Alaric's POV
Although my eyes were shut, I wasn't sleeping. My senses remained sharp, attuned to every detail—the gentle rise and fall of Enzo's chest, the faint hitch in his breath when he dreamt, the warmth of his body radiating against mine. His presence was a comfort, yet an enigma. Was I here because he truly wanted me, or was I simply an escape, a fleeting solace from whatever storm raged inside him? The thought gnawed at me, persistent and unrelenting, like a whisper in the dark that refused to be silenced.
Enzo stirred slightly, his body shifting closer, as if seeking something even in sleep. Instinctively, my hand found its way into his tousled hair, fingers gliding through the strands in a slow, soothing motion. A faint murmur escaped his lips—soft, unintelligible words lost to the night. The sound tugged at something deep within me, an unfamiliar ache I wasn't ready to name. I chuckled softly, shaking my head. He had no idea how much power he held over me, how easily he could unravel me with a simple touch. A mere human wrapped in the embrace of a creature far beyond his understanding, and yet, somehow, I was the one who felt vulnerable.
I stayed longer than I should have, listening to the quiet symphony of his breathing, memorizing the way he felt beside me. But as much as I wanted to remain in this fragile moment, reality would not allow it.
Before the sun could kiss the horizon, I slipped away, moving with practiced ease. Staying risked exposure. If he removed the blindfold and saw me—truly saw me—would he still reach for me? Would his hands still seek mine in the dark? Or would he recoil, the illusion shattered? I wasn't ready to find out. Not yet.
I lingered for a moment, watching him from the shadows, committing the sight to memory. But I couldn't stay and watch him from afar either—not today. The day had its demands, and there were matters requiring my attention, matters involving the vampires under my command.
By the time I returned to my domain, the air had shifted, thick with an unspoken urgency. The moment I stepped through the grand archway, one of my subordinates approached, his gait brisk, his expression tense. Trouble awaited me, as it always did.
And just like that, the brief illusion of peace was gone.
"My Lord, we've caught some men lurking around our territory. They are human," he reported, bowing slightly.
Humans, trespassing on vampire land? Either they were foolish, or they had a death wish.
"Take me to them," I ordered, my hands clasped behind my back as I followed him to the dungeon.
The air was thick with dampness, the scent of blood and fear mingling in the dimly lit chamber. The men were shackled to the stone walls, their eyes darting wildly as I stepped into view. One of them, braver or perhaps more reckless than the others, spat his words at me.
"What do you want from us, you blood-sucking demons?"
I arched a brow, amused by his audacity. So, they knew what we were, yet they still wandered into our domain? Humans could be incredibly foolish—except for my little human. Enzo was different. He was the purest, most reasonable human I had ever encountered.
"What should we do with them, my Lord? Suck them dry? They must be delicious," Philip, the vampire who had led me here, said, licking his lips hungrily.
I turned to him, my expression cold. "Control yourself, Philip. You know the rules. We do not drink from humans unless they willingly offer themselves to us."
"But they entered our property without permission. Doesn't that count as consent? If we let them go, they will run to their kind and expose us. What should we do then?" he pressed.
"You know that isn't what will happen. Lock them up. They won't be leaving this place ever again," I declared, turning away from the prisoners.
Philip's voice cut through the silence. "What is wrong with you, my Lord? You are growing soft. This isn't the ruthless man I once knew. The old you would have ripped their heads off without hesitation."
In the blink of an eye, I had him pinned against the stone wall, my fingers pressing against his throat. His eyes widened in fear.
"Do you need a reminder of who I am, Philip? Because I can show you exactly how ruthless I can be." My voice was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a storm.
He swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling. "I—I'm sorry, my Lord. I spoke out of turn. It won't happen again."
I released him, letting him drop to his knees as I walked away. Let him reflect on his mistake. If he dared question me again, the consequences would be far graver.
Returning to my chambers, I yanked open my blood bank, pulling out two bags. Tearing into them, I drank deeply, the rich, metallic taste coating my tongue. Was I truly growing soft? Could my people see it? If Philip had the audacity to question me, would others follow?
I couldn't afford doubt among my ranks. I had to remind them of who I was.
With renewed resolve, I strode back to the dungeon. The prisoners looked up, hope flickering in their eyes—hope I was about to extinguish.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, my voice like ice.
One of them sneered. "Why do you want to know? So you can hunt him down and drink his blood?"
I tilted my head, a cruel smile curling my lips. Without another word, I moved faster than their eyes could track. By the time the others processed what had happened, their comrade's head lay at my feet, his blood splattered across my clothes. The scent was intoxicating.
Silence filled the chamber, thick and heavy.
Gathering the severed head, I carried it back to Philip. I threw it at his feet, watching as his face drained of all color.
"I hope this serves as a lesson," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I am not soft. I will never be weak."
With that, I turned and walked away, leaving them to tremble in the wake of my wrath.