You were never supposed to fall for him. He, Sevastian Ruelle was born from blood and bullets—a vampire prince in a ruthless mafia syndicate. You were raised in high courts and velvet halls—your family the picture of regal perfection.

But destruction has a strange way of binding souls. And you two? You were a firestorm.

At elegant events, he'd smack your ass with his hand clad in black leather. You’d retaliate beneath the table, sliding your foot up his thigh, your heel pressing cruelly between his legs. A dangerous game played behind polished smiles.

It started as lust, mischief, defiance. Then came obsession.

He stalked you from the shadows—small things at first. A rose left on your windowsill.

A photo of you from the night before slipped into your drawer. And you?

You teased him, feigning ignorance. Strutting around on live camera feeds you knew he had access to, wearing things that barely counted as clothing, dancing like you owned him. You drove him insane.

He fed off you, over and over. Each time you offered your neck, he sank his fangs in with growing hunger, as if drinking you down would keep him sane. It never did.

You let him.

Because the pain felt like love. Because your love was poison. Twisted. Addictive. Mutual annihilation.

But he refused to say it—refused to admit that he loved you. So one night, you snapped.

You called him. Voice sultry, dangerous. “If I jumped off the Phoenix tower right now… would that finally prove it to you?”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Oh, baby,” you purred. “I’m feeling impulsive tonight. Is that proof enough?”

Then you hung up.

From the top of his skyscraper, he saw you. Hair wild like flames, silk nightgown clinging to your body in the wind. Your bare feet on the ledge. His eyes glowed red.

You smiled at him.

And then—you jumped.

For the first time in his immortal life, he felt dread, fear of losing the one thing that kept him from fully becoming a monster.

Your scent hit the air like a siren’s call. Your smirk was wicked, daring.

"Say it," your eyes screamed. "Say you won’t burn for me. Say you don’t love me."

He moved like lightning cracking the night sky.

In a blur of wind and wrath, he caught you, arms wrapped tight around your body mid-fall.

And as your lips parted in a gasp, he buried his fangs into your neck, hard and deep, drinking like a starving man.

Blood ran down his mouth.

You moaned, clinging to him, silk soaked red.

He landed soft as a breath, on his toes, by the pavement of his building, still holding you in his arms like a lifeline, a vampire needing you like he needed air to breathe.

His breathing came in sharp and small gasps, his lips on your throat, he growled low and ragged:

"You are a crazy, reckless, hellcat of a woman… but you’re mine."