A DANGEROUS GAME

Chapter 3

A Dangerous Game

The grand halls of the Château de Lune shimmered under the glow of a thousand golden chandeliers, their light casting eerie reflections upon the polished marble floors. The scent of aged wine, expensive cologne, and something richer—something darker—clung to the air. The elite of Paris's vampire society had gathered in full force, their laughter melodic, their conversations laced with hidden meanings.

Lucienne stepped into the ballroom, a shadow in a sea of elegance. Her gown was black as midnight, clinging to her form with a sinister grace, its fabric whispering with each step. The intricate lace neckline framed her porcelain throat—a deliberate invitation, a calculated risk. She moved as though she belonged, and in truth, she had once ruled this world.

At her side, Damien was an outlier, a storm among still waters. Clad in a dark suit that did little to tame the wildness in his eyes, he prowled rather than walked. His senses were on high alert, every fiber of his being screaming danger. He was a predator among predators, and the tension in his body betrayed his unease.

"Relax," Lucienne murmured, her voice low, smooth as silk.

Damien let out a breath, slow and controlled. "Easy for you to say. You were born for this." His golden eyes flicked toward the crowd, his instincts sharp. "I can feel them watching me. Like wolves sniffing out the odd one in the pack."

Lucienne's lips curved in a faint smirk. "Let them watch. Just don't give them reason to pounce."

Tonight wasn't just about blending in—it was about survival. Somewhere in this ballroom was the vampire responsible for the recent attacks. Someone who had upset the fragile balance between vampires and werewolves. Someone who wanted a war.

But Lucienne had another battle to fight. This wasn't just any gathering—it was a homecoming. These people had once been her family, her coven. Until she had betrayed them. Until she had walked away.

"Do they know you're here?" Damien asked under his breath.

Lucienne's gaze swept the room, her expression unreadable. "They will soon enough."

A ripple of awareness ran through the crowd as they moved deeper into the ballroom. Whispers followed them like ghosts, eyes gleaming with recognition, resentment, and curiosity. At the center of the opulent space, an ornate fountain stood, its waters flowing red as bloodwine.

A voice, rich with amusement and venom, slithered through the air.

"Lucienne."

She turned slowly.

Marcel.

He stepped forward, every movement deliberate, every inch of him exuding confidence. His emerald-green eyes gleamed with something dangerous. He had once been her closest ally. Now? A predator waiting for the right moment to sink his fangs in.

"What a rare sight," Marcel mused, his lips curving. "We thought you'd abandoned us for good."

Lucienne met his gaze without flinching. "So did I. But life has a way of pulling us back."

Marcel's smile didn't reach his eyes. They flicked toward Damien, his nose flaring slightly as he took in the scent of wolf.

"And who is this?" Marcel's voice was almost bored, but the weight behind it was clear. "Your… pet?"

Damien stiffened. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the wolf in him demanding a fight.

Lucienne laid a hand on his arm. A silent command. Not yet.

"He's with me," she said smoothly. "That's all you need to know."

Marcel chuckled, though there was no warmth in the sound. "You always did have an eye for the unconventional."

Lucienne ignored the jab. She had come for answers, not old wounds. "I need information, Marcel. Nothing more."

Marcel tilted his head, considering. "And why would we help you? You turned your back on us. On your family."

"This isn't about the past," Lucienne said, her voice firm. "There's a rogue vampire in the city. He's not just killing humans—he's targeting werewolves. If this continues, the wolves will retaliate. Paris will be a warzone. If you don't want your precious coven caught in the crossfire, you'll tell me what you know."

A flicker of something crossed Marcel's face—annoyance? Amusement?

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"I'll consider it," he said at last, stepping back into the crowd. "Enjoy the party, Lucienne. It might be your last."

The words lingered like a curse.

Lucienne exhaled, the tension in her shoulders barely easing.

Damien leaned in. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly.

But he saw through it.

"You didn't tell me you used to be part of this coven," he said, voice low.

Lucienne's jaw tightened. "It wasn't relevant."

Damien arched a brow. "Seems pretty relevant now."

Lucienne sighed, the weight of her past pressing against her ribs. "I left for a reason, Damien. They only care about power. Control. I couldn't be part of that anymore."

"And now?"

She didn't answer. Because she didn't know.

Before either of them could say more, glass shattered.

The ballroom fell silent for half a breath before the tension exploded.

A group of rival vampires had entered, their presence a declaration of war.

A blur of movement—then the first blow struck.

Chaos erupted.

Lucienne moved fast, grabbing Damien's wrist as the ballroom became a battlefield. The once-elegant space was now a blur of flashing fangs, ripped silks, and blood.

"We need to leave," Damien growled.

"Not yet," Lucienne said, her eyes locked on the rival leader.

Before she could act, a vampire lunged—straight at her.

"Lucienne!" Damien shoved her aside.

Claws raked across Damien's arm, deep and vicious. He hissed in pain but retaliated instantly, his body shifting, his fangs elongating. With a savage snarl, he tore through his attacker.

Lucienne was at his side in an instant.

"Damien!"

"I'm fine," he muttered, but his face was pale.

Ignoring his protests, she ripped a strip from her gown and pressed it to his wound. Her hands trembled. She never let them tremble.

"You're not fine," she whispered.

For a moment, their eyes met—wolf and vampire, predator and predator.

A heartbeat.

Then another.

And before either of them could think—she kissed him.

It was heat and danger, fire meeting ice.

Damien's hands found her waist, pulling her closer. The taste of him—wild, raw—sent a shiver down her spine.

Then, reality crashed back.

Lucienne pulled away, breathless. "We can't."

Damien swallowed hard. "I know."

The battle still raged behind them. But something had changed.

Neither of them spoke as they fled into the night, the taste of that forbidden kiss lingering like a promise.

A dangerous game had begun.

And neither of them was ready for the cost.