Private Tales The Price of Defiance

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s smirk deepened to dimples as he watched her struggle against herself, torn between fear and something sharper, something fighting to surface. Good, he mused, his violet gaze flickering with satisfaction. She wasn’t breaking just yet. But still, she expected answers.

How sweet.. She really had no idea who she was dealing with.

Her grip on the vase wavered, exhaustion visible in the tension of her shoulders and the faint tremor in her fingers. He could end this now, crush whatever resistance remained—but there would be little fun in that for either of them.

'You didn’t answer my question'

Nikolai let the silence stretch just long enough to make her uneasy before responding, his voice slow, almost languid. “No. I didn’t.” He leaned forward slightly, the movement casual, as though the entire situation bored him. His gaze flicked to the vase still clutched in her hands, and a quiet, smoky chuckle left him.

“Put that down,” he said, tilting his head, voice rich with amusement. “If you want to hurt me, you'll have to use something sharper.”

As if answering his words, the shadows coiled over the wooden stand where the vase had been, dark mist solidifying into a dagger. The blade shimmered faintly, pulsing with an unnatural gleam as though it breathed with the night itself. It was elegant, sleek, and jagged at the edges—cruel in its design.

“Careful,” he murmured, lips curling slightly. “It’s sharp.”

He left the journal and his drink on the table and approached, slow and deliberate, closing much of the space between them with quiet ease. His fingers moved deftly to the buttons of his shirt, slipping them free one by one, revealing pale skin carved with something far older than ink.

Dark runes twisted over his collarbone and traced the center of his chest, spiraling in elegant yet chaotic designs, their meaning unknown but felt. Symbols of something vast and ancient curled over his skin, some of them faintly glowing under the silver light. They were neither symmetrical nor orderly, more like something seared into him by forces beyond mortal understanding.

He stopped just close enough for her to see the rise and fall of his breath, the way the runes dipped below his ribs like shifting scripture. He let her look. He wanted her to look.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, voice low, dark, almost gentle. “I won’t stop you.” His violet eyes burned into hers, something unreadable flickering behind them. “You have one shot to kill me.” A pause, deliberate, savouring the weight of the moment. “And if you fail…”

The smirk returned, slow and sharp, something almost fond beneath the cruelty. “Well. Then you have to behave. Or you’re going to really piss me off.”

 

[Sadie]

He was toying with her, like a cat playing with a mouse before it grew bored and chose to end its life. Every word was deliberate, pushing her to be afraid of him and pushing her to grow more angry. He was pushing her until she snapped or lashed out. He was waiting for her to give him a reason to end it all like he wanted to.

Fear and anger were a dangerous combination.

But Sadie refused to give in to either yet. Even as he suggested he put the vase down, dangling a shiny, new, and sharp dagger before her, and encouraging her to use it. She would not comply with his demands, even as exhaustion burrowed deep into her like chains weighing her down. How long had she been out? It had only been minutes, right? An hour tops.

Her knuckles turned white when he stepped closer. He was in no rush. He did not think she was a threat. He moved in a serpentine way as though he'd already won whatever fucked up game with was playing. Sadie had no interest in playing, and yet...

She couldn't look away the moment his fingers began to unbutton his shirt, revealing pale skin and hard planes of muscle that Sadie would have perhaps enjoyed the sight of if they had been on anyone else. But it wasn't the chest that looked carved in marble that had captured Sadie's attention so deeply. It was them.

The runes. Dark and twisting. Some were part of a cohesive work and some appeared to have been added on at a later time. An afterthought that didn't quite match. They coiled over his chest and traveled down his body, some pulsing faintly under the moonlight and called to her with a power she had seen only in ancient texts. Symbols and words she had pored over under the candlelight for months.

She gasped quietly.

She knew these markings.

Not all of them, certainly not enough to understand what most of the text meant. Perhaps with a month to transcribe it, she could understand the full weight of it all. She had minutes at most, so she took in the two words that she recognized most.

Ith'ryneth. Nosveth.

The blood oath and the eternal thirst of the Ail'thain.

Etched into his skin like scripture in that ancient tongue that she had been studying. Her stomach twisted and she moved before she had time to think.

Sadie swung the vase up and hit him in the head with a loud crack before the ceramic shattered and sent pieces scattering all over the ground. She dipped beside him and grabbed the dagger, not to kill him with, but rather to defend herself as she ran for the door and launched herself into the hallway. Her body ached, but her adrenaline forced her to push through it until she had made several turns in the hallways. It was dimly lit and painfully unfamiliar, but her light feet barely made a sound, even as her breath grew more ragged the further she pushed on.

She ducked into a small alcove to catch her breath and noticed the strange absence of his footsteps. There was no immediate pursuit. It was almost worse than if he had been chasing her. Was he letting me run? Why is he letting me run?

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai watched her with quiet, dark amusement as the realisation passed over her face. He could see it—her pulse quickening, the sharp breath she drew, the way her gaze locked onto the runes that marked his skin. There it was, that moment, when the ancient words she’d been translating clicked into place.

He felt it then—the shift in the air. The scent of her fear thickened, mingling with the adrenaline racing through her veins. He could hear it in the rapid thrum of her heartbeat, taste the change in her scent as she processed what she’d just uncovered. Gods, that scent, he thought, his throat tightening, a long-buried hunger stirring deep within him. She didn’t know it yet, but she was already becoming the prey to something far darker than she could comprehend.

His jaw clenched as the urge to act—to taste, to claim—pressed against his restraint. It had been so long. Too long.

But he had promised her a shot, hadn’t he? And so, when the vase came flying at him, he didn’t flinch. He could have dodged, could have stopped it with a flick of his wrist, but he let it hit. Let the sharp crack of ceramic fill the space between them. A low growl rumbled in his chest as the shards scattered across the floor, and a trickle of cold blood ran down his temple.

He touched his fingers to the wound, feeling the blood as it trickled down, his lips curling into something between a grimace and a smile.

“You really thought that was going to work?” he drawled, his voice dark and amused as she darted past him, faster than he expected, and grabbed the dagger. He let her go, for now. Let her scramble through the shadows of the unfamiliar halls, thinking she was escaping. Let her run, he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly as her footsteps grew more distant.

No pursuit. No chase. She was already trapped.

There was no sound of his footsteps because he didn't run after her. He didn't walk, either. Nikolai had become shadow, a slithering darkness that followed no rules, that moved between spaces unseen.

He could feel her—her scent, the quickened rhythm of her breath, her heartbeat pounding in the silent hall. She thought she had lost him. She thought she was hidden. But she wasn’t hidden from him. Not anymore.

In the little alcove she ducked into, Nikolai’s shadows reached out like tendrils, curling around her like a vice. The air grew colder, the walls of darkness closing in. His fingers, like ice, gripped her elbows, pulling her backward into the void where only darkness reigned.

“Did you really think you could outrun me, Ilith?” His voice was low, a dark hum of amusement, and it filled the alcove as the shadows swallowed them whole.

Her body was pressed against his then, the scent of her panic mingling with his own predatory hunger. He leaned closer, just enough for his breath to stir her hair, and he whispered with that same cruel, playful edge, “That was a silly thing to do. But it was cute, I’ll give you that.”

 

[Sadie]

Sadie was preparing to run again, heading towards a corridor she could make out at the end of this one. Doors lined it and she figured one of them must lead somewhere. Whether it was outside, upwards, downwards, or to the miracle she desperately wished for, she did not care.

Something slithered up her legs, around her waist and wrists, pinning her in place. She struggled, but it was useless. The shadows curled around her ribs like vines and squeezed her too tight. Darkness flooded her vision, pulsing with something unnatural. Something his. And Sadie hated the way her body reacted.

His fingers pulled her elbow, bringing her into the darkness with him and she knew she'd lost their game. She stopped fighting. She stopped running from him. The nickname tugged at some memory, something she didn't understand. But her mind had no time to grasp any sort of meaning before he moved. With one sharp tug, her back hit something solid- his chest or the wall.

She didn't know which one it was, she didn't care. He was too close. The scent of him flooded her senses, dark and rich like his laughter, but laced with something cold she didn't have a name for. Her pulse hammered in her throat and she knew he felt it.

Gods, he was enjoying this.

She flinched when his breath his her hair, his voice thick with amusement and a predatory edge that she needed to get away from.

Cute?

Cute!?

The nerve of this blood-sucking, cursed, arrogant asshole.

Heat flared in her chest, skin flushing. She should have been scared. Well, she was afraid...but her fears were mingling with something just as sharp and dangerous as his canines. She still had the dagger on her, but her bandaged hands were locked with invisible cuffs.

She refused to look up at him and give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear, but her body seemed to have noticed things without looking up at him. Like the way his grip on her was only firm, not bruising or forcing the cuts on her hands to reopen. Or the way the cold that spread over her burning skin wasn't as icy as it had been in her office.

Or the way his voice sent something disgustingly traitorous through her spine-

No, she would not react.

"Before you bite me, tell me what it means." She demanded. "Ilithoré? What does it mean?" She repeated herself, butchering the pronunciation of the word not found in her language.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai could feel her pulse hammering beneath his fingertips, quick and uneven, betraying the way she tried to hold herself together. Her body, despite her defiance, was reacting to him— the rise in temperature, every shift, every breath, every subtle tremble didn’t escape him. The tension in the air between them was thick, charged with the push and pull of fear and something far more dangerous.

He didn’t need to see her face to know what she was feeling. He could hear it in the way her breath caught in her throat, the way her muscles tensed, the way her heart beat faster. She was so easy to read, yet she thought she was hiding it all. It amused him—how determined she was to remain untouchable, even as she surrendered herself to the rising storm of their proximity.

He could feel her thoughts swirling, a desperate mix of anger, confusion, and something else... something sharper, something dangerous.

When she finally spoke, her voice was still demanding—no longer shaking, but filled with the force of her stubbornness.

Before you bite me...

A soft chuckle escaped him as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her hair, his voice pure, dark satisfaction. "Bite you?" he murmured, as if the thought was as absurd as it was intriguing. "You think I’m some mindless beast? Right now I'm the only reason you're alive." he smirked.

His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw before curling into her hair, pulling her just enough closer to feel the heat of her skin against his. His lips grazed her ear as he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "It’s been a long time since I’ve been tempted by such things," he admitted, the words thick with unspoken intent. "But you should know better than to think I’m just some animal. What you’ve unleashed isn’t so simple."

"Il-i-thoré," he repeated softly, as if tasting it on his tongue, savouring it. His grip on her elbow tightened, not painful, but a firm reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. "It's the name of a thorny shrub," he explained, his tone lilted with amusement, every word slow and deliberate. "Sharp. Prickly. Invasive. Not as soft and as sweet as the little bird I mistook you for."

He could feel the heat radiating off of her skin, the way she flinched when he spoke, like she was trying to ignore the way his presence was overwhelming her. She didn’t even realise how much she wanted to fight back and yet, she was already caught.

 

[Sadie]

Sadie hated the way her body betrayed her, how it reacted to him. She hated the way his body pressed against her wings made her shudder as he trapped her in a prison of smoke and shadow. She knew he could sense the subtle trembling she tried to hide. And still, he was finding amusement in the way she couldn't mask anything.

His breath hit her spine when he laughed, sending a jolt of electricity down her spine. It was a warning. He was a lethal predator and she was the prey caught in his claws.

Right now I'm the only reason you are alive.

His fingers brushed her jaw, touch just light enough to make her inhale sharply and hold her breath as he tilted her head. It was a reminder that she was his to maneuver. There was no illusion that she had any amount of control. And she hated that she let him hover over her neck. She clenched her teeth, but found no words to fight back with. Her pulse fluttered violently, but she felt oddly calm.

She scanned her memories to try and remember if she had ever read about the effect vampires had on their prey right before killing them.

"I haven't unleashed anything." She mumbled, another shudder breaking through when his breath hit the skin just below her ear. A thrill of something...fear, anger, no...something worse curled in her lower stomach as she let his words sink in.

Il-i-thore.

A fucking shrub. Sadie suddenly felt smaller than that little bird trapped in a cage. He was comparing her to a fucking inanimate object. Something lesser than even a useless, pathetic bird. Great.

She pulled at her arm, trying to get him to release her. Instead, his grip tightened. Not painful, just possessive. It was a silent command that she wouldn't be leaving on her own terms. It was like fighting against steel. She tried to extend her wings, to fling them in his face just to get him away from her. Of course it was no use fighting a man built of marble.

"You don't know anything about me." She gritted out, shoving once again against his chest. How ironic, when he still had not given her a name to call him. "And I don't know what you want from me. You burned the documents. You stole my journal. I have nothing more to give you so let. Me. Go." She pushed again. "I won't tell anyone what you are. Please, let me go home."

 

[Nikolai]

The shadows curled tighter around her, twisting like living ropes, turning her to face him. Light bled back in, slow and deliberate, revealing his face in fractured pieces—first the sharp line of his jaw, then the amused curve of his lips, and finally, his violet eyes, gleaming like a predator’s in the dim light. He studied her in silence, gaze heavy, drinking in the way she trembled beneath his hold.

'I haven't unleashed anything.'

“Oh, but you have,” he murmured, his voice smooth, dark, and certain.

Shadowy tendrils lashed against her wings, not cruelly, but firmly, wrapping like coiled rope. They bound her, restrained her, yet there was something almost… curious in the way they moved. The edges of the shadows softened, like fingertips ghosting over her leathery wings in slow, featherlight strokes, a mockery of gentleness. Testing. Exploring.

His head tilted slightly, brow furrowing for the briefest of moments as she pushed against him, as she begged him to let her leave. The words slithered between them, and for the first time, the shadows hesitated, then they simply fell away.

Nikolai let the silence stretch, watching as she stood there, unbound yet unmoving, as if she knew freedom was an illusion. His expression was unreadable, his features cast in flickering candlelight, his jaw tight as he exhaled slowly.

“You think it’s so simple?” His voice, though soft, carried the weight of something absolute. “That you can know what I am? That I can know what you are… and simply let you return to your .. 'life' ?"

He shook his head, slow and deliberate, the smallest flicker of something almost… pitying in his gaze.
If only she knew. How many had begged before her? How many had whispered their pleas, their promises, swearing silence, swearing loyalty, swearing anything—only for their voices to be silenced forever? People had died for far less than what she now knew.

He lifted a hand, the movement slow, deliberate, before tucking his fingers beneath her chin. It was not forceful, not unkind, but it left no room for argument. He tilted her face up, studying her the way one might a delicate, rare thing—something that should not exist, something that, by all logic, should be gone already.

He should kill her. He should have done so the moment he'd met her.

The shadows at his feet coiled as if waiting for the command, eager to finish what he had always done in situations like this. And yet, he only smirked.

“No, Ilith,” he said, quiet and certain. “I don’t think I will.”

 

[Sadie]

Sadie caught a glimpse of Nikolai as he turned her around, averting her gaze almost instantly. She tried to force her expression into neutrality. She hated how the shadows obeyed him as their master, how they coiled around her, up her wings and lightly dragged over them with a soft, but deliberate intent. Unlike the look his face promised, it was not a cruel or violent touch, but something like knowing. Testing. Probing for information.

She tried to hide how maddening the sensation was- a whisper on her skin that was out of her control completely. Her wings flexed tightly and shuddered beneath the shadows. Sadie gritted her teeth and held her breath, forcing the rest of her to remain still.

But just as suddenly as they had bound her, they vanished. She should have run. She wanted to run. But she didn't. Something held her in place even after his shadows had released her. Even if she ran, he would catch her. No matter how far she moved or how fast her legs carried her, he would still own the space between them. True freedom was only an illusion as long as he was interested in whatever he thought she was.

"I...I don't know what you think I am." She clenched her fists at her sides. She could still feel where his shadows had caressed her, a burning reminder against her wings. He lifted her chin up before she could pull herself away. Like the shadows, it seemed careful. Deceptively gentle. But there was no mistaking it for anything but an order to look at him.

She wanted to wrench her face away, even if it hurt her in the process. She was not an object to be inspected, a toy to be played with. Instead, she met his gaze. Violet eyes gleamed even in the dim hallway, eyes curiously raking over her.

I don't think I will.

She felt her stomach drop. He wasn't going to kill her. Sadie should have felt relief, should have thanked whatever gods still bothered to give her a moment's time for sparing her. But she knew mercy did not come without its price. Whatever debt she had incurred... She would spend the rest of her life regretting. He may be sparing her now, but somehow keeping her alive, keeping her here, may have been infinitely worse.

"Then what?" She forced the words out, needing an answer. "What do you want from me? What are you going to do with me?" She was more afraid of his answer than she was of his sharpened canines.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai watched her in silence, his thumb idly brushing against the underside of her chin before he released her. The weight of her words hung between them, fragile and trembling, but her voice did not break. Good. He wasn’t fond of things that broke too easily.

She was waiting for an answer. Desperate for one. And he wasn’t entirely sure he had it.

His head tilted slightly, as if studying her from a new angle might present a different solution to his little predicament. He could take her to Her—his mistress would want to know about this. Would want to see her, to pick her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. But something about that felt… premature.

He could kill her, of course. That had been the plan, hadn’t it? Tie up the loose end, erase all evidence, snuff out the flickering ember before it had a chance to become a fire. But he’d already decided he didn’t much feel like doing that, either.

He could keep her here, though she’d undoubtedly make that difficult.

Or he could wipe her memory. Strip her of every piece of knowledge she’d uncovered, of every whisper of the Ail’Thain, of him. Send her back to her dull little life, none the wiser. But…

That felt boring.

He inhaled slowly, savoring the scent of her, the remnants of ink and old parchment mingling with something sharper, something alive and thrumming beneath her skin. Her fear was still there, laced into every heartbeat, but it was no longer just fear. Something else stirred beneath it.

Something interesting.

His lips curled, his violet gaze flickering with amusement as he finally spoke. “Well, that is the question, isn’t it?” he mused, as if he hadn’t already been weighing his options in the space between her breaths. “What am I going to do with you?”

He lifted a hand, dragging it over his jaw, pretending to consider it for a long moment before he leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over her skin, low and dark as he murmured,

“You are a little.. predicament. A conundrum. You are interesting, Ilith." he sighed. "Very little truly interests me, these days.. And lets be honest, here.." he said, his dimples reappearing as he grinned at her, canines on full show. "I'm the most interesting thing to happen to you in your pathetic little life."

He let the silence stretch again, waiting for the weight of those words to settle in before straightening with a lazy grace. His smirk softened, just slightly, as if he had reached a decision, though he still wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“So,” he said, exhaling a slow breath as he stepped back, his shadows slithering in his wake. “It seems you get to live. Lucky you.” His tone was almost pleasant, but there was something sharp beneath it, something that promised she would regret it, one way or another.

As for what he wanted from her?

His violet gaze flickered with something unreadable, something dangerous.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out.”

 

[Sadie]

Sadie was quiet. She didn't move, didn't speak. Couldn't or wouldn't, she was unsure. The space where his breath hit her skin burned, but not in a way it should have. Not in a way she understood.

Living wasn't a victory, Sadie realized. Whatever he had decided- if he had actually decided anything at all- was not going to be in her favor.

He called her a predicament, a conundrum. He spoke of her like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. A book he hadn't finished reading. A question he couldn't answer. His lack of answers was quickly grating on her nerves. He could state so many things about her, vague things that made absolutely no sense. As if in some sense he did know her. He knew which piece of the puzzle she was. But he wouldn't even fucking give her a name to call him. The only thing she knew was what he was.

An Ail'thain.

You are interesting, Ilith.

But why? She didn't ask for an answer, knowing she wouldn't get one if she had. Her pride wouldn't let her anyway. Though, that very question had clawed its way inside of her skull as she tried to piece it together herself. What did he know?

I'm the most interesting thing to happen to you in your pathetic little life.

She clenched her jaw, the words slicing through her. He was trying to bait her, to goad her into reacting to his taunting. But Sadie refused to give him the satisfaction, though she hated that he wasn't wrong. He was a missing piece. Eluin would have given the stars and the moons for a moment of his time. He had the answers to questions she had while chasing through crumbling tomes and worn scrolls. A thing that slipped between lines, just a little out of reach. He was always there, yet never quite tangible. An Ail'thain. Living, breathing, smirking.

Sadie watched him retreat slightly, the urge to scream at him and tell him to go to hell lingering on the tip of her tongue. He wasn't killing her today, but she couldn't be reckless. This would give her time to learn while she plotted an escape. She wasn't stupid enough to think she had any power here anyway.

She stared at him, chin lifted as she met his burning violet stare. She would show him she wasn't afraid of him.

Even if it was a lie. Even if he could sense her fear between them.

He liked that she was interesting. That was all it was. She was a shiny toy for him to play with until the thing that was interesting wasn't anymore. However long that took.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" She demanded, holding her stare. "I'd like to thank your benevolence properly. May I return home after this debacle, or will you be keeping your newest trophy in a dungeon?" Her tone was not kind, but her words were much kinder than what she wished to say.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s smirk curled at the edges of his lips, slow and lazy, as if her words were the most amusing thing he’d heard all evening. He had seen the way she clenched her jaw, how she fought against every instinct that screamed at her to run, to lash out, to crumble beneath the weight of what she now knew. But she wouldn’t. Not yet.

And gods, wasn’t that just delightful?

Nikolai’s laugh was soft, almost thoughtful, but the mockery in it slithered beneath his words like a knife hidden beneath silk. He could feel her unraveling, could smell the sharp tang of fear woven into every breath she took, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. It was intoxicating.

And yet, still, she pushed.

His smirk sharpened as he took a step forward, pressing her back to a wall of solid shadow. The air grew thick, charged with something suffocating. He wanted her to feel it.

"Firstly - my name,” he mused, voice rich with dark amusement, “why should I give it so freely to one who has not offered hers?" His violet eyes flicked over her, drinking in the tension in her shoulders, the way she clenched her fists like it would somehow keep her from trembling. "What does my name matter, Ilith?" He let the nickname curl off his tongue, twisting it into something mocking. "I'm sure you've already come up with several of your own."

His head tilted, watching her so intently, as if curious about the way she stood there, still pretending she had a choice, still pretending that her words carried weight. Then, his expression shifted, something almost pitying—cruel in its deception.

“Is that truly what you want?” he asked, and this time, he pressed into the silence, making it suffocating, daring her to answer. “To go home?”. The corner of his mouth twitched, but the amusement in his eyes faded. His brow furrowed, his frown slow, deliberate, like he was genuinely disappointed in her.

“You haven’t even stayed for supper yet.” The words were light, almost conversational, but the weight behind them was anything but kind. He was mocking her, pretending this was something simple, pretending she had any say in how this would end.

A slow breath, a shift of his weight, and then—before she could react—the shadows lashed around her wrist like a vice, yanking her forward, forcing her closer.

“Let me make something very clear to you, Ilith,” he murmured, his voice a blade against her skin. "You are not going home. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever, unless I decide it amuses me to watch you crawl back to whatever hollow little life you’ve been living. You know what I am. How beneath me you are, how insignificant I find your life.." he laughed mirthlessly. "I let you live. I brought you home and allowed you to rest in my bed - not in a dungeon, so I should think you'd be a little more grateful.."

His fingers ghosted over the pulse at her throat, the barest touch, his smirk returning as he felt the way her heart raced against her will.

"But by all means," he continued, stepping back, releasing her suddenly as if she were nothing, as if he had already grown bored, "keep pretending you have a say in this."

He turned, voice lazy, taunting as he walked casually down the corridor.

 

[Sadie]

Her brow furrowed, hatred burning in her eyes with every word uttered by the Ail'thain. He allowed silence to fill the moments between questions of his own. Thick, suffocating silence that was clearly not meant to be broken by the words of a mortal, pathetic girl. Of course she wanted to go home. It was a pathetic existence for him, but it was tolerable for her. It was familiar and comforting and she wanted to go home.

Sadie scowled at him until he finished speaking. And only when he finally turned to walk away did she respond. "Sadie. My name is Sadie."

---

Refusing to submit to her captivity was a bold, and often stupid, move. No matter how hopeless it seemed, Sadie made it clear she was not going to be some sort of caged animal for Nikolai's amusement. He hadn't locked her in a room, no, but he often kept her close in proximity.

Of course, she refused to sleep in his bed. Even if he wasn't going to join her. She hadn't been offered another bed. She wouldn't even step near the obsidian masterpiece that she had awoken in. Instead, she often found herself wandering at night. She slept curled up on sofas, tucked away near bay windows, or even the cold stone floor. It didn't matter how uncomfortable she was. She never rested, not really at least. She barely slept at all while she waited for the moment she could run.

And run she tried.

Her first attempt was almost immediate. When Nikolai had finally walked down the corridor, when the shadows weren't actively curling around her in a restraint, she bolted straight for the front door. And she almost made it. Almost.

The worst part was that it was unlocked, right there in front of her. She had been able to throw it open and step out exactly three steps into the night air. Then, the ground disappeared from her feet and the world turned black. One moment she was running, the next, the air seemed to ripple around her, bending and warping until suddenly she was here again. Right back where she started in the gods-damned entryway of his house. This time the door was locked.

Nikolai was leaning against a doorframe, watching her with his infuriating amusement.

The second attempt came four days later, after some careful observations of his estate. The shadows seemed to move with a mind of their own, distorting her vision when she wandered too far. Corridors seemed to shift and doors never led anywhere useful. But the windows...seemed normal enough.

She waited until the dead of night, when Nikolai had left to take care of something more important than babysitting a very pissed off fae female. She shattered the glass of the window in his own bedroom with one of the wooden chairs. Shards of glass bit into her hands, but the painful sacrifice was one she was willing to make.

It seemed, however, that he was not willing to allow such a sacrifice. While climbing up the ledge, a pair of hands closed around her waist and yanked her back inside. She thrashed against his grip, but he was stronger. And he still seemed to find amusement in her attempts, smirking as she promised she would escape. He dropped her on the floor and by the time she opened her eyes, the window was whole again. She fell asleep with bleeding hands, and when she awoke even those were bandaged and cleaned.

Weeks passed and her attempts grew more desperate. Sadie couldn't beat him physically, couldn't outrun him, couldn't get past his magic. So she changed her tactics.

She hadn't seen Nikolai eat...ever, but he was always drinking something dark and red. Always, and carelessly at that. She had noticed when he left his glass, half-full, on the table in his room for an hour or two while he took care of something else. When he returned, he would continue where he left off. On this night, she acted fast, crushing up petals of various plants she knew were poisonous from her own research. She let the extract drip into his drink.

Sadie forced herself to stay and sit across from him when he returned, picking at her own food she had been given- though she rarely ate any of it. She watched him pick up the glass.

Watched him pause.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk. He swirled the wine, violet eyes glowing as he lifted it up to his lips...

And let the entire glass go crashing to the floor.

By the end of the month, she had tried everything- every possible trick, strategy, bargain. And she was still here. And she still hated him.

And she was so, so tired.

So she did what she swore she wouldn't do for such an evil man.

She begged.

Nikolai was sitting in his room, at the opposite end to the bed. Like always.

"Let me go," She whispered, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't do this anymore, couldn't live like this for the rest of her life. "Please."

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s eyes lifted from the worn pages of his book, the candlelight casting flickering shadows over his face as he regarded her with something like mild interest.

She was crying.

His lips parted slightly, as if tasting the moment, weighing it. He’d seen her desperate before—angry, defiant, shaking with fury as she threw herself against his walls, his magic, his patience. But this? This was different.

Was she finally broken?

His gaze swept over her, taking in the slight tremble in her limbs, the damp trails of tears glistening on her cheeks. Her shoulders curled inward, her voice so quiet, so small.

‘Let me go. Please.’

For a long moment, he simply stared.

Then, he sighed, closing the book with a slow, deliberate movement before setting it aside.

“Please stop that,” he said, voice firm but lacking any real heat. “Tears bore me.” His brow furrowed slightly, as if the sight of them was something distasteful, something that irritated him more than amused him.

He leaned back in his chair, resting his chin against his hand, and let the silence stretch between them, watching the way her hands twisted in the fabric of the dress she’d been given, the way her chest heaved with the weight of it all.

Weak.

Pathetic.

He had expected more.

His tone was bored when he spoke again, gaze returning to the book as though she were nothing more than another insignificant moment in an eternity of them. “Your attempts at escaping… and trying to kill me…” His smirk curled faintly, though there was no humour in it. “They have been weak.”

He flipped a page, his fingers tapping idly against the spine. “You’ve yet to use your gifts. You’ve yet to show me what you are truly capable of.” A pause, deliberate. “I’ve yet to decide if you are worthy of the life I’ve granted you.”

His violet eyes flicked back to her then, sharp and assessing, watching the way his words cut.

“And, Ilith…” He let the name linger, let it curl into the space between them like a whisper of something inevitable. “After what you unleashed in that forest… if you truly believe you’re safer out there, then you are sorely mistaken.”

He let the truth settle, let her think about it. Let her remember the thing that had emerged from the shadows at her command, the horror of its twisted limbs, its jagged grin.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, studying her in that way that made it seem like she was something less than real.

“You’re safe here,” he said, voice low, velvet-soft. “I make sure you’re fed, do I not?” His lips twitched into a smirk. “Despite you disrespecting my hospitable nature at every turn.”

His amusement faded just slightly, his head tilting.

“Would you rather be hunted, Ilith?” His voice dipped lower, something dark curling at the edges. “Would you rather see what happens to little birds when they fly too far from their cage?”

A pause.

Then, he leaned back again, the shadows at his feet curling in lazy, satisfied waves.

“By all means,” he murmured, reaching for his book once more, “tell me how cruel I am for keeping you alive.”

 

[Sadie]

Sadie was shaking. Not from fear-not anymore-but a sadness so vast it felt like drowning and from a rage so great, it made her stomach twist. She hated him. She hated his voice. She hated his smirks, his condescending tone, the way he toyed with her like she was so small and insignificant. She hated that he spoke like he had given her something other than a cage to live in and a nightmare she would never wake from.

Her breath hitched and her shoulders shook as she glared at him from her blurry, tear filled eyes. "Grateful? You think I should be grateful?" Her voice cracked again, hysterical. She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hands. "You stole me from my life. You trapped me like an animal." Her voice grew louder with each word. "And for what? I have no gifts!"

She stepped forward with hands curled into fists at her sides. "I will escape." She promised again, her voice now wild and unsteady as her heart beat. "I do not care what is waiting for me out there. I would rather be hunted and die than be your prisoner for a second longer."

The air felt thick and suffocating, the large room now much too small. Something burned beneath her skin, magic thrumming in her bones, her veins, her nerves. It was a living thing. And it was far too much- too much emotion, fury, magic- and she couldn't contain it. She couldn't stop the way raw and untamed power spilled from her.

Shadows flickered around the edges of the room. Something crackled loudly. Candlelight guttered for a moment before dying, snuffed out as if there were no oxygen left in the room to keep them alive.

Something shifted in the corner.

And a slow, creaking sound echoed. It was soft at first, then sharper, closer, cracking like bones snapping into place. And then it growled, low and angry.

Sadie froze, a strangled breath catching in her throat.

The shape wove itself into existence from the darkness, the shadows. It was moving fast, too fast and too fluid. Like the first creature, it seemed to be created of many parts with twisting joints and angles that seems unnatural. But this one was different. The limbs were spindly and jagged and it moved too fast, flickering in and out of sight like a mirage. It scuttled along the wall like a spider and then it flickered out of existence again.

And in the blink of an eye, it was behind her.

But, Sadie realized as she whirled around and screamed, that it wasn't there to hurt her. It didn't care about her. It wouldn't touch her. It only had eyes for him.

It released a sound, high and chittering like laughter, and launched itself at Nikolai.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai felt it before he saw it.

The shift in the air, the pulse of magic thrumming through the room like a sudden, violent heartbeat. It crackled against his skin, raw and alive, something untamed, something that sent a slow shudder racing down his spine.

Beautiful.

His grin curled, slow and dark, his eyes gleaming like a predator who had just scented something worth hunting. He inhaled deeply, tasting the weight of her magic, the sharp edge of it, laced with her fury, her pain, her will. It was intoxicating, electric, a wildfire roaring to life where before there had only been embers.

“There she is,” he murmured, violet eyes drinking her in like she was something new, something unseen, something finally worth the trouble.

The room pulsed with unnatural energy. Shadows twisted at the edges of the chamber, curling like serpents, whispering their secrets. Candlelight flickered and then snuffed out, leaving only darkness, save for the glow of his own gaze, watching, waiting.

Nikolai turned his head slightly, slow, unbothered, watching the movement with something almost like amusement. He placed his book down, deliberate, smooth, as if the creature had not yet warranted his concern.

But then—it leapt. And the shadows swallowed him.

The shift was instant. Seamless. The chair he'd been sitting on toppled, and a monstrous, black wolf rolled onto it's feet—not a simple beast, but something made of the void itself, of darkness given form. Its body drank any light that remained in the room, absorbing it, warping it. Its fur was not fur at all, but a living shadow, shifting and writhing like something barely contained.

The creature struck.

Pain lanced through him—sharp claws raking across his shoulder, slicing into flesh. The wolf snarled, the sound so low, so deep, that the walls themselves seemed to tremble. The scent of his own blood filled the air, hot and thick, but he did not falter.

The wolf moved. He slammed the creature to the ground, massive paws pinning its writhing form beneath him. Its too-many limbs jerked, scrambling, its mouth splitting open in a jagged grin as it screeched—a noise so piercing, so wrong, that it nearly shattered his sensitive ears.

The creature blinked—one moment beneath him, the next flickering out of existence, the wolf's sharp teeth snapping down on nothing.

Nikolai barely had time to react before it reappeared behind him, its jagged limbs slicing across his ribs. Pain flared, sharp and immediate, searing through his side as blood splattered the cold stone floor. His massive form twisted, shadows curling violently around him, but again—it vanished.

Another flicker. Another slice.

This time, across his hind leg, cutting deep.

A deep, snarling growl rumbled from his throat, his violet eyes burning in the darkness as he scanned the space, ears flicking at every unnatural sound, tracking the scent of its rotting, cloying presence. It blinked again, scuttling up the walls, its too-long limbs jerking at impossible angles.

It lunged again. Flickering back into existence just as its maw gaped wide, its jagged, blackened teeth snapping toward his throat.

Nikolai moved. A blur of shadow, of seamless violence. His massive form twisted midair, and this time, he caught it. A snarl tore from his throat as his powerful jaws clamped around its spindly, writhing neck. The creature screeched, limbs spasming, its grotesque body twisting as it struggled—but Nikolai was done playing.

He slammed it down, the impact shaking the floor beneath them. Shadows shuddered violently in his wake, thickening, hardening, locking the creature in place as he pressed his massive paws down on it, feeling it crack beneath the weight of him, his fangs bared.

Its many eyes darted wildly, jagged limbs jerking as it chittered—laughing, despite the weight of the void crushing it beneath him. The wolf snapped, his fangs gleaming as he clamped his jaws around its twisting neck, his growl reverberating through the chamber as he tore the head from its twisted body and it stilled.

 

[Sadie]

It moved too fast. One moment, it had been slithering between the shadows, and the next, it was lunging for him with its claws, legs, or whatever the fuck they were, aimed to kill. Sadie stumbled backward, her heart pounding as she could only watch the wolf fight it in a stunned silence. Shadows coiled around him as he dodged attacks with lethal precision. He was fast, just as unnaturally fast as the monster was.

Her monster, rather.

This was her fault.

This was hers.

A choked sound tore from her throat, her vision blurring. She couldn't tell if it was from tears or panic or just the sheer force of her own innate wrongness.

She needed to get out, to get away now. While Nikolai was distracted with whatever horrible thing she had created. Guilt ate her as she allowed the monster to attack, to slash at Nikolai until he was bleeding. But still, she turned while they were both distracted. And she ran for the unlocked door.

The cold burned. She hadn't been dressed for this, not another escape attempt, not for the snow that swallowed her ankles, not for the wind that sliced through her thin clothing, biting her skin like tiny blades. She didn't look back, not even when a horrific screech sounded through the home. She couldn't look. She didn't want to see if Nikolai was following, or if the creature had won.

Her only thoughts were to keep moving. Where? That, she had no idea.

Branches clawed at her skin but she persisted. She didn't feel pain, not through the panic flooding her veins or the screaming in her head that wouldn't...wouldn't shut up. She had made that thing. That monster. The truth of it overtook her thoughts, hammering out any thoughts that may help her figure out where she was going or what she was doing. She had known something was wrong with her. Nikolai seemed to have known it even more than she, with all his comments of her powers over the weeks she spent trapped in his home.

She had felt that power before, burning under her skin as it searched for a way out. She felt it the last time she'd been running through a forest. She hadn't understood it before, but now she did. And worse, she couldn't stop the burning. A shudder raked through her the moment she realized she couldn't stop it, and she felt a familiar shift.

Shadows at her feet moved, flickering to her right- too fast and fluid. And then another darted ahead, skittering through the trees. They were smaller than the thing in the estate. A third one had wings and banked upwards just as she caught sight of it. They weren't so much like the monsters before...more like fragments. Shapeless, twisting things blinking in and out of existence, moving silently as they traversed the forest and disappeared.

Tears streamed down Sadie's cheeks. Please stop, please stop! She begged whatever god was cruel enough to curse her. A howl sounded in this distance and she stumbled, nearly collapsing in the snow. It could be Nikolai, or it could be another one of these monsters. She didn't want to find out, so she forced herself back up and forced her legs to move as fast as they could carry her.

She didn't know how far she had gone. She didn't know if she had been running in circles or if she was any closer to her freedom. She was completely and utterly lost. Like always. But that didn't matter anymore because if Nikolai had wanted to keep her a secret, if he had wanted to keep her hidden, then he was going to have a very, very big problem. She had unleashed things that could not be undone. Things that were now just as lost as her as they spread out in different directions throughout the forest.

 

[Nikolai]

The wolf snarled at the burning pain that throbbed through his body. Something was wrong.

His vision tilted, the floor beneath him shifting like rolling waves. The scent of his own blood was thick in the air, dripping steadily from the slashes torn into his sides, his shoulder and hind leg. The wounds burned, deeper than they should have been, and when he stepped back, his paws faltered. He staggered, shaking his head against the dizzying haze that threatened to pull him under.

It wasn’t just blood loss. That wasn't normally much of a concern for him. He healed faster than any creature had a right to. This was different.

The world lurched around him as he forced himself forward, his claws scraping against the floor as he stumbled toward the door. The air hit him like a slap, freezing and sharp as it rushed into the house.

The door was open.

His stomach dropped.

Shit.

A snarl ripped from his throat, frustration and pain curling into something dangerous. His limbs protested as he moved, but he moved, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

She had run. He'd warned her of the dangers that made home of the deep forests surrounding his home, and she'd chosen to run head first into it.

A growl built in his chest, his breath curling in the frigid night air as his violet eyes locked onto her trail—footsteps hurried and uneven, half-stamped into the snow as she fled. The scent of her, something wilder now, something untamed—was thick in the air.

She was panicking.

Good. She should be.

He pushed himself faster, forcing his aching body to comply. The forest stretched ahead, twisting and shifting in the dark, the shadows playing tricks on his vision. Branches clawed at him as he ran, scraping over torn flesh, but he didn’t stop.

Then he heard it, the howl.

His heart slammed against his ribs as his muscles coiled, his blood leaving a crimson trail in the pristine white snow, the path ahead of him twisting and warping and the shadows, his mind, was playing tricks.

She wasn’t just running from him. Something else was already hunting her..

Shadows curled and twisted at the edges of Nikolai’s vision, warping the snow-laden trees, shifting the world as his poisoned blood burned through his veins. Every breath came sharp, ragged, the weight of exhaustion dragging at his limbs, but still—he ran.

Sadie’s scent was fresh, her fear thick in the air, but something else was there too. Something wrong.

He could hear it—the heavy, uneven panting, the crunch of long limbs carving through the snow, stalking her. Not a wolf. Not really. A creature twisted by something ancient and hungry, its body unnatural, stretched and contorted. Sparse patches of fur clung to its sickly, sinewy form, its long maw curled back in a snarl, teeth too sharp, too many.

It was hunting her. And he was just fast enough to see it lunge.

Nikolai leapt, intercepting it in midair with a snarl that tore through the frozen night. They collided, his weight slamming them both against the trunk of a tree with a sickening crack. The beast yelped but recovered fast, its fangs snapping for his throat.

He slashed at it with his claws, ripping through its side, but his body wasn’t right. His limbs felt slow, leaden, and the world tilted beneath him.

Ilithore. Her fucking venom. The beast twisted, slamming into him with unnatural strength, sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, rolling through the snow, pain screaming through his already shredded body.

Before he could move, before he could react, the monster was on him. Razor-like claws tore into his chest, sinking deep, piercing through flesh. Nikolai howled, vision flashing white as his blood spilled into the snow.

Rage fueled him. Instinct fueled him. With a violent snarl, he kicked the beast off, sending it crashing through the snow.

Shifting back, he rolled to his hands and knees, his fae form drenched in crimson, his breaths ragged. His muscles trembled with the effort to stand upright, his eyes blinking heavily against the haze in his mind.

The creature snarled, lunging for him again. But this time the shadows struck first.

Dark tendrils lashed out, twisting around its elongated limbs, strapping it down mid-leap. The beast thrashed, snarling, writhing against the living darkness, but it was caught.

Nikolai staggered to his feet, every inch of him screaming in protest. His vision blurred, but his hand was steady as he conjured the sword of shadow into his grip.

One step. Then another. His breath came in ragged bursts as he closed the distance. The beast screeched, its glowing eyes locked onto him, its limbs jerking wildly in desperation.

The monster jolted as Nikolai plunged the blade into its chest, a choked yelp escaping its throat, its body convulsing once before it stilled. The forest fell into silence, the only sound left was Nikolai’s shallow breathing. The sword of shadow dissipated, his fingers twitching as he let go. And then, his body gave out.

He collapsed into the snow, the last thing he felt was the whisper of shadows curling protectively around him.

 

[Sadie]

The howl froze Sadie in place. It was so much closer now, nowhere near the estate, she realized. She turned, breaths ragged and legs trembling. Her body screamed to keep running, but something- an instinct- forced her to stay. A voice in her head that was old, ancient and most definitely not hers begged her to stop. Ordered her to turn and watch where that howl came from.

She moved just in time to see the hideous thing lunge at her and realized something.

It wasn't hers.

That realization was the first thing that crashed into her as it burst from the shadows. It was massive, gnarled, and unnatural. But it was not hers. It looked like a wolf. A diseased and rotten wolf, but at its very base form, it had been a wolf, which seemed very unlike her creations. Creations which appeared to be based outside of reality. This creature burst through the shadows, its maw stretched wide with glistening teeth that were created to rip things apart. Its eyes gleamed with an insatiable hunger, and they were locked onto her.

She didn't even have the time to scream.

There was a blur of movement and a pained screech. A dark shape slammed into the beast in mid-air and the two crashed into a tree. The crack of bone and the tearing of flesh made bile rise in the back of Sadie's throat. She stood there, numb, and only watched as they came tumbling down into the snow. Him. Oh Fuck. Sadie's eyes went wide, her hand covering her mouth to stop herself from letting out a sound. They moved like animals- him with shadows curling around his form and shifting as they fought.

But he was slower now, his movement growing sluggish. Something was off. He was a quick healer. That much she knew from her research. He should have recovered in the time it took him to get here from the estate. Something had happened. Something her creature did had done something. Had her creature poisoned him?

The thoughts barely had time to settle before they lunged again. He barely dodged snapping jaws before his form shifted and he was fae again. But he still moved like he was half asleep. The beast jolted and made one last leap for him. Sadie couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She could only watch, hoping Nikolai had conserved enough energy to survive the beast.

Too much blood painted the snow in deep crimson. Nikolai was losing. He was going to die because of her.

A surge of shadows lashed out and ensnared the beast. Nikolai stepped forward and a shadowy sword appeared in his hands. The blade struck true, deep in the beast's chest. The creature let out a sharp yelp that rattled Sadie's bones. And then...silence. The beast convulsed for a moment before slumping forward and going completely still.

Sadie staggered backward, her body urging her to run and leave Nikolai there. But that same voice forced her to look. A figure- his figure- crumpled into the snow and her breath hitched. He didn't attempt to hold himself up. His wounds, wherever they were, still oozed black-red blood that stained the snow. Shadows moved before Sadie could, curling around him like a protective cocoon. He looked too still. Too...mortal.

He's going to die, Sadie realized, the thought twisting in her gut. She shouldn't care. She shouldn't feel some sort of...guilt...sinking its claws deep into her. He deserved this, didn't he? He had kidnapped her. He had held her, a prisoner in his estate for over a month. He deserved this. So why, Sadie wondered, why were her feet already moving, trudging through the snow towards him. Her breath came in sharp gasps as the cold finally sunk into her bones.

She shook his shoulder. Nothing.

"Wake up, wake up!" She hesitated, looking over him, trying to figure out what she could do to help him.

Blood. He needs blood.

That voice spoke again, but she clenched her teeth and shook her head. No. She wouldn't let him consume her blood, but she wouldn't leave him to die in the forest and be eaten by creatures far worse than whatever that was that had attacked.

She grit her teeth and grabbed him from under his armpits, trying to haul his limp body upright. He was heavy. So, so heavy. He was dead weight in her grip. The shadows- his shadows- stirred around him, curling around her wrists and wrapping up her arms. She shuddered at the contact and realized that they were helping her. He was still heavy, but manageable. It took an age and a half to trace her footsteps back to the estate, but by the time the sun was rising she could see the estate.

Another forty minutes and they were bursting into the foyer. The shadows dissipated and she dropped him there, collapsing on the ground beside him. And now we wait to see if he dies. She shut her eyes and listened to the sound of his shallow breathing.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s mind was consumed by darkness, a thick, endless void that seemed to press in from all sides. He was dimly aware of being moved, but he couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His body burnined with fever, sweat beading on his brow, his throat, soaking into the blood-soaked clothes that clung to his skin. Every inch of him felt as though it were being torn apart, a slow, agonising descent into something darker than death itself. The poison—Sadie’s poison—had seeped too deep into him, wreaking havoc, tearing him apart from the inside out.

In the foyer, his body arched sharply off the floor, muscles locked in a violent tremor as his fist punched into the stone beneath him, the impact splintering it. His limbs trembled, fighting against the suffocating warmth, his heartbeat slow, each breath harder than the last. His shadows flickered at the edges of his consciousness, crawling and writhing like they were in torment too.

Time was meaningless in the haze of his fever. He couldn’t tell if minutes or hours had passed. His body writhed in protest, thrashing against the poison that was slowing his healing, unable to work fast enough to repair itself. The sharp pain of his wounds, deep and raw, had started to fade, though far slower than it should have. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his body began to close the gaping wounds, the bleeding finally slowing. But the burn of the poison still lingered, festering just beneath his skin, keeping him trapped in this fevered nightmare.

His shadows twisted and turned as if desperate to protect him, and still, they reached for her, curling toward her, beckoning her close.

His breathing slowed, the pain in his chest dulling slightly as his body began to fight back, but the poison had taken so much from him, and it still wasn’t over. His mind finally cleared enough for him to realise he wasn’t alone. He could feel her. Sadie.

The next breath he took was shallow, forced, but it was enough to draw him back, enough to bring him closer to the surface. The name he had given her fell from his lips, barely a whisper in the quiet of the room, but it was hers—he could feel it in the air.

“…Ilith.”

It was the only thing he could say, the only thought that could pierce through the delirium. And just as quickly, darkness began to pull him under once more.

 

[Sadie]

Sadie hadn't been aware his kind could react so violently to, well, anything. She was unaware the immortals could face such miniscule health crises such as a fever, but he was burning up. He almost felt mortal as the fever stole him from his consciousness. Sadie hated to admit that it was almost nice, in a horrible way.

She laid beside him on the cold stone floor of his foyer, close enough to savor the unnatural heat radiating from his skin as she tried desperately to warm her freezing body while his twisted in agony. Sweat was dripping from his brow- gods she didn't even know he could sweat. It soaked his torn and bloodied clothes while he spasmed, fist striking the ground so hard it cracked the stone.

The sound sent Sadie upright. Guilt gnawed at her chest.

This was all her fault.

She had never meant to kill him. She only wanted to escape.

But the poison- her poison- wasn't clearing fast enough from his system. It was burning through him, slowly and merciless. It was eating away from the inside out. His innate healing was trying, but it was sluggish and weak with the loss of his blood and the poison seeking to replace it. He was trapped beside her, drowning in his own body.

Shadows writhed and lashed around him, frantic and desperate. His expression flickered between torment and hunger. Then, they reached for her. She flinched at their touch, but they weren't sent to harm her nor were they sent to restrain her. They only sought to pull her close. She should have fought it and ignored them. She should have stayed exactly where she was and let the fates decide whether he lived or died.

...Ilith....

The name ghosted from his lips, barely louder than his shallow breaths. Worse, she felt it. The unexpected sting of guilt had returned as he stilled. He was slipping away. She was going to be a killer. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out. Her fingers brushed against his warm, damp skin and trailed along his jaw. His head lolled towards her touch, but he did not wake. Her poison was taking what it wanted, running its course. She could have let nature do its job. She should have.

But something inside her cracked. She was not a killer.

Sadie shifted closer, pulling his head into her lap. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. Her own tears mixed with the sheen of sweat over his skin. She had no idea if he could hear her, not that it mattered. "You will not die. Not like this. Not because of me."

She knew what he needed. Blood.

He wasn't moving. He wasn't fighting anymore.

He wasn't healing.

A ragged breath shuddered through her. Giving him her blood might kill her, but she would accept her own death before she would allow herself to be called a murderer. Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she reached for the dagger he'd given her access to a month ago and sliced at her wrist. Pain flared, a sharp metallic scent hit the air.

She sucked in a breath, going still as she held her wrist over his slightly parted lips. A single drop fell. And then another. He didn't react and she hesitated before pressing her wrist lightly against his mouth. "Please drink." She begged. "You will not die."

 

[Nikolai]

The moment the first drop of her blood hit his tongue, the world exploded.

Heat. Magic. Power.

It wasn’t just sustenance—it was everything. It hit him like a lightning strike, a wildfire consuming everything in its path, igniting every nerve, every muscle, every shattered fragment of his being. His body jerked violently, fingers twitching before locking around her wrist, holding it there, trapping it against his mouth as he drank.

One gulp.

Then another.

And gods.

His mind spun, drowning in something dark, something smoky, something so intoxicating it nearly broke him. Her power unfurled like velvet and shadow, curling through his veins, washing over his senses with a slow, insidious pleasure that made his chest heave.

It had been years—centuries—since he had last tasted fae blood. Since he had last felt anything remotely close to this.

Morrwyn had locked him away for it once. He had spent years chained to walls for his weakness. For the bloodlust that had driven him to excess, to ruin, that had consumed him for centuries. For the hundreds of bodies of those who had not been strong enough to survive him. It had done little for the discretion of their kind.

He had sworn never again.

But this—this was better than anything he had ever tasted.

Her blood was raw potential, thick with ancient, forbidden magic, something unnatural. It licked at his soul like it knew him, like it could consume him just as easily as he could consume it.

It took him only another second to realise what was happening. His eyes flew open, wild, crazed, pupils dilated so wide the violet of his irises was nearly lost to the black void of his hunger.

No.

His heart lurched in his chest as realisation slammed into him like a blade between his ribs. She had no idea what she had done. What she was doing.

With a snarl, he wrenched her wrist from his mouth and shoved her away with force, scrambling backward himself, putting as much distance between them as possible. His hands trembled as they dragged across his lips, wiping away the stray droplets of her blood before they could tempt him further.

His body was drenched in sweat and blood, but the pain was gone, as though her blood had been the antidote to her own poison, burning away the sickness in an instant, leaving behind only this—this unbearable, blinding sensation that made his skin hum, his nerves scream for more.

His shadows lashed out instinctively, wrapping around her wrist—not to hurt, but to stop the bleeding. But even they shuddered, curling around her skin like they relished the taste of her power, like they, too, wanted more.

His breath came in ragged bursts, his hands gripping the cold stone beneath him as he fought against the pull, the sheer, undeniable need still clawing at him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he gasped, his voice hoarse, his entire body shaking.

He forced himself further back, into the corner, head falling against the stone as he writhed against the high, the pleasure that still rippled through him in waves.

"Fuck."

It felt too good. So good his eyes rolled back, his throat working as he swallowed, as he fought to rid himself of the taste of her, but it was too late. It was in him now. Branded into his senses.

She was his new addiction.

His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms, an anchor against the storm raging inside him. His voice was a rasp, a desperate, dangerous command.

"Go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Lock the fucking door." His chest heaved as he pressed himself harder against the stone, muscles taut, his body vibrating with need.

A locked door would do absolutely nothing for her if he lost this battle.

But she needed to get away. Now.

 

[Sadie]

She knew she had made a mistake the moment his mouth sealed over her wrist, pulling her closer.

Heat lanced through her, scorching ever nerve and leaving a sharp, biting pleasure in its wake. She gasped quietly, fingers spasming against him as his grip locked around her wrist, trapping her and forcing her to remain in place. Forcing her into an unbearable, intoxicating moment.

It wasn't just pain or fear. There was something else, something deep and primal that curled in her stomach and threatened to consume her whole as a warmth spread from where his lips pressed up against her skin. It was slow, pulsing, shooting through her veins like a liquid fire. Her head tipped back and another gasp escaped her lips as the world spun around her. Unsteady. Unreal.

She could feel him. Not just his mouth, his teeth, the poison fighting in his system. She could feel his magic, his desperation, a devastating pull of his hunger- the raw, unfiltered need tearing through him as he took, and took, and took from her offered wrist. It was too much, too overwhelming. Terror mingled with pleasure, making her body betray her, making her limbs go limp and numb and-

No, no, no! Sadie tried to move and pull herself away, but his grip was unyielding. She dug her nails into her skin as she fought to stay awake, to stay grounded. She needed to keep from slipping into the euphoria that wrapped around her like silk and shadow.

Then, there was pain. Sharp and sudden. He shoved her away and she hit the ground hard. Her wrist screamed in agony, vision swimming as she scrambled backward and gasped for air, reeling from the loss of him. The loss of something she hadn't realized she was holding on to. Her head was spinning, skin burning where his shadows lingered, coiling around her wrist to stem the blood. But they didn't let go.

What the fuck are you doing?

Sadie's stomach twisted violently and, for a moment, she thought she might be sick. She pressed her wrist to her chest, trembling as she looked at him. The way sweat still glistened on his skin, how he pressed himself into the stone as if the distance could save either of them. His hand covered his mouth as if that could have stopped what had already been done. As if that could erase her from his senses. He was still fighting it, still fighting her. He wasn't going to die.

Go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Lock the fucking door.

The words pierced the air. She didn't wait. Despite the darkness that crept in the corners of her vision and the numbness in her limbs, she ran as fast as she could. Bare feet his the freezing stone as she sprinted down dimly lit halls. Her pulse had become a deafening roar in her ears. Her wings, of course, only seemed to try and make her even more off balance than she already was. She wasn't thinking. She couldn't think. Instead, she moved on instinct and the primal need to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

The first door she came across was one to a kitchen. She'd been there a month, but never stepped foot inside after she had refused food. Eventually she would find plates here and there for her. She picked at them, but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was eating anything while trapped in his confinement. Sadie shoved inside, scanning the back of the door frantically for a lock or a barricade. Anything. But the door had no key, no latch. There was no way to keep him out.

So she bolted, nearly tripping as she shoved her way back into the labyrinth of corridors. Another door, locked from the outside. She peered in the keyhole. It was a study.

The next room, she wasn't actually sure at all what it was. But it was too open, too exposed with multiple doors leading off into who the fuck knows where. Only one of them had a lock. Pointless.

His words echoed in her mind as she continued- lock the fucking door. But where? What door? Just as the thought she might break from the panic that tore at her lungs, she found something.

Sadie stumbled inside, breath hitching at the stark contrast to the rest of his estate.

Gone were the endless stretches of cold, dark stone whose chill seeped into her bones. Here, most of the walls were glass, from floor to ceiling where they met a dome of stained glass. Intricate designs of the stars and sun decorated the dome in shades of purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, and golds and cast a fractured array of warm light across the floor. The walls, unlike the dark and plain walls of the rest of the estate had been painted in a sprawling landscape with flowers and fields of wild plants frozen in time.

Beyond the windows, the sun was rising and casting a purple blanket over the reigning winter snow.

There was a fountain bubbling quietly in the center, the only sound that broke through the heavy silence.

It was quiet. It was warm. It was safe. She locked the door and her knees nearly buckled as she turned back to the room.

Sadie staggered forward, pressing a hand against one of the pillars of ivory. Live ivy twisted around the curved surface and seemed so foreign in the estate which seemed so...dead. Pushing forward, there were plush chairs in shades of red nestled near alcoves with thick blankets draped over them like a quiet invitation. And more appetizing than the prospect of a nap were the bookshelves that lined the room, filled with endless pages of stories she had never read. Some were in the common tongue, but it seemed there were many, many languages of books collected here.

Collapsing onto one of the chairs, she exhaled sharply. Here, she could breathe. For now.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai forced himself to wait. To breathe.

To ignore the taste of her still lingering on his tongue, curling at the edges of his mind like smoke, refusing to dissipate.

But the hunger roared inside him, wild and insatiable, thrumming through his veins with the same intoxicating power that had nearly unraveled him. The edges of his vision still swam with shadows, his body wracked with the high of her magic. Gods, it fucking burned, his own blood singing in response to what she had given him.

It was too much.

With a sharp inhale, he staggered to his feet, pushing through the weight of his own body until he made it outside. The cold slammed into him like a wave, stealing the heat from his flesh, sinking into his bones. He barely made it a few steps before he collapsed into the snow.

Shadows lashed out, wrapping around the nearest trees, securing him in place as he lay there, willing himself to feel nothing. The snow swallowed him, ice biting at his skin and seeping into his bones, cooling the fire in his veins, numbing the pleasure it brought him. The burn of his own need finally began to dull, forced into submission by the creeping frost.

For a long while, he lay there, staring up at the sky, his breath rising in thick plumes of mist. His fingers curled into the frozen earth, and slowly, slowly, his shadows loosened. His breathing steadied. The fire that had nearly consumed him faded to embers.

The control he had so carefully cultivated—the control that she had almost shattered—began to settle back into place.

He pushed himself upright, the motion sluggish, unsteady. Snow clung to his clothes, his hair, his lashes, melting his skin as he trudged back toward the estate, trailing water behind him. He was a mess, but for once, he didn’t care.

She was still here.

She had her chance.

She could have run. Could have left him in the snow to suffer alone.

Instead, she had brought him back here. And then, she had done the most unexpected thing he could possibly imagine.

His lips curled slightly—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown—as he followed the pull of her presence, the scent of her lingering blood, the steady thrum of her pulse.

She had locked herself away, hidden behind the door of his sunroom. His sanctuary, the only place in this house that still felt like it belonged to him. The irony was not lost on him.

He stood there, hand hovering near the wood, but he didn’t knock. Didn’t dare break whatever fragile safety she felt behind the door.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, turned, and pressed his back against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor. His head tipped back, resting against the wood.

And he slept.

 

[Sadie]

The estate had gone silent. The sunroom turned to a sanctuary, a world outside of the dark and icy corridors of Nikolai's estate. Either he wouldn't or he couldn't touch Sadie here. The sunrise poured through the domed stained glass ceiling, and sent gold and violet scattering across the polished floor. It was safe. Safe. She tried to remind herself, though it did little to calm her frayed nerves, the steady but rapid thrum of her pulse.

Sadie had blocked off the door with one of the large chairs, inadvertently tearing the wound on her wrist open again. The bleeding came, sluggish but steady. It was a reminder, as she barricaded herself into her kidnapper's home, that she had made a mistake by giving him her blood. It had angered him that she had saved his life. But she was certain she couldn't live with the guilt of killing anybody- good or evil.

Sadie had used the blanket from the couch-turned-barricade to stanch the bleeding. Its foreign warmth felt good against her freezing skin, but no matter how hard she clutched it, her tremoring would not stop.

Hours had passed, the high of whatever he had done to her finally dulled, leaving behind only an exhaustion so deep, she felt it in her bones. Sadie curled into one of the alcoves, tucking her bare feet beneath her and wrapping herself tight in the blanket. Her body fought to remind her of what she felt when he drank from her. Pleasure, terror. The way her soul recognized him in a way her mind refused to acknowledge.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against her knees, breathing in the clean scent of the blanket. The warmth of the sunroom made it easy to pretend, if only for a moment, that she was somewhere else entirely. She wasn't trapped. She wasn't alone in the middle of a frozen estate in an unfamiliar forest, trapped with a monster that nearly lost himself to her blood. For a moment, she was home. For a moment, she was in Eluin's office, breathing in the scent of old parchment and staining her fingers with ink as she took on what everyone else had considered the most boring task.

For the first time in over a month, she wasn't running. She wasn't fighting. She wasn't clawing at any opportunity to escape or searching for impossible methods to out think Nikolai.

Looking up, she stared at the landscapes painted on the walls. Sprawling things full of flowers in full bloom. They were places she'd never been, places she wasn't sure even existed. But they were places she now, suddenly, longed for. Places she wanted to loser herself in and never look back.

She shifted, flinching at the pain in her wrist. The bleeding had slowed. Maybe it would stop soon. She hoped so, because there couldn't have been much left in her body to spare. Her body ached, eyelids growing heavier with every second she spent under the warmth of the morning sun. Her mind warned her to stay awake, but the whispers of the fountain and the warmth of the room sunk deep into her, lulling her closer to the edge of sleep.

She wanted to fight it, she really did. She had spent a month fighting it. A month of fear, waiting for the next attempt to escape. Waiting for the impossible game Nikolai wanted to play with her to come to an end- her end. She had spent a month surviving and she wasn't entirely sure what to do now that she had stopped running.

Maybe, just for a little while... She jolted upright. No, no. She couldn't.

But her fingers loosened their iron grip on the blankets, her breaths slowed.

And for the first time since she woke in this prison, she let herself sleep.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai drifted between sleep and wakefulness, his body leaden with exhaustion, the last remnants of hunger still simmering beneath his skin. The cold stone beneathe him and the door at his back should have been uncomfortable, but he didn’t move. His body had demanded rest, yet his mind hovered in that hazy space between dreams and reality, where thought and memory bled together into something indistinct.

For the first time in years, he had slept. Not the shallow, restless half-sleep of a predator always on edge, but something deeper. Something real. And now, the world was pulling him back, dragging him toward consciousness with a steady, rhythmic sound—soft and even, a pulse in the quiet. A heartbeat.

Her heartbeat.

His eyes opened, the dim glow of the moons casting shifting patterns of blues and violets throughout the estate. Shadows pooled around him in sluggish tendrils, neither reaching nor retreating, simply existing. He listened, unmoving, to the quiet rise and fall of her breath on the other side of the door. The house had settled into silence, thick and undisturbed, yet her presence filled every corner of it, lingering in the very walls of his sanctuary.

She hadn’t run.

She could have. She should have.

Instead, she had locked herself away here, choosing this room—his room—where the sun touched every surface and the painted wildflowers stretched toward endless fields. He could almost picture her curled into one of the chairs, lost in the warmth. He should have been pleased. That was the point, wasn’t it? To break her, to strip her down to the rawest version of herself and mold her into something dangerous. Something his. But this… this silence, this unfamiliar stillness between them, left something hollow in its wake.

He had grown used to her defiance, the way she clawed at every opportunity for freedom even when she had none. The way she challenged him. For a month, he had watched her fight tooth and nail, refusing to bend, refusing to break. And now, for the first time since he had taken her, she had stopped running.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He lifted a hand without thinking, pressing his palm lightly to the wood between them, feeling the lingering warmth on the other side. He didn’t push. Didn’t try to open it. Just felt.

She had bled for him. She had, for whatever reason, wanted to save him. His body was stiff, the ache of lingering wounds nothing but a memory now, healed by the very thing he should not have tasted. He flexed his fingers, curling them into his palms before dragging them down his face with a slow exhale.

And now, she was asleep, tucked away in his sanctuary as if she belonged there. The thought sent a cold spike of irritation through his chest. She didn’t belong. She shouldn’t belong.

And yet, he refused to disturb her. Instead, he remained where he was, back pressed against the door, listening to the steady sound of her breath as it filled the silence. He would wait.