Marigold_Virelle

Ariadne has always been haunted by dreams of a man she’s never met—his face etched into her mind, his presence lingering like a forgotten promise. When she finally crosses paths with him in the real world, everything changes.

The man is Caelen—cold, distant, and far from ordinary. He is an ancient vampire, cursed with uncontrollable magic and burdened by a past that refuses to stay buried.

Despite his resistance, Ariadne is drawn to him with an intensity she can’t explain. She believes their connection is fate. He believes it’s a threat.

Caelen’s curse isolates him in a cycle of destruction: every time he uses his power, something vital is stripped from him. He fears that letting Ariadne in will only lead to losing her, too.

But as their lives intertwine, the truth becomes clear—Ariadne may be the key to breaking his curse. To free him, she must risk her heart, her sanity, and perhaps even her life.

In a world of dark magic and forbidden longing, The Bound Heart is a tale of fate, sacrifice, and the devastating price of loving a man born of darkness.

The Bound Heart

The gate creaked shut behind her with a final thud that echoed through the stillness.

Ariadne stood just outside it, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Now that the rush of adrenaline had passed, the cold was seeping in, sharp and real. Her sleeves weren't thick enough. Her dress felt too thin. She hadn't dressed for this—not for standing alone in front of a place that wasn't meant for her.

Out of everyone she'd seen, he was the only one who looked at her like she was a person—not a mistake, not a threat. He hadn't treated her like she didn't belong.

"You weren't supposed to find him."

Then, softer, like he felt bad about it:

She should've left. She knew that. She should've walked away, taken the hint, gone back to the streets she recognized and forgotten all of this.

Now she stood outside the mansion, outside whatever strange world she'd stumbled into—stuck.

The street was completely still. No cars. No footsteps. No people walking by. It was too quiet, like the city had shut itself off the moment the gate closed behind her.

She reached out and touched the bars. They were cold. Solid. She leaned forward until her forehead rested against the metal.

Her eyes closed. She just stood there, breathing slow, like that could make sense of what she was feeling.

He had looked at her like he recognized her.

And then he walked away like he wanted none of it.

"I'm not leaving," she said under her breath.

Her voice was rough, but steady. "I know you're in there. And I know you felt it too."

She didn't expect a response. She didn't even know if he could hear her. Maybe she sounded ridiculous. Maybe she was ridiculous.

But none of that changed how sure she felt.

Something in her was certain that he mattered. This place mattered. And walking away now would be like tearing off a piece of herself.

The wind blew through the street, brushing her hair into her face. She pushed it back and stayed where she was.

And still, she stood there, refusing to move.

Not because she was waiting for some magical answer, or some dramatic sign.

But because something in her gut told her this was the place to be.

And she wasn't ready to let it go.

The Gate And The Girl