyes met, he raised a glass in a silent toast.
And smiled.