The Light He Called His

Seraphine sat beside Valen, her pulse thrumming in her ears. He was barely conscious, body trembling, breaths shallow, as though the weight of eternity had finally caught up to him. His veins darkened beneath his pale skin. He looked like a God unraveling.

And yet...

To her, he looked human.

"I can't, " he whispered, barely audible. "Serenyth, don't offer yourself. I'll lose control. "

"I'll wait outside, " Corven said quietly and left the chamber.

Seraphine turned to him slowly, her long hair slipping over her shoulder like a waterfall of midnight.

Her gaze softened.

Not with pity. But something quieter. Something that bloomed like a secret flower in her chest.

"I want to, " She said.

Valen's lips parted in disbelief, his fangs glinting faintly beneath the moonlight.

Seraphine reached up and swept her hair to one side, baring the curve of her neck. Her neck was pale, delicate, pulsing gently with life. She could feel the beat of her heart under her skin. It raced under his gaze.

"Drink my blood, "she said again, her voice a whisper.

Valen hesitated - his hunger crackling just beneath the surface. But his fear was stronger. Not for himself.

For her.

" I'll ruin you, "he whispered.

She smiled faintly, " You won't. "

And then she tilted her head, slowly, inviting him closer.

His hand reached out and cupped her cheek, fingers trembling. She leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed at the warmth of his skin against hers.

She felt his breath ghost along her collarbone. Hot. Ragged. Desperate.

When his lips finally brushed her neck, her body tensed, a shiver crawling down her spine.

Not from fear. But from want.

His kiss was soft at first, feather-light, slow. Like he was worshipping her instead of tasting her. He kissed the space just beneath her ear. Then lower. Then lower again. Each press of his lips against her skin left a trail of fire in their wake.

Seraphine's hands clenched the fabric of his shirt.Her lips parted, breath catching with every second that passed.

She didn't know it could feel like this.

So intimate. So bare.

When his fangs finally pierced her skin, the world tilted.

A gasp left her lips - small, sharp and uncontrollable. Her eyes flew open, filled with shock and something more primal. Her grip on him tightened as the pain bled into pleasure, and the pleasure melted into something much, much deeper.

She could feel him drawing from her slowly, as if savoring her.

Valen's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him until there was no space left between them. His other hand slid into her hair, fingers curling possessively. Every part of him was trembling - from hunger, from restraint, from the overwhelming need to protect the very woman he was drinking from.

Seraphine's breath trembled across his shoulder from the overwhelming pleasure. Her eyelids fluttered, lashes damp, from the weight of it all.

Her heart. Her pulse. Her surrender.

A moment suspended in time, where trust outweighed fear.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were red, eyes glowing - not from bloodlust, but something softer.

"You taste like light, "he breathed. " Like the last flame in a dying world. "

Seraphine looked at him - cheeks flushed, neck marked, heart undone, with a dazed look on her face.

And for a long moment, she said nothing.

Only pressed her forehead to his, panting softly.

Valen collapsed gently into her arms, breath warm against her shoulder. Seraphine guided him down carefully until his head rested in her lap.

She sat motionless for a moment, then slowly brought her hand up, brushing his long dark hair away from his face. Silken strands slipped between her fingers.

He was so still, so unlike the man who had crushed kingdoms, conquered empires, made the stars seem dim.

Here, he looked young.

Here, he looked real.

The bite on her neck still pulsed faintly, but it wasn't pain she felt.

It was a warmth that spread from that single point, spilling into her chest, her limbs, her breath.

She looked down at him, eyes closed now from exhaustion, and something stirred within her.

Not confusion. Not duty. Not the fury that had once fueled her sword.

But wonder.

Who was he really? Not the vampire king from the stories. Not her enemy she once thought he was. But a man who had kissed her skin like a prayer and held her like she was the only truth he had.

"Valen, " She whispered, more to herself than to him.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Her fingers moved again, brushing his hair back gently, again and again, as if the motion would help her piece together the answer her heart had already begun to write.

She looked at the man who would burn down the world for her and wondered, in a quiet, aching kind of way,

What do you mean to me, Valen?

And for the first time in her life, there was no answer from the warrior, no voice from the princess.

Only Seraphine, the girl behind the crown, brushing back a monster's hair and feeling something terrifyingly close to home in his presence.

Just as she let her fingers linger in his hair, lost in the chaos of her own heartbeat, Valen shifted slightly - barely conscious.

His lips brushed against her skin, placing a soft kiss on her waist.

"Mine, " he whispered against her skin, voice hoarse. "You're my only light in this damned eternity, Serenyth. "

And then, like the wind surrendering to dusk, he slipped into his sleep - arms unconsciously curling around her.

Seraphine sat there, unmoving, heart pounding with million butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

And she did not pull away.