The black carriage rode across the veil between realms—its wheels untouched by earth, its path carved by old magic. Mira sat between the four Lords, her wrists bound with enchanted silk threaded by vampire blood. Her breaths were shallow, her gaze fixed ahead, not daring to look at any of them. Not after what Lucien did. Not after what all four had done.
They said nothing to her during the journey.
But their silence screamed.
The gates of the Vampire Palace loomed ahead, carved from onyx and bone, guarded by statues that pulsed with life. The moment the carriage stopped, the doors opened to a world Mira wasn't ready for.
A hundred eyes stared.
Vampires lined the black-marble steps like an army awaiting command. They bowed low—not to Mira—but to the four Lords of the Night.
Kael stepped out first, followed by the others. They didn't offer her a hand.
She stumbled after them.
Inside, the palace was vast, ancient, soaked in silence and red candlelight. The very air tasted metallic.
Then came a voice—powerful, echoing through the palace like thunder laced with velvet.
"My sons return…"
A throne rose at the far end of the hall. Upon it sat the Vampire King—Alaric. Broad-shouldered, with long silver hair and crimson eyes that held centuries of death and cunning. Beside him sat the Queen—Velena. Her beauty was terrifying, a creature carved from ice and crowned in shadows.
Their eyes locked on Mira.
"She reeks of golden blood," the Queen murmured, her voice calm, cruel. "I see the girl's been claimed."
"Only marked," Cadeon said coldly.
"She looks fragile," Alaric added. "You expect her to survive here?"
"She doesn't need to survive," Darius replied with a shrug. "She just needs to obey."
Mira flinched, but held her chin high.
The Queen's lips twitched. "Interesting…"
A bell rang.
The dinner was called.
Mira was dragged—not invited—to the dining table. It was long, carved from blackwood, lit by crimson crystals hanging like bleeding stars. At the head sat Alaric and Velena. The four Lords took their seats near them. Mira was placed at the center—like prey surrounded by predators.
Servants arrived carrying chalices.
But it wasn't wine.
It was blood.
Each goblet shimmered with different hues—vampire blood, human blood, ancient blood.
Mira stared in horror.
"Drink," Kael commanded.
"I'm not one of you," she whispered.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "You bear our marks. Our tie. You already crossed the threshold, Mira. Denying it won't change your fate."
Velena leaned forward. "Let her starve, then. A weak mate is no use to us."
Alaric swirled his goblet, eyes sharp. "Unless she earns her place... perhaps in blood, or pleasure. Or both."
Mira stood abruptly, her voice shaking. "I never chose this!"
Cadeon growled, fangs peeking. "And we never chose you."
Silence fell.
Then, slowly… Alaric laughed.
"Good," he said. "Let this fire burn longer. If she survives the next red moon, she'll be worth more than the kingdom her parents tried to destroy."
Mira froze. "You… you knew my parents?"
The Queen's eyes turned cold. "We executed them."
Mira's breath caught in her throat.
"They tried to poison the bloodlines," Alaric said flatly. "They would've burned our world to the ground. But you… their daughter... you're cursed to fix what they failed to finish."
The blood in her veins pulsed like thunder.
She had no place here.
And yet, she was the key to it all.
The Lords didn't look at her with pity.
Only hunger.
Only hatred.
Only fate.
As the dinner ended, Mira was pulled to her feet again, her legs barely able to walk. Kael's hand wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling, but there was no warmth—only possession.
"You will stay in the eastern wing," Lucien said. "Guarded. Watched. Obey."
"And what if I try to escape?" she whispered.
Lucien bent closer, his voice like a blade. "Then we let every creature in this world taste you before dragging your broken body back to us."
Mira's heart clenched.
There was no escape now.
The Palace wasn't a home.
It was a kingdom built on blood.
And tonight, its dinner had already chosen her.