Elana felt her heartbeat quicken as cold, smooth palms traced the edges of her thighs, his breath teasing the space between them.
She bit her lower lip, fingers tightening lightly around the sheets as she anticipated the warmth of his mouth.
It felt like she had been waiting forever for him to touch her, to pull her under the control she both feared and longed for.
"Azael," she whispered, breath trembling as his cold exhale skimmed closer to the aching center of her desire. "Please."
Her awareness snapped back as her dream neared reality, dissolving the rush Azael had stirred within her.
She released the sheets and sat up, her back pressed against the headboard.
Outside, the steady song of insects told her it was still night.
She had managed to sleep earlier without thinking of him.
Zane's offer to escape had distracted her enough, given her time to think of an answer until their next meeting.
If she left, would Azael come after her? And if he did, would that mean danger for Zane and the others?
Zane was right—she was a slave.
Not only to Azael's power but to his desire and to the pull of his manipulation.
Yet beneath that weakness, something steadier surged: she deserved freedom even if her body longed to surrender it for him.
She could not let him claim her completely just because he offered protection.
If she had to choose, she would choose freedom over surrendering to the chains of desire.
**
Zane opened his eyes. It was morning already. He noticed Caesar's empty bed.
He would have stayed longer in Sirence to avoid trouble, the plan couldn't wait.
He hadn't known Caesar cared enough to risk anything.
Still, Zane was grateful for his sudden alliance.
The door creaked, drawing Zane's eyes as Caesar strolled in with casual nonchalance.
"Good to see you're up, buddy," Ceasar said, dropping onto his bed.
Zane narrowed his eyes. Where had he gone? And why was he keeping half the plan to himself? Trusting scraps of information was unsettling.
"I need to hear the full plan," Zane said. "How are you suddenly so confident we can escape?"
Caesar exhaled, shoulders sinking. "I just want to help the poor girl out. I met a friend willing to assist. Once she agrees, we move."
"It's dangerous," Zane continued. "Trusting anyone here is. Those bastards won't hesitate to kill us if they find out."
"Then sit back and let me handle it," Caesar said coldly. "A soldier shouldn't panic the way you do."
Zane's fists clenched.
He'd endured enough quiet insults just for exercising caution.
He had been the only one to question Azael's choices made for them because of Elana, and now even Caesar mocked him for it.
In two quick strides, Zane crossed the room and seized Ceasar by the shirt collar, meeting his tired, teasing gaze. Caesar's smirk only widened.
"Don't you dare imply that I'm a coward," Zane growled, tightening his grip.
"If you weren't," Ceasar said, voice low and taunting, "a certain vampire wouldn't move you around like a pawn—all because of a woman wrapped around his fingers."
Zane's fury rose. He landed a punch on Caesar's face, before stepping back to his bed, muscles taut, ready in case Caesar retaliated.
"It's good you're angry," Ceasar muttered, flexing his jaw as the sting faded. "Anger might make you do something about being human and helpless."
Zane shot him a warning glare.
"I'm not interested in sparring with these monsters. I only want to help Elana escape and live freely."
Caesar laughed softly, the sound threaded with mockery.
"Sure. But that's not the only reason, and we both know it."
Zane ignored the jab.
"Doesn't matter. What's wrong is wrong. The sooner we're gone, the better. "
"I don't trust Cara," Ceasar said abruptly, making Zane pause. "Eventually we'll have to get rid of her."
Zane was caught off guard, but Caesar looked anything but remorseful.
"She refused the plan?" Zane asked.
Caesar scoffed. "You really missed the pattern, huh? Even when she bent over backwards for Azael's favor."
"She was being careful," Zane argued reflexively.
Caesar lay back, eyes on the stone ceiling. "Cara knew about the King's alignment with the enemy long before we found out."
Zane's heart skipped. "How do you….?"
"Fondness loosens tongues," Caesar continued, "The king was more than fond of Cara. Even while we were together."
Zane swallowed, unsettled.
Caesar was making a serious allegation. He had never once suspected Cara of that.
But as the King's second-in-command, she had always been closest to him—in battle and beyond it.
"Not poisoning your mind," Caesar added. "Just showing you that even those with power crave more power and want to be near it."
Zane weighed the information, a slow betrayal settling under his ribs. He had thought of Cara as a friend.
"And I guarantee," Caesar said, voice flattening, "given the chance, Cara will go back to the king—even if it means selling us out."
**
Azael opened his eyes to the faint, unmistakable rhythm of marching outside his castle.
It could no longer be ignored.
He lifted the coffin lid, inhaling the lingering incense before stepping out, irritation sharpening his movements.
He strode naked into his chamber and toward the window, muttering curses.
He would have to raise the cast over his territory himself; the ghost mediator was still missing for now.
He would also need to send his bats to scout Lumere and Fen's territory. Just in case.
It was morning, the sun high in the sky. Without the cast, his territory could not stay grey.
The sunlight was too bright to cast sufficient shadows, making it impossible to hide his bats.
Azael's gaze fell on the silk sheets carefully laid over his bed.
The image of Elana's red hair spread across them, her gentle hands tugging at his hair, more pulling than pushing, as pleasure overwhelmed her.
The urge to go to Sirence, to satisfy the hunger and desire she awakened, flared within him.
Then his eyes caught movement around the castle—not clumsy, deliberate.
A male human in Lumere uniform lay prone, rifle aimed at his castle. Azael's eyes shifted, spotting another a few feet from the first.
His suspicion deepened as he activated his monochrome vision.
At least a hundred men surrounded his castle, all in the same position as the first two he had seen.
The marching drew closer, still outside the range of his supernatural sight.
Azael smirked. Lumere wanted a war?
Their king would make a fine addition to one of his minions.
Did these foolish humans really think they could ambush him and claim victory?
What insolence—to trespass on his lands and incite war against him.
His rage grew, but a tiny realization struck him: there was purpose behind it.
Perhaps curiosity had led them here.
Their choice of when to attack told him otherwise.
He was almost certain—they mistook the sun for a weakness.
He donned his robe and appeared at the shadowed front of the fortress.
His monochrome sight caught the first legion of soldiers approaching with rifles raised.
He scoffed at their confidence but waited—observing two more legions advance from the sides, flanking the first.