Tension permeated the night air, as though the stars themselves were holding their breath. King Alaric stood in the shadowy fortress's great hall, staring across the room at the elaborate double doors. There was something unnaturally motionless about him, a subdued hint of strength contained. He has ordered for generations that everyone summoned to his court keep their distance out of terror for the power concealed under his touch and sight. Nevertheless, he experienced an unknown spark tonight—a glimmer of something he hadn't let himself experience in a long time.

He could hear every breath she took and feel every heartbeat when the doors creaked open and the young woman was led in. It was as though the air between them broke with living things. Her hair glistened in the torchlight, cascading over her shoulders like molten bronze. But it was her eyes that stopped him cold: they were big, unbelievably familiar, and as clear as day.

Sharply inhaling, Alaric reverted to a reaction he had long since learned to ignore. He stared into her face, and centuries of self-control to suppress his feelings and wants started to disintegrate. Unbidden and intense, memories pushed their way to the top. Once, he had received a devoted, even loving gaze from those eyes. However, it was not feasible. The sacrifice of Elara was gone; it still troubled him in his dreams. Even though he knew this was a delusional dream, he sensed a long-suppressed desire growing within him. The need only became stronger as each and every heartbeat.

She broke the hush with a gentle voice, "King Alaric." "Hello, I'm Celine, a Southern Realms tribute."

Her voice faltered a little, but she kept her eyes on him, looking, probing, as though she was experiencing a weird pull too. The old wood of Alaric's throne creaked beneath his hands as he wrapped them around its arms. He tried to turn aside and ignore this unattainable goal, but he was unable to do so. Her faint but distinct perfume reached him, bringing with it a hint of enchantment that made his veins appear to hum. His senses were keener; his buried instincts reawakened.

Celine's eyes widened and her breath caught as he stood. She was terrified, yet she couldn't help but stare at him with a mixture of both inquisitiveness and resistance. He came to the realization that she was unaware of his potential for harm and her attraction to him. Her innocence served as a barrier, and that only intensified his yearning for her.

"Celine," he said, the word seeming somehow familiar but alien on his tongue. He gave himself permission to approach slowly, one step at a time. The heavy silence between them was filled by the sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor. "Are you aware of the risks you are taking by coming before me, unarmed and alone?"

The fire in her eyes remained unwavering even as she winced. "I understand that I was brought here as a gift—a sacrifice for peace. Though I'm not sure what I could provide for a monarch like you. Her fearlessness attracted him, yet her sentences faltered, showing her anxieties.

He gave a half smile, but it was tinged with resentment. "They send you to the slaughter like a lamb, but you don't seem to be afraid." Her pulse increased as he approached; from where he stood, he could almost taste the heat of her blood, a maddening reminder of a need he had long since forgotten. "Are you aware of my identity and my abilities?"

"I am aware of the stories," she retorted, her voice wavering but unwavering. They claim that no person escapes your court unharmed, that you are a monster, and that you feast on the blood of humans. However, I Her gaze scanned his as her words grew softer. "I don't think that those stories.

Her words caused something within of him to shake. The stories were real; there once was a beast that reigned with dread and brutality and who delighted in the blood of humans. But those years were long gone, lost in the sorrow of Elara's passing. Looking at the mortals in his domain now, all he saw were ghosts, and none had disturbed him until now. His mouth tightened as he tried to ignore the want that was biting at him, burying it like he did every other vulnerability. However, he felt as though she had stripped him naked, leaving every nerve raw and in pain.

With a deep, menacing voice, he muttered, "You are either courageous or dumb, child, to believe you could stand before me, to believe it would be possible for you to look at me and not see a beast.

Her eyes remained fixed even as her cheeks reddened. "A beast, perhaps, but not soulless."

The words were like a blow to his heart, igniting something brittle inside its emptiness. Her words, her attitude, her presence—all too familiar, yet not enough to sway his unwavering determination. With caution but firmness, he clasped her wrist, sensing the warmth of her pulse beneath his fingertips. His touch stayed on her flesh far longer than it should have, her skin so inviting and smooth. Her eyes flickered to astonishment and something deeper on her face.

With his voice just heard, he muttered, "You carry yourself like her." Just a mirror image of her. Additionally, however, there's more. His composure wavered, and his voice faltered. Tell me, Celine. What draws you to me?

His penetrating look pierced her, making her doubt and waver in her decision. With a shaky voice, she said, "I... I do not know." "However, I feel like I was meant to be here."

Those were her words, sealing a secret between them, and he felt his last wall fall away. Alaric's breath caught, his need for her blood becoming more and more intense and nibbling at the border of his sanity. He let go of her wrist and abruptly withdrew, his hands balled up at his sides. He felt a wave of raw, savage bloodlust, but he could not and would not allow himself to give in to it. Not right now. Not quite yet.

"Go," he said in a hollow voice, his eyes fixed on the darkness. "Prior to making a decision."

She stammered backward, a mix of curiosity and bewilderment on her face. "However... why?"

"Because I am not the man you think I am," he stated in a painful voice. "I am a monster," and if you stick around, I may show it to you.

Her expression softened as her breath caught. For a split second, it seemed as though she could see right through the darkness inside of him to the damaged soul that lay behind the cruel king's exterior. And that just intensified his desire for her.

After giving him one last, desperate glance, Celine turned to walk out of the hall, leaving her footsteps in his wake for quite some time that vanished. With white-knuckled fists, Alaric sunk back onto his throne and gripped its edges. He could still feel her heartbeat, her warmth, and the pulse that had rattled his entire being and renewed his thirst.

Alaric's thoughts spun with the mere notion that this woman might either be his savior or his downfall as the darkness drew closer to him.