Rain had begun to fall in slow, rhythmic sheets against the high glass panes, tapping like patient fingers across the stained windows of the tower. Thunder murmured in the far distance—soft, like the purring of some vast, slumbering creature. Inside the chamber, it was quiet. Warm, even.
A fire crackled low in the hearth, its glow casting molten gold across polished floors and tapestries stitched in the deep reds and blacks of old vampiric heraldry.
Selira knelt upon the furs by the fire, her legs folded neatly beneath her. She was still, silent. Her linen gown clung to her body from the mist outside, damp at the hem, thin enough to be modest only in theory. Her black hair, tangled from wind and sweat, fell in wet ringlets against her collarbone. The old collar—iron and tight-fitting—rested cold and absolute at her throat.
She barely felt it anymore. It was like skin.
The door creaked open behind her. She didn’t turn.
She knew the steps by heart.
Dangrey’s presence filled the room the way night floods a field—quiet, enveloping, inevitable. His robes trailed across the floor, layers of black silk and silver-edged velvet embroidered with ancient bloodline runes. His hair was dark, smooth as ink, pulled back into a short clasp of bone. His eyes, red cold as obsidian, studied her with practiced precision.
"You were out in the storm," he said, tone casual.
"I wanted to feel the cold," she answered.
"Does it still bite?" he asked, crossing to her.
"Not like it used to."
He knelt behind her, and she felt his fingers at her neck. The collar clinked, unlocked with a soft snap. For a moment, her skin felt bare, raw.
But he was already replacing it.
This one was heavier. Sleeker. Silver-black, traced with markings that shimmered faintly under the firelight. When it settled around her throat, she inhaled—tight, instinctive.
"This is new," she murmured.
Dangrey’s voice was low. "It’s yours."
Her fingers rose, hesitated, then touched the edge of the new metal.
"It’s a sign of your place," he continued, circling around to face her. "I’ve given collars to many before. But none . You’ve earned something... greater."
Her heart lifted—then stumbled. "Greater?"
"You are not like the others, Selira," he said, cupping her jaw. His thumb traced her cheek, slow and soft. "You chose this life with open eyes. You offered more than servitude."
She nodded. She had. And more.
"You gave me names," he said, leaning closer. "You gave up your family without hesitation when I asked you to."
Her throat clenched. "They would have been found in time. I was protecting myself."
Dangrey smiled. "Yes. Your hunter husband."
The words echoed. Her lips parted, then closed again.
"I still remember your voice," he said. "’He’s one of them. He’s dangerous. I can take you to him if you save my son and daughters!"
"Alas! I could only save you!"
She shut her eyes. The memory returned uninvited— She had run with Liora only to dart back to check what had become of them and find everyone dead.
"I knew what would happen," she whispered.
"Of course you did," Dangrey said gently. "That’s what made your gift of insight so valuable."
"I couldn’t save them! What’s done is done!" she bit through her teeth trying to forget it, but her master wouldn’t let it go to her slight annoyance.
"You chose. And choosing me was survival."
Selira breathed out through her nose. The weight of the new collar pressed more than just physically. She didn’t know why it felt colder than the last.
" you were free then," he added, soft. "You could have run. Could’ve warned them. But you came to me instead."
"I was... tired of hiding. Of pretending not to want more..." Selira whispered toying with the ring on her oinky finger which was something she had stolen before she left. The reason for her gift.
He smiled. "And now you never have to pretend again."
He bent and kissed her forehead, then her mouth—lingering, cool, possessive. Her body answered automatically. She tilted her head, offered more. When his fingers slid through her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck, she arched into him without hesitation.
When it was over, she lay curled beneath his cloak, wrapped in a velvet warmth that smelled of iron and rain. Her breathing slowed, but her thoughts didn’t.
He watched her, reclining lazily on the couch beside her. Goblet in hand, ankle crossed over his knee. The picture of leisure. But his eyes never lost that sharp, clinical stillness. He was always measuring.
"You’ve given me so much, Selira," he murmured. "But even now, you hold back a little piece."
She turned her head, brows drawing faintly. "What do you mean?"
He drained the goblet, then set it aside. "There was a child. A daughter. Yours. His."
Selira blinked. Her heart stumbled. "She... she died." she instantly responded aware that there was no way Aria the one she left behind would be alive.
Liora on the other hand she was sure had been taken and sold elsewhere far from her. It was for her own protection. If found, the same fate of a slave would befall her, something Selira didn’t want.
"Did she survive?" she asked with a slight gasp.
A wave of cold passed through her bones.
"I saw the fire," she said slowly. "I saw the house collapse."
"You saw smoke," he corrected. "You assumed."
Selira sat up slightly, dread crawling like vines up her spine. "What are you saying?"
"I’m saying she lives." He said it like he was revealing a birthday gift. "The King’s court took her. If you hadn’t been so focused on me on the tournament you would have seen her on the pavilion"
"An enigma of beauty!"
Her mouth opened. She couldn’t speak.
"Beautiful girl," he added. "Looks just like you. Same mouth. Same stubborn brow."
Selira’s voice was a whisper. "She’s alive?"
"More than that," he said, leaning close again, brushing her hair back. "She’s the king’s only pet. A favorite. She belongs only to him" he said as he licked his lips over and over again like he had seen something tasty he couldn’t get rid of.
The storm outside had grown heavier. Selira couldn’t tell if the thunder was real or just inside her chest.
"She must hate me," she breathed.
"No. She probably thinks you died too."
Selira pressed her palms to her eyes, shaking.
"She...she knows nothing," she said. "She will hate me!"
"She is still young," Dangrey said gently. "Still moldable."
She looked up at him. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I want her."
"I want her here. With us," he continued, tracing the new collar around her neck with one cool finger. "You and I are the beginning of something greater. She completes it."
Selira stared. "You want to keep her here?"
"I want you to give her to me."
Tears welled in her eyes—hot, unexpected.
"She’s my daughter," she said, half to him, half to herself.
"She’s ours," he said. "Through blood and choice."
"She won’t understand."
"She will. Or she’ll learn. Just as you did."
Selira’s fingers clutched at the fur beneath her. "She’s innocent."
"So were you," Dangrey said. "Once."
The silence stretched so far she thought it might break.
Then: "Do you love me, Selira?"
She looked up, eyes wide. "Yes."
He smiled again, slow and warm.
"Then trust this," he whispered. "A family. Whole. Unified. You, me, and her. No more running. No more ghosts."
Selira’s body trembled. A part of her screamed, Don’t. But it was small, weaker now. Drowned in years of obedience, of loneliness dressed as love.
Looked at the collar.
Looked at the reflection of her own empty eyes in the polished floor.
"If she comes here..." she said. "If I bring her—will you treat her like me?"
Dangrey nodded. "She will belong. Just like you."
And somehow, she made herself believe that was a gift.
"I’ll do it," she whispered.
He kissed her again, this time softer. "Good girl. If she doesn’t want to come we can simply take her!"
Selira’s body instantly jerked up with fierce rejection in her eyes but before she could breathe a word, Dangrey pulled her close staring into her eyes even as his own red orbs glittered in a way that made it clear that he was beguiling her.
"We will take her by force! It’s the best thing to do don’t you agree?" he asked even as Selira found herself nodding strongly the very next moment.
Dangrey was a good master and who knew what the king with all his proclivities have done to her.
Dangrey was a safer option and what better thing than to serve the same master ss daughter and mother.
Selira leaned into his embrace, eyes unfocused. Rain pounded the windows behind them, the storm growing nearer.
She didn’t know if it was grief or relief that spilled down her cheeks.