The Emperor’s Possession

Serenya remained cooped up in her chambers, pacing back and forth like a caged bird, her bare feet making soft thuds against the cold marble floor. The velvet drapes had been drawn shut, suffocating the sunlight, leaving the room steeped in twilight gloom. The air was thick with her frustration, her lips trembling with unspoken words. Her stomach ached from hunger, but pride wouldn't let her give in—not after what she had witnessed.

He severed someone's hand like it meant nothing. As if it was just a strand of hair.

The memory played over and over in her mind like a gruesome loop. Blood had spurted across the polished stone floor of the courtroom, and for a moment, Serenya had felt like she couldn't breathe. Her delicate fingers curled into fists as she tried to banish the image.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.

"Your Highness," came the tentative voice of a servant. "His Imperial Majesty requests your presence for lunch."

She didn't move. Didn't respond.

The footsteps faded, and only then did she exhale sharply, shoulders slumping with the weight of defiance. Yes, she was hungry—her stomach gnawed at itself from skipping breakfast—but that didn't mean she'd willingly sit across the table from that... twisted man.

She moved toward the balcony, pushing open the tall glass doors to let the wind brush against her face. The scent of pine and distant rain hung in the air. Her eyes dropped to the courtyard below, where two guards stood as stiff as statues. They didn't glance up, but their presence made her spine straighten in resistance.

They don't guard the palace. They guard me. Like a prisoner.

Her fingers gripped the stone railing. She needed to return to Vayrana. This palace wasn't her home—it was a gilded cage. No matter how luxurious the silks or how fragrant the rose-scented baths, she still felt trapped.

Then came a sound. A click.

Her blood froze.

Her head whipped around.

The door she had locked swung open smoothly—and standing there like a shadow born from flame, was Emperor Zareth.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted in disbelief.

"How—how did you get in?" she stammered, eyes wide, heart hammering against her ribs like a prisoner begging for escape. She had locked the door!.

Zareth's lips curled into a crooked, maddening smile. He sauntered into the room like it belonged to him—because in his mind, everything did.

"What's this little stunt about you wanting to see me?" he drawled, voice smooth as dark velvet, yet coiled with danger.

Serenya took a step back, then another, until her spine hit the cold balcony railing. "What?"

"I sent a servant to bring you, not to replace you."

He was before her in an instant, crossing the room with fluid, predatory grace. His crimson eyes locked onto hers with feral amusement, and she felt the air thicken with tension.

"That's because I don't want to be here. I want to return to Vayrana," she shot back, pressing herself against the railing, her fingers trembling.

Zareth cocked his head, stepping in closer, eliminating all space between them. His scent—cedarwood and something darker, almost primal—swirled around her, intoxicating and suffocating. She leaned further away.

"Lean any further, little dove," he murmured, "and you'll fall. Might even break a limb or two. Not that I wouldn't catch you... but maybe I'd let you fall, just to teach you obedience."

He's insufferable. Absolutely unbearable. Arrogant. Dangerous.

Her eyes flickered to the sky as if begging the moon for strength, but Zareth wasn't done.

He placed one palm flat on the railing beside her, then the other, caging her in. She felt his body heat radiate through the air between them, her breath quickening.

"Can you step away?" she muttered, cheeks flushed. "You're making it hard to breathe."

Zareth leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice low and possessive. "That's the point. I want you to suffocate so much on me, Serenya... that the only air you crave is mine."

Her heart skipped. A treacherous flutter betrayed her chest.

Why does he say things like this? Why does my body react like this? Why do I feel—

Zareth chuckled, the sound vibrating through her bones, then whispered, "Let's go get your stomach filled, shall we?"

"I'm not hungry, Your Imperial Majesty," she said quickly, trying to compose herself. "And I'd like to be alone."

But Zareth, never one to be denied, swept her off the floor before she could finish, tossing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

"Zareth!" she yelped, pounding her fists against his back. "Put me down, this instant!"

He smirked. "Oh, you don't want to eat? Then let's channel that energy elsewhere, little dove."

He strode to her bed and flung her onto it, the mattress bouncing beneath her as she scurried backward in shock. But he was already above her, caging her once more, pinning her wrists to the silk sheets.

Her breath hitched. Her wide eyes stared up into his glowing crimson ones.

Zareth's gaze dropped to her lips, then to the bodice of her dress, where his fingers moved to unfasten the delicate buttons.

Her eyes widened. " Your imperial majesty! I—I'm hungry."

He paused, a devilish smirk playing on his mouth. "What happened to you calling me Zareth ?"

Her voice came out as a squeak. "Zareth. I'm hungry. Very hungry!"

And just then, her stomach growled—loudly.

He laughed, the sound low and rich, then leaned down, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Her entire face turned crimson.

Zareth stood, stretching his hand toward her. "Come on, before I decide dessert can wait."

Still blushing furiously, Serenya hesitated, then placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, possessive. He led her out of the room like a man parading his most precious treasure.

She glared at his back.

This man has no shame. No boundaries. And I... I hate him.

As they walked through the grand palace halls, she tried to steady her breathing, ignoring how every servant they passed bowed deeply and looked away quickly.

Zareth smirked over his shoulder. "You keep staring like that, little dove, and I'll think you want to go back to the bedroom."

She nearly tripped and jerked her eyes to the floor.

The dining hall loomed ahead, tall golden doors opening to reveal a table fit for royalty. As expected, Zareth pulled out her chair—right beside his—and gestured for her to sit first.

She did so, reluctantly.

Instead of summoning a servant, Zareth picked up the silver ladle himself and filled her plate.

She blinked surprised.

"I don't like anyone touching what's mine," he replied simply, placing the cutlery before her with sharp precision.

Her heart pounded.

"You should look on the bright side," he mused, fangs peeking from beneath his lips as he bit into a thick, bloody steak. "All you have to do is be my Empress."

"There's no bright side to being forced to stay in a palace and stripped of everything familiar," she said, voice firm with quiet strength.

Zareth licked his lips slowly, eyes glinting with mischief. "Everything familiar is what I plan to replace. Your world, your name, your past... will be mine."

Her cheeks burned again, and she looked away, trying to focus on her food.

He tilted his head, speaking in a low voice only she could hear. "My family will be here by evening. If they disturb you, let me know, and I'll happily chop off a few hands."

She gawked at him.

"I'm not joking," he said casually. "I'm quite fond of you, Serenya. Maybe even... in love."

She swallowed hard, unsure what to say.

The Emperor was twisted.But more terrifyingly—

—he might just be dragging her heart down into that twisted darkness with him.