Chapter Eleven: A Blushing Rose

One Hour Ago…

King grinned to himself, the taste of her still lingering on his lips.

The look on her face when he kissed her—

Priceless.

She had been utterly stunned, her brown eyes wide with shock, her breath hitching as though he'd stolen the air from her lungs. A rare sight. And one he wanted to see again.

That's why he was looking for her now.

He had seen her leave with Mr. and Mrs. Aphelion, her figure disappearing into the grand halls of the estate. But strangely, they were nowhere to be found.

King was about to give up when he caught the low murmur of voices drifting down the corridor.

Mrs. Aphelion.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.

King froze, the words slicing through his amusement like a blade. A cold weight settled in his stomach as instinct took over, his feet moving silently toward the sound.

He found them standing in front of a large wooden door, their postures stiff with tension.

But—

Where was Myra?

His pulse quickened. She had walked with them earlier, hadn't she?

A creeping unease slithered up his spine.

He should leave—he was obviously eavesdropping on something personal—

But then—

The heavy door groaned open, its hinges protesting.

And a man stepped out, his polished boots clicking against the marble floor, a figure cradled in his arms.

King's blood ran cold.

The torn fabric of her dress. The bruises blooming like ink stains on her pale skin. The limp, fragile form nestled against the man's chest.

Myra.

His Myra.

A storm brewed inside him, dark and violent, his hands curling into tight fists. He felt the sharp bite of his nails against his palm, but the pain was nothing compared to the sight before him.

What the hell was she doing in another man's arms?

And why was she unconscious?

Mrs. Aphelion's voice trembled with fury. "How could you do this? Give her to me."

Dracula, his expression unreadable, simply tilted his head as though mildly amused.

"Why should I give her back?" His voice was shard, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "She's was left in my care. To be with me"

King's vision turned red.

With him?

Not after this.

Mrs. Aphelion stepped forward, her jaw tight. "Not after this," she growled. "I am not giving her to you."

Dracula chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a predator indulging in a game.

"You say it as though you have a choice, Madeline."

His gaze flicked lazily to Mr. Aphelion.

"If I wanted to take her, do you think I would ask?"

Then, to King's shock, he handed Myra over.

"She's not safe with me," Dracula murmured. "So I'm leaving her in your care, Seb."

King stood there, his pulse a hammer against his ribs.

He had come here for fun. To flirt, to tease.

Instead, he had walked into something much bigger.

Something dangerous.

Dracula turned on his heel, striding away.

King did the same.

He didn't want to be caught eavesdropping.

---

King reached the ballroom just as Dracula did, the chandeliers casting golden light over the sea of guests.

He wanted to run.

But he couldn't.

Their eyes met.

A cold shiver traced King's spine.

Dracula smirked, his lips barely parting as he murmured, "Master Lust."

King forced a smile, though his jaw ached from the effort.

"It would be a shame to miss such an event," he replied evenly, lifting a glass of champagne to his lips, though he barely tasted it.

Dracula took a slow sip of his own wine before leaning in.

"If you're worried that I slept with her—I didn't."

King's grip tightened around the stem of his glass, the crystal threatening to shatter beneath his fingers.

The bastard was toying with him.

"I am not the one meant to deflower her."

King's breath hitched, a quiet fury clawing at his insides.

But before he could react—

Dracula was gone, vanishing into the crowd like a phantom.

King stood there, heart pounding, body taut with tension.

He didn't trust him.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed Alvin.

"Find out everything about Vladimir Draco, the Aphelions, and the Thorns," he ordered, his voice low and sharp.

Then he hung up.

Something wasn't right.

And he was going to find out what.

___

King leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against his chest. The dim glow of his office lamp cast elongated shadows, flickering as Alvin shuffled through his notes.

"Vladimir Ghica, he owns a chain of hotels all over Europe, no children, no wife. He usually spends his time at the country club or doing good deeds to the poor and needy"

So there was nothing bad about him on paper.

"He is business partners with the Aphelions, and before their deaths the Thorns. In fact he had a good relationship with Winter Thorn, but according to some sources he wasn't in good terms with Thomas Thorn"

King's brow furrowed. Strange.

Alvin cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "There's more," he said, voice steady but cautious.

King narrowed his eyes, the cold prickle of anticipation running down his spine. "Go on."

"The Thorn estate… was abandoned for years after the car accident. No one dared approach it, but there were reports—whispers, really—of strange occurrences. Lights flickering at odd hours, shadows moving behind the curtains." Alvin hesitated before adding, "People say the house was never truly empty."

A muscle in King's jaw twitched. "Ghost stories? Is that all?"

Alvin shook his head. "Not just stories. Four years ago, there were rumors of a child showing up there—a girl, sharing a resemblance with Winter Thorn"

King stilled. The room felt colder, the air thick with something unspoken.

"No records, no name. Just a shadow, slipping through the cracks of history. And then, suddenly—Myra appears."

King exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist. "And you think she's that child?"

"All signs point to it. Her age matches. The Aphelions have no biological daughter, yet she calls them family." Alvin closed the folder, looking up at King.

"The only thing that doesn't match up us the timeline, the Thorns died twenty years ago"

King tapped his fingers against the desk, his mind racing. Myra. A mystery wrapped in sarcasm and flames.

A smirk curled on his lips. "I guess we should keep looking for more information."

---

The scent of roasted coffee and fresh bread filled the air as King pushed open the café door, the soft chime of the bell announcing his arrival. The place was small, cozy, the kind of spot that made you forget the world outside even existed. The low hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of spoons against ceramic cups.

And then—

Silence.

Myra's head snapped up, her brown eyes narrowing the moment she spotted him. Across from her, Arielle's lips twitched, barely suppressing a grin. Nathan sighed as if he already regretted being here.

King grinned. "Hey, guys."

Myra groaned, rubbing her temple. "Of all the places… why are you here?"

"I own the place, darling," he said smoothly, sliding into the empty chair beside her.

Myra choked on her drink. "What?!"

Arielle snickered. "I like this guy."

Nathan shook his head. "You own everything, don't you?"

"Not yet," King admitted, propping his chin on his hand. "But I'm working on it."

Myra exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around her cup. "You are the most annoying human being I've ever met."

King's smirk widened. "Flattered."

She shot him a glare that could have burned down the entire café. He only chuckled, reaching for her cup. She slapped his hand away.

"Why are you even talking to me today?"

Then, as if casually dropping a bomb, King leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I want to kiss you."

Dead silence.

Myra's eyes widened, her cheeks darkening. Arielle gasped. Nathan choked on his drink.

"You—what?!" Myra sputtered, nearly knocking over her cup.

King leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "You heard me."

Arielle covered her mouth, stifling laughter. Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose.

Myra's entire body tensed. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white. She inhaled slowly, then turned away, muttering something under her breath.

King tilted his head, amusement dancing in his golden eyes. "Are you blushing, darling?"

"Of course not!" Myra snapped, voice an octave higher than usual.

Arielle giggled. Nathan shook his head, already seeing the storm brewing. King was playing with fire, and from the way Myra's crimson eyes gleamed—she was ready to burn him alive.

Then—

King smirked. "That reminds me. Our race."

Myra's expression shifted instantly, intrigue flickering across her face. "What about it?"

"I'm changing the destination." He folded his arms. "We're racing to Cheesy Life and back."

Myra nodded, calculating. That was closer. The previous destination, Bram Castle, had been too far.

King leaned in, voice dropping into something almost sultry. "Midnight. Try not to be late."

Myra smirked, all hints of embarrassment wiped clean. "You're going to lose."

King grinned. "We'll see about that, darling."

Nathan sighed. "Won't your parents notice?" he asked, giving Myra a pointed look.

She waved him off. "They're on a business trip. They won't be back till Monday."

Arielle hummed, taking a sip of her drink. "So it's settled. Midnight race."

Myra barely heard her. Her heart was already pounding with anticipation. She was finally going to win back her dagger.

And this time—

She wouldn't lose.