My head pounded like a war drum as I blinked open my eyes. The ceiling, impossibly high, was a blur. Disoriented, I sat up, confusion swirling.
I was in a vast bed, my neck encircled by a silver collar. Panic surged as I realized I was naked, my legs restrained by silver chains. Across from me, a man sat in a chair, his gaze unwavering, assessing. He was the most breathtakingly handsome immortal I’d ever seen, and his presence alone was enough to make my skin prickle with unease.
“Who are you?” I demanded, anger crackling in my voice.
“Who are you?” he countered, his voice a low rumble.
“I asked first!” I snapped.
“Very well,” he drawled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I am Chaos.”
Chaos? The name sent a jolt through me. Where had I heard it? Chaos… the Vampire King…
“You’re the Vampire King?” I exclaimed. He couldn’t be older than thirty, yet he was said to be one of the oldest demons in existence, perhaps even older than the Queen of Wolves. Could he be lying?
“Indeed,” he confirmed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Glad you recognize me.”
“I’m Aroa,” I replied, “a wolf.”
“A pack wolf?” he inquired.
“No… I’m a rogue,” I answered, wary. I couldn’t reveal too much until I understood his intentions.
He seemed to relax at my response. “Two days ago, my men found you unconscious and bleeding in the forest.”
Two days… The memories flooded back—Veltra’s request, the blow to my head… I’d been betrayed. Again.
“You saved me,” I acknowledged, a flicker of gratitude warming me.
He didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on me, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my skin prickle. I felt an odd mixture of irritation and attraction as he seemed to claim me with just one look.
“Why am I chained and naked?” I demanded.
“To ensure you weren’t a threat,” he explained. “We needed to be certain.”
“I understand,” I said, “but I’m not a danger to you or your people.”
“I can see that now,” he agreed, his eyes sweeping over me.
“Then release me,” I urged.
He remained seated, his gaze unwavering.
“I said, release me!” I insisted.
“You’ll stay here,” he declared.
“No! I need to go home.” I didn’t know why, but his words sent a strange tremor through me.
“You’re a rogue,” he reminded me.
“I was living with friends… other rogues,” I stammered.
He studied me intently. “You’re staying.”
“Why?” I demanded. I’d proven I wasn’t a threat. What more did he want?
“Because you’re mine,” he declared, his voice laced with a possessive undercurrent.
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, standing and moving closer, “that you belong to me now.”
His presence was overwhelming, his proximity sending a shiver down my spine. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the silver collar around my neck. The touch was light, almost tender, but it carried a weight that made my breath hitch.
“You’re not a prisoner,” he said, his voice softening. “But you’re not free to leave. Not yet.”
“Why?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“Because,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, “there’s something about you, Aroa. Something I can’t ignore.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I wanted to argue, to demand my freedom, but something in his gaze held me captive. There was a raw honesty in his eyes, a vulnerability that contradicted his imposing presence.
“You’ll stay,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And in time, you’ll understand why.”
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