The gown was exquisite.
Eleanor ran her fingers over the delicate embroidery, marveling at the intricate beadwork that shimmered under the candlelight. The fabric was soft, smooth—far too luxurious for someone like her.
She glanced at Esther, who was carefully laying out the accessories. “Where did this come from?”
“The seamstress,” Esther replied, her voice quiet.
Eleanor’s brows furrowed. “I know that. I mean… why? Why am I being dressed like this?”
Esther hesitated, her hands pausing mid-air. Then she sighed. “You’ll find out soon enough, madam.”
That only made Eleanor more suspicious.
As Esther started dressing her, Eleanor studied her through the mirror. She was young, probably around the same age as Eleanor, with soft brown curls tucked behind her ears.
Eleanor had just turned 20 when she was sold. Sometimes, she wondered if her father was waiting for that age before selling her off to the Valerian Vampire Kings
Eleanor caught her gaze through the reflection. “Were you always here?”
Esther’s hands froze for the briefest moment before continuing. “No. I was brought here.”
Eleanor turned her head slightly. “Sold?”
A short nod.
“Like me?”
Another nod.
Eleanor’s chest tightened. She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed made her stomach twist.
She waited a moment before asking, “What do you know about the brothers?”
Esther’s hands faltered, just for a second.
“They are our masters,” she said stiffly.
Eleanor sighed. “Come on, Esther. I know that. I mean… what are they really like?”
Esther kept her gaze down. “I can’t speak of them.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “Won’t or can’t?”
Esther hesitated. “Both.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to press further—a sharp knock on the door made them both freeze.
Esther’s head snapped up.
Eleanor turned toward the sound. “Who is it?”
The door opened before she could finish.
It was Dorian.
He leaned against the frame, smirking as his sharp eyes swept over the room. “I see they’ve dolled you up nicely.”
Esther immediately bowed her head, stepping back. Without another word, she slipped out of the room, leaving Eleanor alone with him.
Dorian stepped inside, his gaze lingering on Eleanor’s dress. “You clean up well.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
Dorian chuckled. “That’s more like you. For a second, I thought you were about to bow or curtsy.”
She scoffed. “I was just standing.”
He smirked. “That’s a step forward. Acknowledging my presence is the first sign of submission.”
Eleanor crossed her arms. “Keep dreaming.”
Dorian laughed, a deep, rich sound. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward.
Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath as her body collided with his.
His arms wrapped around her in a firm hold.
She stiffened. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dorian ignored her question. His voice was softer when he spoke next. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. His usual amusement was gone, replaced by something unreadable.
Before she could ask what he meant—
His lips crashed onto hers.
Eleanor’s mind blanked.
Dorian was kissing her.
But all she could think about… was Silas.
Dorian’s kiss lacked the fire, the raw intensity she had felt when Silas had kissed her. There was no hunger, no desperation—only a practiced smoothness that felt wrong.
Her fingers twitched, itching to push him away.
But before she could, he pulled back.
Dorian studied her reaction, smirking slightly. “That bad?”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What was that for?”
He shrugged. “Curiosity.”
Eleanor scowled. “I could have answered that without you sticking your tongue down my throat.”
Dorian grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Eleanor glared. “You’re impossible.”
His smirk remained, but there was something else in his gaze now. Something calculated.
She exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore whatever game he was playing. “Tell me what the ceremony is about.”
His smirk widened. “Patience, little one. You’re about an hour away from finding out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Silas told me it’s because of me.”
That got his attention.
His brows lifted slightly. “Did he, now?”
She nodded.
Dorian watched her for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say anything.
Then, he smirked again and made for the door.
Eleanor’s stomach twisted.
No.
She wasn’t going to let him leave without an answer.
Moving swiftly, she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
Dorian arched his brow. “Bold.”
She lifted her chin. “Tell me.”
“Why so curious?”
“Because I deserve to know.”
Dorian tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “And if I don’t tell you?”
“Then I’ll keep asking. And I’ll make sure to be very annoying about it.”
He chuckled. “I believe that.”
Eleanor crossed her arms. “So?”
Dorian studied her for a long moment. Then, finally, he sighed.
“The ceremony,” he said, “is meant to bind you.”
Eleanor’s stomach dropped. “Bind me?”
Dorian nodded. “By blood.”
Her heart started to race.
“To who?”
His smirk returned, but this time, there was something darker beneath it.
“To all of us.”
Eleanor’s breath caught.
Her hands clenched into fists. “What do you mean all of you?”
“I mean exactly what I said.”
Dorian leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
“The ceremony will make you bound by blood to each and every one of us.”
Silence.
Eleanor felt like the floor had just vanished beneath her.
She stared at him, her mind struggling to process what he had just said.
Bound.
To all of them.
Her throat went dry.
Dorian chuckled softly at her reaction. “That’s quite the look, Eleanor.”
She barely heard him because her mind was spinning. This was worse than she had imagined. Far worse.
Because if what he was saying was true… She wasn’t just being kept here. She was being claimed.