Chapter 2

Nyx's brow furrowed, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features at the interruption.

A fragile spark of hope kindled in my chest. Perhaps a witness in the room would force him to temper his behavior.

"Let her in," he said, his tone cool and detached. He rose from the bed with effortless grace and settled onto the sofa nearby, legs crossed, slipping seamlessly back into the guise of the silent, aloof blood slave.

Yet his crimson eyes never strayed from me. They remained fixed on my every move, as though I were a caged songbird he could admire at his leisure.

The door swung open, and a woman in a lavish blood-red gown swept into the room. Her hair was a cascade of brilliant gold, her eyes a vivid crimson. She was stunning, but edged with something predatory.

She was Evelyn Ravenshade. One of the Four Vampire Dukes, and according to the system files, Nyx's most fervent admirer.

Her gaze found me instantly. When she registered my half-dressed state sprawled across Nyx's bed, raw jealousy ignited in those striking eyes.

"A lowly human. How dare you to lie upon the Prince's bed!" she shrieked, crossing the room in a blur of motion.

I recoiled on instinct, but she seized a fistful of my hair and wrenched my head back. A searing pain tore across my scalp, and a cry escaped my lips before I could stifle it.

"Release her." Nyx's voice cut through the room from the sofa, cold as a blade.

Evelyn froze mid-motion and turned to him, disbelief written across her face. "My Prince? You would speak on behalf of a human?"

Nyx regarded her in silence, offering nothing more than an unblinking stare.

The jealousy in her expression curdled into something uglier. She released my hair, then drew back her hand and struck me hard across the face.

The slap rang out, sharp and final.

My cheek swelled on impact, and I tasted the copper tang of blood seeping into the corner of my mouth.

"A plaything should remember its place," she hissed, her eyes boring into me as though she meant to swallow me whole.

Shame burned through me. I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, tears threatening to spill over.

I stole a glance at Nyx. He remained utterly still, his expression unreadable, as though the woman who had been struck was not the "master" he had served for three months but some insignificant insect.

That cold indifference cut deeper than Evelyn's blow ever could.

He was merely observing. Watching the spectacle unfold, the way one might watch a hound harass a wounded hare.

Emboldened by Nyx's silence, Evelyn leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear, her whisper meant for me alone. "Stay away from the Prince, human. The next time I lay hands on you, it will not end with a slap."

Her nails dragged across my swollen cheek, leaving fiery, bloody furrows in their wake.

*****

After Evelyn swept out of the chamber, the silence that settled in her absence felt heavier than before.

I scrambled off the bed in a pathetic heap, my cheek still throbbing, the metallic taste of blood clinging stubbornly to my tongue.

Nyx remained seated on the sofa, idly turning a crystal glass filled with vivid red liquid in his hand.

That was my blood. Every day, he poured himself a small glass and drank it down as casually as if it were morning juice.

"Come here," he said, his voice devoid of inflection.

I stiffened, then shuffled toward him on unsteady legs, not daring to lift my gaze.

"Does that sting?" he asked, his tone light, almost conversational.

I bit my lip and offered no response.

"Eyes on me." The words came soft, but the steel beneath them was unmistakable.

I had no choice but to obey. I raised my head and met those probing crimson eyes.

He studied the swollen mark and the angry scratches carved into my cheek, and I searched his face for some trace of pity. I found only a glint of dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Know your place, sweetheart." He reached out and swiped his thumb across the corner of my mouth, wiping away the blood with deliberate roughness. "You are my pet.

"When my mood suits me, I may allow you a taste of my favor. And when it does not..."

He paused, then brought his blood-streaked thumb to his lips and sucked it clean. The gesture was both sensual and menacing. "I can end you whenever the whim strikes."

My heart plummeted into a cold abyss.

The system erupted in my head, its voice shrill with panic. 'Host, we've been set up!

'The main system's intel was completely fabricated. This is no tragic romance. This is a survival death game.'