He should not be here. Surely, he hadn't become so proficient at killing that he could take care of a score of vampires in their prime? It was dusk, after all—the night giving them the clear advantage. Yet, I could distinctly feel the presence of his magic nearby.

My thoughts were a tangled mess, but I needed to straighten out my feelings toward Zaydon Icarus. I hated him. Nothing he did could ever make up for his past actions. Yet, my heart called me a liar.

The venomous bite from the vampire at my neck had already started its cruel work, spreading a cold numbness from my shoulders down through my body. My muscles felt heavy and unresponsive, as if they were sinking into the ground. I had been careless, allowing my guard to slip in the midst of the chaos, and it had cost me dearly.

The leader of the vampire pack that Zaydon had just dispatched had taken advantage of my momentary lapse, sinking his fangs into my flesh with a chilling precision.

"Damn you, Prince Darrin," I cursed silently, my mind seething with anger and frustration.

The bite wasn’t just a deadly wound that drenched me in my own blood—it was a dark promise of transformation and ownership. The coward had fled immediately after, sensing Zaydon’s imminent approach and choosing self-preservation over any further confrontation. The retreat was a testament to his fear, leaving me to face the aftermath of his venom alone.

Clearly, the bastard had deluded himself into thinking that his little army could handle Zaydon alone. The terror that had contorted his face as he fled spoke volumes about his true character. It was a stark revelation of the kind of king he would have been—one who relied on deceit and the strength of others while crumbling under the weight of his own cowardice.

His escape wasn’t just a retreat; it was a testament to his failure and a glaring reminder of his unworthiness to rule, let alone claim me as his bride. Yet, despite his cowardice, it didn’t change the fact that he had left me tainted and no worthy man would take me now.

My will to fight Zaydon—to keep him from witnessing my current state—had dwindled to a mere twitch of my fingers. I hated the thought of him seeing me like this. Damn it, I felt utterly pathetic.

My vision swam, distorted by the blood trickling from a gash on my head, leaving only the shadow of his imposing 6'8" frame growing larger as he loomed closer.

"Move!" I shouted at my body, my voice raw and trembling with rage. My body, betraying me, refused to respond. It lay on the ground, useless and twisted by the rubble beneath me.

The vampires had been cunning. They had blown up the small cottage where we had been hiding for the past week to gather supplies for our journey. The explosion had left us disoriented and unprepared for the attack, throwing us into chaos and making us vulnerable.

We must have been betrayed by someone. Given that Zaydon and I couldn't be too far apart due to his dragon bond with me, we had to undertake any long-distance journey together. This time, we needed to discreetly enter the Kingdom of Rola to negotiate with Prince Samuel Roylan, the eldest prince. As the rightful heir, Prince Samuel's position had been usurped by a tyrant who had murdered the royal family and Seria Roylan, his wife.

Since my father couldn't be seen negotiating in such a politically precarious situation, I had to go in his stead. If Prince Samuel succeeded, our kingdoms would continue their long-standing agreement involving lytdust—a magical dust used to illuminate our realms, which could only be mined in Rola. In return, we provided rare magic-absorbing metals essential for weaponry and military aid, thanks to the strength of Irisia's army, bolstered by Zaydon's expert guidance and effort.  Now, our plans had been compromised, and our travel route had been leaked.

I heard the crunch of debris beneath Zaydon's combat boots, each step reverberating through the wreckage of the demolished cottage. The faint glimmer of light that had been barely perceptible against the encroaching darkness was swallowed by his imposing shadow. His presence loomed over me, a stark contrast to the fragile remnants of daylight that had once offered a semblance of hope. The oppressive weight of his shadow was like a shroud, intensifying my sense of helplessness. The sound of his approach was a brutal reminder of the gravity of the situation, pulling my disoriented thoughts back to the immediate peril I faced.

Without a hint of hesitation, he grasped my wide shoulders with his large, strong hands, lifting me against the remains of the bedroom wall as if I weighed nothing. And I was no small woman. His touch was eerily smooth and mechanical, as though he were manoeuvring a lifeless puppet rather than a person in agony.

I couldn't see him clearly through the haze of my blurred vision, but the image of him was indelibly etched into my mind. No matter what form he took, Zaydon exuded a menacing aura, as if he were a demon incarnate. His medium-length hair, tousled and wild, framed his face with a sharp taper fade on the sides and back, contrasting with the unruly length on top. His tanned skin and pointed, elf-like ears, adorned with multiple piercings, stood out starkly against the darkness of his hair.

His top lip was thin and bow-shaped, while the bottom was fuller, giving his expressions an intense, striking quality. Even in his human form, his sharp upper and lower canines were noticeable, hinting at a more feral nature. In his demi-form, those canines extended further, enhancing his already imposing presence with a primal edge.

With a gloved hand, he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His breath was warm and almost scalding against my face, and his irritated sigh cut through the silence like a blade. He used a cloth to wipe the blood from my eyes, the gentleness of his touch clashing sharply with the violence of his presence.

As my vision cleared, his eyes came into focus—unnaturally glowing, siren-like red eyes that seemed to consume everything in their path. They burned with a ferocity that was almost otherworldly, their intensity hotter than a funeral pyre. When his eyes were this red, it was as if his Dragon self was in full control.

"Can you see better now, sweetheart?" His voice was a dark, seductive purr, the term "sweetheart" dripping with mockery rather than affection.

The pet name was a bitter twist of irony. I had seen him command the minds of weaker beings, his voice resonating with a power that could make souls tremble. This name was not a term of endearment - he knew it would inflame my temper, and that was precisely why he used it.

In my weakened state, the only form of rebellion I could muster was a defiant act of disrespect. Gathering what little strength I had, I spat directly into his face. He was well aware of my aversion to his familiar touch.

He chuckled darkly, a cruel amusement dancing in his eyes, and used a blood-soaked handkerchief to wipe away the spittle that had trickled down his cheek. His movements were swift and deliberate as he shifted his grip from my chin to my throat, drawing his face inches from mine.

The wound at my throat likely bled more freely now, but fortunately, the venom coursing through my body dulled the sharp sting—an ironic silver lining in this dire situation.

His pupils, now narrow and almost reptilian, contrasted starkly with the warmth of his breath. His forked tongue flickered out, revealing its predatory nature. His lips, once soft and inviting, now twisted into a cruel smirk. He seemed indifferent to my discomfort, focusing solely on the power he wielded over me. My life hung precariously in the balance, and he seemed to relished every second of it.

He was unpredictable in this state, every primal urge driving him with a dangerous intensity. While it made him stronger and sharper, it also rendered him deadly to anyone he perceived as an enemy.

In this moment, I was oddly grateful for the paralysis, as it kept me from shivering under the weight of his murderous gaze.

Strangely, I suspected the shiver that would have come if I hadn’t been paralyzed right now was not just from fear but also from an unsettling place of desire, further complicating my emotions. My heart was perpetually caught in a perilous dance with him—oscillating between love and hate as if we were performing a partnered Flamenco.

It was easy to despise him, but whenever he showed a hint of gentleness, that hatred crumbled far too quickly.

A rogue strand of Zaydon's blue-black hair fell across his right eye as he took a deep, measured breath. The delicate balance of his breath seemed to still the air around us, sharpening his already formidable senses. I knew what he was doing—his heightened senses were meticulously assessing the extent of my injuries and the source of my paralysis. The intense scrutiny was almost palpable, an invisible force pressing down on me.

Every breath he took, every subtle shift in his posture, revealed his focus on my condition. I wanted to hide my pain from him, to shield what remained of my dignity. But it was futile. His dragon-like abilities granted him an uncanny perception—he could see beyond my physical state, smell the iron of my blood and with it the venom that laced it. It was as if he could unravel the very essence of my suffering with each inhalation, making my attempts at concealment pointless.

His gaze, unblinking and intense, seemed to pierce through the veil of my paralysis. Each tiny movement of his eyes, each twitch of his lips, betrayed the depths of his awareness. The knowledge that he could read me so completely, laying bare the pain I tried so hard to mask, made my situation feel even more hopeless.

"Zaydon, leave me alone, you bastard flying gecko!" I snarled, willing every ounce of hatred into my gaze as he continued his assessment. A stray strand of my maroon red hair fell into my face and mouth, removing any seriousness behind my words as I struggled to move it away.

He ignored my insult and straddled my lap. With a steady hand, he gently tucked the stray hair behind my ear.

The flush on my face as a result of his actions made me panic. I wanted his harshness, the distance he often gave me. Not this. This was more dangerous than a blade pressed to my chest. Unable to do anything, I tried to hold back the frustrated tears threatening to burst from my eyes.

Even in my paralyzed state, the memory of his muscular body pressed against mine was vivid. With him, it was as if my mind didn't need my body to tell it how he felt or looked.

Looking down at his wide frame, with its slightly narrow hips and thick legs pressing against mine, was a physical reminder of his raw strength. The scent of smoky vampire blood mingled with his musky, almost exotic aroma.

The blush that already colored my cheeks deepened as I felt his forked tongue slide over the gash on my forehead. His saliva, imbued with healing properties, began to knit the wound together, easing the sting.

Before I could protest, he moved with unnerving speed, positioning himself so that his nose and lips hovered inches from my neck. His movements were as precise as they were fluid; he pressed his hand against the wall behind me, anchoring himself. My head rested against his thick forearm, exposing the side of my neck to him.

He found the source of my condition and, from the sound of his carefully controlled breathing, it was clear he was far from pleased.

"That little leech got you good, didn’t he, my poor little sweetheart?" he whispered, his breath warm and unsettling against my skin. "I've failed you yet again." His voice, shifting between mockery, now carried an edge of frustration and regret, a rare glimpse of vulnerability piercing through his usual facade.

The heat of his breath on my neck was almost unbearable, mingling with the chill that seeped into my bones from the venom. The pain in my throat was a distant echo, dulled by the numbness that had taken hold of me.

My heart pounded with a mix of fear and despair, each beat a reminder of my helplessness. My vision swayed in and out of focus as I lay there, immobile and exposed, the wreckage of the destroyed cottage surrounding us like a twisted, broken cocoon.

I waited for the venom to take its next course, my gums already tingling as my teeth began to grow and sharpen unnaturally. The sensation was terrifyingly alien, and I knew it was only the beginning.

My internal shudder was nearly unbearable, even though my body remained still. I didn’t want to become a vampire. The thought of that transformation—of losing control and becoming something I despised—was horrifying. It was as if a dark shadow loomed over my soul, threatening to consume me entirely. The fear gnawed at my insides, making it hard to think clearly. Even now, my thoughts were tangled with dread, the terror of what I was about to become clouding everything else.

I couldn’t stand the silence between us. The stillness gave my mind too much room to spiral into despair. It was almost laughable that the all-powerful Zaydon was now powerless to fix what had been done. This might tarnish his reputation if I died, but ultimately, he would be free of me. I had made sure the last seven years since he took the Dragon’s Bond had been nothing short of hell for him.

“Come to make sure I die so you’ll be free?” I managed to joke bitterly, though my voice was barely more than a strained whisper.

I could practically feel his frown against my neck, a subtle shift in his presence that betrayed his irritation.

“You forget that I underwent the Dragon’s Bond willingly,” he retorted, his tone carrying a sharp edge that cut through the silence.

The sting of his words still cut deep, even after all these years. “Trust me, Zaydon. Nothing could make me forget.” My heart clenched as if I were hearing it for the first time all over again, the pain of that night still as fresh as ever.

Zaydon’s presence, usually so fierce and intimidating, seemed to soften for a fleeting moment. As he leaned closer, his lips brushed against my ear, his breath warm and unsettling, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

 “Let me save you from this fate,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing in my ear. “I’ll take in the poison and prevent you from turning into a vampire, but it’s risky. I would need to drink from you as he did, taking more than is safe.”