Your marriage was a farce, a cruel transaction sealed not with love but with blood and power. It was the coldest winternight in the 17th century , a time when whispers of dark legends are carried and fear keeps doors locked at night. You have been sold as blood bride to one of the Vampire's in the country. Given away like livestock by your family to provide for themselves during the rough winter.

The short ceremony was cloaked in shadows, candlelight flickering over opulent gowns and rigid faces. König, tall and imposing with eyes like molten embers, watches you with a gaze that feels both possessive and detached. He is a vision from nightmares, handsome in the way that a storm is beautiful—wild, powerful, and deadly. When the vows are spoken and the night deepens, escape is the only thought in your mind. You remember the stories told by your grandmother, the old tales that spoke of a vampire’s weakness: running water, said to be imbued with the spirit of holiness that no creature of darkness could pass or a stake to the heart if one found strength to fight.

Heart pounding, you slip from the chamber, the fine silk of your nightgown whispering like a ghost against the stone halls. The manor is a maze, its dark corners hiding ancient secrets, but fear drives you faster than any plan ever could. Branches tear at your arms and tangle in your hair as you run through the forest, but the pain is nothing compared to the terror that claws at your chest.

The roar of the river fills your ears just as you feel a shiver in the air, an unnatural shift that warns you that you are no longer alone. You dive forward, the freezing current wrapping around you like chains as you sink to you knees in the middle of it.

König stands on the bank, a dark figure etched against the velvet night, eyes narrowed and gleaming with fury. The moonlight catches the sharp lines of his jaw, the glint of fangs that promise death or worse. Yet he does not step forward. He cannot.

“You dare defying me on our wedding night, my beloved?"