Blood and sorcery

Chapter 3: Blood & Sorcery

The North Wing of Valcourt Keep was unlike the rest of the fortress.

Where the grand hall was cold and imposing, this part of the castle was strangely intimate—velvet drapes, flickering candelabras, and a massive four-poster bed draped in black silk.

Selene stood stiffly in the center of the room, ignoring the way the firelight cast golden hues against her skin. The silver shackles were gone, but the invisible chains remained.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she felt him before she saw him.

Damien Valcourt.

The air shifted, thickened, as the Vampire King moved closer. His presence was suffocating—heat and ice, danger and desire. She didn't turn, not yet, not until she felt the ghost of his breath at the nape of her neck.

"You didn't ask what I want from you," Damien murmured.

Selene's lips curled. "I didn't care."

A dark chuckle. "Liar."

His fingers brushed her hair aside, grazing against her bare shoulder. Not a touch of affection—a test. A warning.

Selene exhaled sharply, refusing to react. "Is this how you treat all your prisoners? Or am I just lucky?"

"You are not a prisoner, Selene."

She turned to face him, heart pounding despite herself. He was too close, his silver eyes unreadable, his tall frame looming over her. The firelight carved shadows along his sharp cheekbones, his lips curled in something between amusement and hunger.

"Then what am I?" she challenged.

Damien lifted a single hand, his fingers grazing her jaw. The touch sent heat racing down her spine.

"My witch," he murmured.

Selene's breath hitched. Not from fear—from something far more dangerous.

The bond between them had been simmering from the moment she arrived. A dangerous, unspoken tension. The kind that felt like a match waiting to be struck.

And Damien knew it.

She could see it in his smirk, in the way his thumb traced the corner of her lips as if testing how much she could take before she broke.

Selene refused to be the first to break.

"You want something from me," she whispered. "Why don't you tell me what it is? Or would you rather keep playing?"

Damien's smirk deepened. "Oh, I enjoy playing."

He leaned in, his lips hovering near hers—but just before they touched, he turned, his mouth brushing against the curve of her jaw instead. A deliberate tease.

Selene felt her magic flare—an instinctive response to his closeness. The air hummed, and for a split second, the candles flickered wildly.

Damien noticed.

His eyes darkened, the hunger in them shifting into something sharper.

"Powerful," he murmured, tracing a slow line down her arm. "And yet, you hide it."

Selene's breath was uneven. "Maybe I don't want you to see what I can do."

"Or maybe you're afraid of what will happen if I do."

Her pulse thundered.

Damien lifted her wrist, studying the faint scars left by the silver shackles. Then, without warning, he brought it to his lips.

His mouth was cool and yet searing as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against her burned skin.

Selene felt it everywhere.

Magic crackled between them, untamed and reckless. The air around them shifted—the firelight flared, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw shadows coiling around his fingertips, as if responding to her.

Damien exhaled, his grip tightening. His pupils were blown wide, and for the first time, he looked almost unsteady.

It hit Selene like a lightning strike.

He wasn't just testing her.

He was affected by her.

By her magic. By her blood. By something neither of them fully understood.

Selene swallowed hard, tilting her chin up. "Careful, Your Majesty," she murmured, her voice softer than she intended. "You might start to like me."

Damien's lips brushed against the inside of her wrist again, slower this time.

"Would that be such a terrible thing?"

Selene's heart skipped a beat.

And then, just as quickly as he had unraveled her, he was gone.

Damien stepped back, the mask of control sliding effortlessly back into place.

"Rest, little witch," he said smoothly. "Tomorrow, your lessons begin."

Selene forced herself to breathe, to stay composed. "Lessons?"

Damien smirked. "I'm going to teach you how to wield your power. And in return—"

He turned toward the door, his voice dropping into something dark, something almost possessive.

"—you'll teach me how to break this curse."

Then he was gone, leaving Selene standing in the firelit room, her pulse still racing, her skin still tingling where he had touched her.

And for the first time, she wondered—

Who was truly in control?

End of Chapter 3