The grand hall of the mansion was eerily quiet. The chandeliers flickered with pale blue flames, casting dancing shadows across the black-marble floor. Mira's bare feet padded softly as she walked down the corridor, her heart thundering louder with each step. The silver bite marks on her neck ached faintly—constant reminders of the four that now ruled over her blood, her fate, and her very soul.
She didn't want to be afraid. Not anymore.
She had questions.
She needed the truth.
Pushing open the double doors, she entered the throne chamber—the place they always gathered when plotting or punishing. The four were already there. Their tall, regal forms seated like fallen gods upon raised, obsidian thrones.
Lucien, sharp-eyed and silent, fingers tapping the armrest lazily.
Kael, the coldest of the four, his eyes narrowed as if her presence alone disgusted him.
Darian, lips curled into a half-smirk, ever the cruel observer.
And Varek, sitting like a storm restrained, knuckles white on the stone arms of his throne.
Mira took a breath, voice trembling yet defiant.
"You need to tell me the truth. About my parents. About me. About this bond you've cursed me with!"
Kael rose slowly.
The temperature dropped.
He descended the steps, each step echoing with menace until he stood directly in front of her.
"You dare raise your voice in our hall?" he hissed, his breath sharp with frost. "You think because we drank from you, because you carry our mark, that you're equal?"
"I didn't ask for this!" she snapped back, though her voice wavered. "You forced this—"
Suddenly, Kael's hand shot out—his fingers cold and steel-like, gripping her chin, yanking her face up.
"We didn't choose you," he growled. "We were bound to you. A curse stitched into our bones. And if you ever raise your voice again in front of us…"
His eyes glowed silver.
"…you'll beg to be silenced."
Before she could speak, the others moved.
Lucien stood, his body already shifting—his skin pale as moonlight, veins pulsing black. His fangs elongated. Darian and Varek followed, each transforming before her eyes, their vampire forms no longer cloaked behind human skin.
Their auras burst forth.
Mira stumbled back instinctively, her body shivering as their combined presence pressed down on her like a mountain of shadow and lust and power.
"W-What are you doing…" she whispered, her heart racing.
"We warned you," Lucien said, his voice echoing like thunder.
"You questioned us," Darian added, eyes like molten iron.
"You challenged your Lords," Varek finished.
In a blur of speed, she was lifted—her back against Kael's chest, cold hands wrapping around her wrists, pinning her with unnatural strength.
"You wanted to know your place?" Kael's whisper burned in her ear. "We'll show you."
Her breath hitched.
Four sets of fangs. Four monstrous, gorgeous forms. Her dress was ripped from her like paper, her skin reacting to the energy, the bite of their hunger, the truth of what they were.
They didn't touch her like men.
They claimed her like monsters.
One at her throat. Another at her shoulder. A third brushing fangs down the length of her spine while the fourth pressed cruel kisses between her thighs.
It was more than physical—it was primal, ancient, devastating.
She cried out, her fingers clutching marble, unable to resist the overwhelming surge of pain and pleasure. They didn't go slow. Not this time. They didn't hold back.
They didn't have to.
Mira's mind broke into fragments—each Lord taking a piece of her until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Every second blurred into the next: the taste of blood on her lips, the sting of bites on her skin, the heat—unholy and brutal.
When it was over, she collapsed, drenched in sweat and blood and trembling silence.
They stood above her, unrepentant.
"Now you know," Kael said, his voice a cold blade, "what it means to belong to us. Not as a woman. Not as a human. But as ours."
Mira couldn't respond.
She had nothing left.
And the cruelest part?
Somewhere deep inside her trembling soul…
…a part of her now ached for them.