Page 39 of A Touch of Darkness

Her lips curl into a cold smile. “You presume to know what I would do? That I would betray the sacred bond between us? You think me as weak and selfish as you?”

“I betrayed nothing!” His voice cracks, desperate. “You cannot see the truth of it because you’ve always blinded yourself with ambition!”

“Ambition?” Her tone sharpens, venomous, like a snake in the night. “You speak of ambition, yet it is you who chose power over honor, over love, over me—over our child.”

Lucian falters, his shoulders sagging as though her words have struck him like a blade. “I did it to survive,” he says, quieter now. “To protect us both. You don’t know what they threatened me with—what they would have done had I refused.”

Her eyes narrow, glowing faintly with a dangerous light, the moon reflecting in her orbs. “You dare invoke protection as your justification? When it is you who has brought ruin upon us?” She takes a step closer, her voice rising. “You shatteredeverything. My trust, my heart, the very foundation of all we built together.”

Lucian drops to his knees, his head bowed. “I regret it,” he whispers. “Gods, Sera, I regret it more than you could know. But I am no match for you. Do what you must.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, something like sorrow flickers in her gaze. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “You speak as though this absolves you,” she says, her voice trembling. “It does not. Nothing will. I’ve already done what was needed, but if I must, I can carry on.”

The wind picks up, and the air around her hums with power. Ancient words spill from her lips, low and resonant, as the ground trembles beneath them as I stand by, here but not.

“By the blood you have spilled, by the trust you have broken, by the love you have forsaken?—”

Lucian’s head snaps up, panic flaring in his eyes. “Seraphina, no! I cannot continue on like this! I’ve only a small taste of it and I know I’ll never survive it!”

But her voice rises, carrying the load of an unyielding enemy. “Eternal night shall be your prison. Eternal hunger shall be your chains. Eternal solitude…” Her voice breaks, but she does not falter. “Shall be your punishment.”

The moon darkens as clouds spiral across the sky, the clearing bathed in shadow. The wind howls, tearing through the trees, and Lucian’s screams pierce the night as he clutches his chest.

I feel it—Seraphina’s magic ripping through him, shredding his humanity and replacing it with something dark and monstrous. His veins turn black, his body contorting in agony as if he’s being unmade and remade all at once. As if she’s creating and re-creating him to suit her.

Seraphina watches, her face a mask of cold resolve, though her hands tremble ever so slightly.

“I loved you, Lucian,” she whispers, so quietly I almost don’t hear it. I swear I see a lone tear roll slowly down her cheek. “But love cannot undo betrayal.”

Lucian collapses to the ground, his body still, the clearing eerily silent. For a moment, he doesn’t move.

And then his eyes snap open.

And what I see is danger personified.

They gleam with a predatory hunger that sends a chill down my spine. Slowly, he rises, his movements deliberate, almost inhuman and vastly different than who he is today.

Seraphina takes a step back, her expression unreadable. “It is now done,” she murmurs.

Lucian stares at her, and for a fleeting moment, I see the man he once was—the man who loved her. But it vanishes, replaced by a cold, empty smile.

The morning light filtering through the hefty curtains in my study is muted, the way I strongly prefer it. It’s been many years since sunlight posed a threat, but old habits die hard. Or perhaps it’s the weight of last night that presses on me more than the pull of daylight.

Sylvie.

I’ve met countless humans over my nearly two centuries, in passing and students, but none have unsettled me the way she does. Although, I suppose human isn’t the best word for her. Especially now that she knows what she is and she’s coming into her abilities.

I’ve seen her before, held her before,lovedher before—in another lifetime—but this iteration of her—naive, determined, and wholly unprepared for the darkness she’s walking into—cuts deeper than I care to admit. Last night…

I grip the edge of my desk, steadying myself as the memory resurfaces. She had no business being in my home, no right tointrude where she didn’t belong—we agreed on her coming in the morning. She’s defiant. She’s seeking answers, and I suppose I cannot blame her. In fact, I am somewhat pleased I now know how she reacts to me—much in the same way that I react to her.

How I’ve always reacted to her, even to her memory while apart.

There she was, standing at the threshold of my library, watching with wide, innocent, dark eyes as I indulged in a moment of much-needed primal release with an old friend. The scent of her needy arousal hit me like a drug—heady and sweet, so fucking sweet, tangling with the lingering taste of Vivienne’s blood still on my tongue. It took every shred of control not to pull Sylvie into the fray, to claim her in ways that would damn us both. To finally claim what has been mine for centuries, though she has no idea of it.

To have my feral, animalistic, naturalistic way with her.

But I couldn’t.

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