In the garden,
they stopped near a fountain. Marie leaned forward, catching her breath. Her hair had loosened, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted as she tried to steady herself. Lorenzo stared. Captivated.
*A muse. A goddess.* Desire stirred hot and insistent.
"I read the book," Marie said, catching her breath, "because I wanted to know more about you, Lorenzo. Your world. Your traditions. I want to be part of it."
Lorenzo smiled. Gestured to a bench. Marie sat, and Lorenzo drew her close, closer than propriety allowed.
"What do you want to know?" Marie's blush deepened. "Is it true... that the first night between husband and wife is not open to the public?"
Lorenzo intertwined their fingers. "For royals, yes. They can choose privacy. I believe intimacy is sacred between husband and wife."
Marie bit her lip, emboldened now. "And... is it true that a future husband must prove himself with the bride's servants?"
Lorenzo leaned in, close enough that her breath brushed Marie's skin.
"It's true," she murmured. "He may take as many as he wishes."
Marie struck her lightly in the ribs, laughter breaking the tension between them. Lorenzo smiled.
"If you were the bride, I would refuse the custom." Marie tilted her head.
Marie tilted her head arching her fine eyebrow: "Then what would you ask instead?"
Lorenzo lifted her chin, their faces inches apart. "I'd ask only for my prenuptial right." "And what is that?" Lorenzo cupped her face, their lips nearly touching. "It's the same, Marie. I'm only not allowed to break into you and make you bleed. Anything else would be permitted."
Their lips met. Feverish. Urgent. Lorenzo's hands found Marie's waist, pulling her onto her lap.
Her fingers slipped under Marie's dress, trailing up the soft skin of her thighs. Marie moaned, clutching Lorenzo's shoulders, nails digging in through fabric.
She was like a famished kitten. Lorenzo's mouth moved from Marie's lips to her throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin. Marie arched into the touch, gasping. Her body was so responsive, every nerve alight with sensation she'd never experienced.
Lorenzo's hand cupped Marie's breast through her dress, thumb brushing over the hardened peak. Marie whimpered, pressing into the touch shamelessly.
"Lorenzo,"she breathed, voice breaking. The kiss deepened. Lorenzo's tongue explored Marie's mouth with claiming thoroughness while her hands mapped the curves hidden beneath layers of silk and linen.
Marie rocked against Lorenzo's lap, instinct guiding her movements.
They broke apart, both panting.
Marie's pupils were blown wide, lips swollen and glistening. She looked utterly debauched and utterly beautiful. "I..." She struggled for words, breath coming fast. "I am inexperienced in such acts. I have never lain with a man. I... I wish to give you your prenuptial right but... be gentle with me."
Lorenzo didn't answer immediately.
"Marie," she said quietly, her name tasting unfamiliar and dangerous on her tongue, "you should not offer yourself so lightly. Especially to someone like me."
Marie's fingers tightened in Lorenzo's coat. "Someone like you is exactly what I crave."
Control had always been Lorenzo's virtue. How she survived. How she ruled. How she kept her curse at bay. Lorenzo's hand moved before she sanctioned it. Just an inch. Just enough to feel the curve of Marie's waist deepen beneath her palm.
*Stop,* Lorenzo told herself.
Her body didn't listen. There was a pressure building where it shouldn't, and it shocked her how quickly it rose. How instinctively her lips went for Marie's neck
And right then, something shifted.
She felt an urge to bite.
To sink teeth into soft flesh.
At that instant her teeth broke skin
Marie gasped softly, more in surprise than fear, and that sound was what undid her.
Blood touched Lorenzo's tongue.
Just a trace.
Enough.
The world narrowed violently. The garden, the fountain, the night air—all fell away beneath a single, roaring awareness. Her pulse thundered in Lorenzo's ears. Her scent sharpened. Her warmth became unbearable.
She stilled.
Completely.
Marie felt the change at once.
"Lorenzo?" she whispered, searching his face.
Lorenzo pulled back as if struck, horror flooding her features. She raised her hand to her mouth, staring at the faint smear of red on her fingers.
"I "Her voice broke. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean"
"It's all right," Marie said quickly, reaching for her. "It's just a little blood. I'm fine. Truly."
Lorenzo shook her head, breath uneven, fighting something feral beneath her skin.
"I shouldn't have..."
Marie stepped closer, undeterred. She lifted her hand and cupped Lorenzo's face, her thumb brushing her cheek with surprising tenderness. Her other hand slid into Lorenzo's hair, slow and grounding, winding a dark strand around her fingers.
"You're here," Marie murmured. "With me. That's what matters."
Lorenzo closed her eyes for a heartbeat, leaning into the touch despite herself.
Then Marie asked, softly but clearly, the question that cut through everything.
"Is it your intention to take me… and disappear from my life or Will you make me your woman?"
The silence stretched, long enough for Marie to hear the fountain behind them, long enough for the night air to cool her flushed skin.
She saw something shift in his expression: surprise, pain, something dangerously close to longing.
Before Lorenzo could get herself together.
Marie lifted her hand, palm open in a gentle, halting gesture.
"You needn't fear answering," she said softly. "I would be content with either truth."
Her lips curved into a small, brave smile. "I only wished to know what manner of a man stands before me. A first passionate love or maybe perhaps... maybe .... the man, I will one day call my husband"
For a moment, Lorenzo looked as though the ground beneath her had given way.
Lorenzo reached for her instinctively.
"Marie..."
Marie caught her hand, stopping her. She leaned in, pressing one last kiss to Lorenzo's lips, soft, lingering, deliberate.
Then she stepped away, adjusting her dress and fixing lazily her hair as she said:
"I will wait for your call,"
And she left.
She went straight to her quarters.
Marcello tried to stop her, warning that emissaries from Italy were waiting, but she did not listen. She only grabbed a horse and rode hard into the night.
Her skin grew paler. Her eyes darker.
Marcello followed at a distance.
They reached the ruins.
Lorenzo's eyes burned red. Fangs pushed free.
Marcello arrived just in time to see it.
She growled low, feral, unrecognizable.
While she was still weak, he pulled silver chains from his bag and bound her to the stone wall. She fought him, snarling, blood-hunger blazing in her eyes.
Marcello bit his own hand to keep from crying.
From his satchel, he produced a vessel of fresh blood and hurled it toward her.
She tried to drink.
Spat it out.
Screamed in agony.
It went on until her body finally gave in until consciousness slipped away and she collapsed against the chains.
As darkness took her, the words tore from her like a confession.
Then she fell silent.
Morning light crept through the broken stone, pale and unforgiving.
Marcello startled when he saw Lorenzo awake, sitting upright, eyes clear, breath steady. The silver chains still bound her wrists, but she looked entirely herself again.
"Are you all right?" he asked carefully.
Lorenzo exhaled, a faint, humourless smile tugging at her lips.
"How do you think I fare, Marcello?"
He did not answer.
She continued, voice calm but edged with something sharp beneath it.
"You told me I was cursed. I accepted it. You told me I would age slower. Be stronger. Faster. That my senses would sharpen beyond any mortal's."
Marcello stepped forward. "Lorenzo "
"Where is this going?" he cut in.
Her composure snapped.
"You told me of bloodlust," she said, anger flaring at last. "But you forgot to tell me it would only ever hunger for the one person unfortunate enough to be the dearest to my heart."
The words landed like a blow.
As she spoke, the chains shattered. Stone cracked. The wall behind her splintered as though struck by a siege hammer.
Marcello staggered back, the air knocked from his lungs.
"You've grown stronger," he breathed. "Far stronger."
She looked at her hands, then back at him.
"I knew nothing of this,"Marcello said quickly, shaken. "Nothing, I swear it. You must believe me, child."
Lorenzo's fury ebbed, leaving something raw in its place.
"I do believe you," she said quietly. Then, just as quietly, "I was only stating a fact."
She met his eyes.
"I love her."
Marcello closed his eyes for a moment, then stepped forward and removed what remained of the chains.
"Then we need to return to the empire as soon as possible," he said grimly. "We cannot risk it"
She straightened. By then, She had lost all colours and life in her eyes.
Leaving felt like dying.
"The emissaries are here" Marcello added. "This could be our opening"
Lorenzo nodded once.
The curse had revealed its price.
And there would be no pretending otherwise anymore.