Chapter 28

The staircase winds upward, steep and endless, each step echoing softly beneath my boots.

Shadows curl around me, thick and unmoving, swallowing the faint light seeping from the sconces along the stone walls.

The air shifts the higher I climb—colder, heavier. As if the very walls of this place are alive, breathing, watching.

At the top, his doors loom ahead—tall, carved from ancient blackwood, etched with intricate symbols that seem to shift when I look too long.

The sheer size of them makes me feel small, insignificant, like standing before the gates of something forbidden.

I hesitate.

The last time I walked through these doors, I left with the scent of him burned into my skin and the ghost of his eyes lingering behind my mind.

And now… I’m about to do it again.

I knock, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the thick wood.

No response.

Instead, a soft sound hums from beyond the doors—a violin.

The melody is haunting, delicate yet deliberate, each note pulling at something deep in my chest.

It’s beautiful. But there’s something else woven into the sound. Something lonely, much like the tune he played in the graveyard all those nights ago.

Feels like a lifetime ago.

I press my fingers to the door, hesitating for only a moment before pushing it open.

It’s unlocked. Again.

The room is vast, dimly lit, brighter than the , the fire in the hearth throwing long, flickering shadows against the dark walls.

And there he is, the dark prince.

My dark Prince...or my Lestat, as Finn teases.

His back is to me, his form poised and still as he plays. The violin rests beneath his chin, the bow gliding across the strings with practiced ease.

But the moment I step inside, the song cuts off abruptly, the last note breaking on an off-key screech.

He turns sharply, his eyes locking onto mine in an instant.

For a moment, he just looks at me.

And I look back.

The firelight casts his sharp features in gold and shadow, his expression unreadable, though his fingers still clutch the violin as if he’s reluctant to let go.

I break the silence first. “You stopped playing.”

“You walked in,” he says smoothly.

His voice is quiet, but there’s something unreadable beneath it.

I close the door behind me. “Why did you request for me to go back?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he carefully sets the violin down on its stand, his movements slow, deliberate.

When he finally speaks, his tone is casual, almost indifferent. “We have eternity. You might as well gain some experience while you still can. It would be a shame if you grew bored too soon.”

My stomach twists. Eternity.

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged it so plainly.

I swallow, forcing a wry smile. “And what about you? Do you use your eternity to learn how to play the violin?”

A hint of amusement flickers across his face. “Among other things.”

I tilt my head. “Like?”

He steps forward, stopping just short of where I stand. “I can fly a plane. I’ve mastered every instrument worth playing. I have experience in medicine, politics, business.” A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Where do you think my money comes from? It’s not just because of my title. I’ve had four hundred years—and counting—to make something out of my life.”

His eyes darken, voice dipping lower. “And so will you.”

The weight of his words settles heavily between us.

I sit on the edge of his bed, staring up at him. I sink into the softness of the mattress. “So, you think I should go out and… do something with my life?”

His gaze flickers, something sharp glinting behind it. “Would you rather waste it?”

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. It just—it feels strange, going back. Like pretending nothing happened.”

He studies me for a long moment before speaking. “You also mentioned wanting to see your friend.”

I blink. “Ellie?”

He nods.

A thrill shoots through me at the thought of seeing her again. It’s been too long. I miss her. God, I miss her.

But then reality slams into me.

I frown. “Wouldn’t that put a target on her? I mean—supernaturals, vampires, whatever. If I’m around her—”

His expression doesn’t change. “No. Supernaturals have no reason to concern themselves with humans.”

I narrow my eyes. “You sure?”

A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “They're not that important.”

I scowl. “Gee, thanks.”

"You're welcome."

I cross my arms, watching him carefully. “So..." I drawl out, "You’re telling me that in four hundred years, you’ve managed to become an expert in… everything?”

He smirks, his gaze flickering with amusement. “More or less.”

I scoff. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. “I could show you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Show me what?”

His smirk deepens. “Anything you want.”

My stomach does a stupid little flip, and I quickly force my face into something unimpressed. “Okay, fine. Prove it.”

One dark brow lifts. “You’re challenging me?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I just think you’re full of it. I mean, really, how many instruments do you actually know how to play?”

He exhales, a long-suffering sigh. “All of them.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure.”

“I do,” he insists, stepping even closer.

The space between us shrinks.

The air shifts.

And suddenly, the game doesn’t feel like a game anymore.

I feel him before I realize just how close he is—the coolness of his presence, the barely-there brush of his fingers against my wrist, featherlight and teasing.

My breath catches, my heart hammering as his gaze drops to my lips for the briefest second before flicking back up.

He’s testing me.

I can feel it.

His voice drops, smooth as silk. “Would you like a demonstration?”

I swallow hard, my pulse skittering wildly. “O-of what?”

His lips twitch. “Your choice.”

I hate how effortlessly he does this—how easily he can tilt the entire atmosphere with nothing more than a look, a touch, a single well-placed word.

It should be illegal, really.

I lift my chin, feigning confidence. “Alright, then. Play something.”

He tilts his head. “What?”

“Something… spontaneous,” I say, crossing my arms. “You say you can play anything. So prove it.”

He considers this for a moment, then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the violin resting nearby.

The moment he lifts it to his shoulder, something shifts in the air.

And then—

He plays.

The first note is rich, velvety, smooth as liquid silver. His bow moves effortlessly across the strings, filling the space between us with a slow, sensual melody.

It’s hypnotic, and my heartbeat stumbles, betraying me completely.

His eyes stay on mine as he plays.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I shift on the bed, suddenly warm. “That’s—”

“Beautiful?” he supplies.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t argue. It is.

After a few more strokes of the bow, he stops abruptly, lowering the violin. The silence is deafening.

“Convinced?” he murmurs.

I lick my lips. “Maybe.”

His eyes darken just slightly. “What else do you need?”

My breath catches. “I—”

The words die in my throat when he leans in, his fingers lifting just enough to brush the stray strands of hair from my face.

His touch is barely there, but it sets every nerve in my body ablaze.

“I could teach you,” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing. “If you want.”

I blink. “Teach me… what?”

“Anything.” His fingertips trail lightly down my jawline, tracing the delicate line of my neck before stopping at my pulse. “Everything.”

I should pull away.

I should say something smart.

But I don’t.

Instead, I tilt my head slightly, a silent dare. “That’s a bold promise.”

His lips twitch, but his eyes burn with something unreadable. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

The tension between us is palpable now, crackling like a live wire. My breath is shallow, my pulse hammering beneath his touch.

I should leave.

I should—

He shifts closer, his lips just a breath away from mine.

And then—

He stops.

Waiting.

Testing.

Daring me to close the distance.

I hold my breath, my entire body frozen between fight and surrender.

And, God help me, I surrender.

I lean in, just enough—just barely—until our lips brush.

The second we touch, it’s like something clicks into place, the tension between us snapping into something molten, something dangerous.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss—slow, controlled, devastatingly slow.

He doesn't taste the way I thought he would.

Like cinnamon.

He tastes like winter, like something dark and intoxicating, and I melt before I can stop myself.

His free hand grips my waist, pulling me closer, pressing me against him until there’s no space left between us.

And for a moment, I let myself fall.

Into him.

Into this.

But then—

I stop.

I pull away, breathless, pulse hammering in my ears.

His eyes flicker open, dark and unreadable.

I force a weak chuckle, trying to steady my voice. “I should—I should go.”

He doesn’t stop me.

Doesn’t say a word as I push off the bed and move toward the door, my legs shaky beneath me.

I know I'm walking on cold thin ice with him. But even if it breaks, the water beneath me is shallow. He won't drown me. I won't let him.

"Water isn't the only thing that drowns, love." His voice seeps into my mind, halting me in my tracks. I turn back to him, but he's by the fire place staring into the flames.

I see just the hint of a smile on his lips before he bites them seductively. Warmth pools between my legs and I turn around again, heading out of his chambers.