The scent of expensive wine and burning tobacco filled the air as Armand Vayne reclined in his lavish study, a crystal goblet cradled between his fingers. The flames in the hearth cast flickering shadows across the room, but even firelight could not chase away the cold that clung to the space. He had been expecting the lord of Blackstone keep tonight. Had even welcomed the piercing gaze of the infamous Darian Vale, knowing full well what the vampire was. And yet...something unsettled him.
Vayne swirled the deep red liquid in his goblet, watching as it caught the light. His rise to power had been rapid, yes, but not without cost. He had built his wealth on secrets, on things stolen from the dark corners of the world where men dared not tread. But what he had hidden beneath his estate-that was his greatest treasure. His fingers tightened around the goblet as he thought of it. Of her.
A soft whimper drifted through the walls, barely audible. A sound that should have been lost beneath the cracking fire and the murmur of the city beyond his window. But Vayne heard of it. He always heard it. His jaw clenched. He rose from his chair and crossed the room, his expensive silk robes whispering against the marble floor. His study held many locked doors-doors no guest , even lord Darian, had been allowed to see.
Reaching one of them, he pressed his palm against the heavy iron, feeling the warmth of the magic woven into its surface. A warded door. No ordinary thief would be able to pass through it. Not without suffering. Vayne exhaled through his nose and turned the key. The lock clicked, and the door groaned open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.
The scent of saltwater and something sweeter-something sorrowful-filled the air.
Chain rattled.
The girl was curled against the farthest wall, pale and trembling, her iridescent scales dulled beneath the grim of captivity. Her once-flowing hair had been shorn short, and the delicate webbing between her fingers bore the raw marks of the old restraint. She did not raise her head as he stepped inside.
"You're quiet tonight,"Vayne murmured, setting his goblet down on a nearby table. His voice was smooth, absent of the cruelty one might expect from a man in his position. But she flinched all the same. Vayne crouched before her, reaching out. His fingers brushed her cheek, tilting her face upward. She had been beautiful once-still was, in a way. But her eyes....her eyes held nothing but exhaustion.
"Come now," he coaxed, his tone almost gentle.- "You know what i require." The girl swallowed hard, her throat working around unspoken words. And then-herlip parted. The sound that left her was not a sob, nor a scream. It was something that carried the weight of sorrow itself. A keening, aching melody that sent shivers through the very air.
A single tear slipped from her eye, rolling down her cheek before falling onto the tray Vayne had placed beneath her. The moment the tear struck the surface, it shifted, solidifying into something smooth and perfect. A pearl-white in color.
Vayne smiled.
He plucked it from the tray, turning it between his fingers. Another fortune. Another step towards more. The girl sagged against the wall spent, her breathing shallow. Vayne rose to his feet, tucking the pearl into his pocket. "Good girl," he murmured. Then, without another glance, he turned and locked the door behind him.
Outside, the storm raged. And somewhere in the night, Darian Vale hunted for answers.