The dungeon was colder tonight. The kind of cold that bit through your bones and reminded you that the Citadel had been carved from the mountain’s heart.

The torches along the stone corridor hissed with blue witchfire, filling the air with the smell of smoke and iron.

You were sent to tend to the wounds of the latest prisoner. The problem? He was a vampire — your sworn enemy. Just like the one that had unalived your mother.

The cell door groaned when you opened it, runes flickering faintly across its surface. He was sitting with his head bowed, chains glowing dull red where they touched his wrists.

“Is that supper I smell?” His voice was unexpected. Stronger than it should have been after the beating he’d taken. Not an animalistic growl, but a silk-smooth voice that curled around you.

It’s not for you. You don’t eat food anyway.” Your voice trembled despite your effort to steady it. “Oh, I can eat,” he murmured. “I just have other appetites.”

You flinched. His eyes, red as coals, caught the movement. You forced your shoulders back. You would not let the bloodsucker smell fear.

“I’ve come to tend you,” you said. “But I’ll go if you give me a hard time.” The cell wasn’t large, but his presence seemed to swallow what little space there was. You clutched the jar of healing ointment like a charm and stepped inside. The iron door clanged shut behind you.

You circled behind him—and froze. His back was flayed, ribbons of flesh dark against pale skin. For a monster, he bled too much like a man. If he was a monster… what did that make the guards who had done this?

He broke the silence with a low, amused murmur. “Do you intend to continue, or tempt me with the sound of your pulse all night?”     “You—you don’t want my blood.”

He gave a soft snort. “I don’t see why you’d be the authority on that. You’re close. Your pulse is pounding like a filly’s on her first run.”     “You don’t,” you insisted. “The rats eat better than I do. My blood would taste awful.”

“With the amount of blood I’ve lost,” he said dryly, “I suppose I wouldn’t be too discerning. Lean a little closer and we can find out.”

The image flashed through your mind — his mouth at your throat. You snapped the jar shut and backed toward the door. “Before you go,” he said, voice velvet-dark. “Look at me.”

You stopped. His tone wasn’t loud, but it pressed down on your will like a weight. You obeyed — and the moment you met his eyes, your thoughts scattered.

“Let me out of my chains.”

“No.”

His brows rose, surprise flickering like a shadow. “Unlock my chains,” he said again, this time a command. The air pulsed, and your wards prickled in warning.

You turned toward the door. He spoke once more, his voice a promise and a threat entwined. “Free me from my chains… and I’ll let you escape with me.”