Serenya stirred, her lashes fluttering like fragile wings before her eyes slowly opened. The golden glow of the candelabras reflected across the lavish ceiling, their flickering flames sending shadows dancing along the carved arches of her bedroom. The air smelled faintly of roses and old parchment, mingling with the cold crispness of night that seeped in from the balcony windows.
For a moment, she remained still, staring up at the ceiling as if her mind was still trapped between dream and reality. Then, as the heavy weight of memory returned—Zareth's touch, the sting and heat of his bite, and the binding of their souls—her stomach knotted.
Pushing herself from the silken bed, she padded barefoot across the polished marble floor toward the mirror. Her reflection greeted her: wide, innocent eyes rimmed with fatigue, hair disheveled and tumbling around her face, lips swollen from restless sleep. But her gaze quickly drifted downward to her neck.
The sight made her throat tighten. Zareth's name was carved there—not like ink, not like a scar, but an engraving that glowed faintly under her skin, pulsing with a strange rhythm that wasn't hers alone. She lifted her fingers to touch it, the soul-binding mark, and swallowed.
A voice cut through the silence, deep, sardonic, and commanding.
"I didn't know you'd like it this much, sleeping beauty. I would have marked you sooner."
She gasped, spinning toward the corner of her room. Zareth was there, lounging on the dark velvet couch as if he owned not only her chamber but the air she breathed. A book rested in his gloved hand, which he snapped shut before rising with deliberate grace.
The room was dim, the sky outside already cloaked in night. Shadows sharpened the hard lines of his face, making his crimson eyes burn brighter, predatory yet impossibly captivating.
"What are you doing in my room?" Serenya's voice trembled slightly as she tried to steady her breath.
He crossed the space between them in a few long strides, each one making her heart pound harder. "Waiting for my sleeping beauty to wake," he replied simply, his tone maddeningly straight, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So we can have dinner."
Her pulse skipped. She opened her mouth, "You didn't have to, you should've—"
Zareth stepped closer. Instinctively, she stepped back, only to find her back brushing against the cool wood of her dressing table. He tilted his head, lips curling. "Why shouldn't I?"
Serenya breath caught in her throat at their close proximity. "Because—you know I can hear you clearly even across the room," she stammered, cheeks flushing. "You don't need to come this—"
His hand shot out, curling firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her breath caught, her body trembling like a caged bird beneath his grip.
"Why," his voice dipped low, silk over steel, "would I stand across the room when I can have you right here?"
Her face burned, heat creeping down her neck. She had no words.
"I bound my soul to yours, Serenya," he continued, voice darkly smooth. "Something I swore I'd never do. So stop running from it and accept it."
She bit her lip. Against her will, her heart betrayed her—beating faster, warmer. She remembered, before sleep claimed her, the thought that maybe… maybe it wasn't so terrible after all . Terrifying, yes, but he hadn't hurt her. Not truly.
"F-fine," she whispered, the word barely audible.
But Zareth heard. He always heard. A crooked smile curved his lips, self-satisfied, victorious.
"Aren't you a dove?" he teased. "Now—let's get you ready for dinner."
Before she could protest, he turned her toward the mirror.
"What are you—? I'll call for a servant—"
"Stand still," he commanded, the words sharp and brooking no argument.
His long fingers wove through her hair, combing through the tangles with surprising precision. He braided it swiftly into three neat knots at the back of her head. Serenya stared at his reflection in the mirror, her breath catching at how naturally he moved, as if he had done this countless times before. The thought stung, unbidden jealousy lodging in her chest.
"Done," Zareth muttered, stepping back, his eyes glinting with smug pride.
She nodded, too flustered to speak. Then he caught her hand and guided her out of the room. Serenya expected the path to the dining hall, but instead, he turned toward the grand double doors opposite hers.
"Why are we going into your chambers instead of the dining hall?" she asked, pausing at the threshold .
Zareth glanced back with that infuriatingly crooked smile. "Don't be shy now. It hasn't been that long since you were on my bed."
Her face flamed, and she snapped her eyes shut before opening them again to retort. "Don't say it like that. Nothing happened."
"Nothing you admit out loud," he countered smoothly.
As if summoned, Cassian appeared at the end of the hall, followed by the royal chef and a line of servants carrying gleaming trays of food. The rich scent of roasted meats and exotic spices filled the air.
Zareth smirked, his voice deliberately loud, "Look at you acting so innocent when you were so obedient on my bed. Don't worry, I understand."
Serenya's mouth fell open, mortified. Her glare could have burned through stone, but Zareth only looked amused. The servants bowed low and filed into his chambers, their faces impassive, trained to betray no reaction. Cassian, of course, remained unreadable, his silence infuriatingly neutral.
Zareth held the door open for her, his expression taunting. She entered, hesitant, her heart pounding.
He led her to the balcony, where the sunset spilled its dying light across the horizon. The sky was painted in deep purples and streaks of fiery orange, casting a romantic glow over the table now set for two. Crystal goblets gleamed, and the silverware reflected the glow of lanterns strung across the balcony rail.
Serenya gasped softly, the beauty stealing her breath. She wanted to tell him it was breathtaking, but pride kept her lips pressed together.
He noticed anyway. Zareth always noticed.
When the servants finished, he pulled out her chair with impeccable grace, a mocking parody of chivalry. She sat, avoiding his gaze, while the servants moved to adjust his chair.
"Excuse us," Zareth said smoothly, eyes never leaving Serenya. "And Cassian—see to it no one disturbs us."
Cassian bowed and dismissed the others.
Dinner began. Zareth served her food himself, slicing and arranging portions onto her plate with meticulous care. She couldn't ignore the weight of his gaze, watching her every movement.
She took a spoonful hesitantly, savoring the tender flavor of the meat, the spices dancing on her tongue. Across from her, Zareth lifted his goblet, the deep red liquid catching the light as he took a sip.
"You know," he said conversationally, "my family is waiting to have dinner with me right now. But here I am—stealing you for myself."
Serenya lowered her spoon. "I don't want to make them my enemies," she said softly. "I want to live peacefully with them."
His eyes narrowed, then softened with something almost amused. "Look at you," he murmured, leaning forward, "already planning our future together. If I had known the soul-binding would bring this side out of you, I'd have done it sooner."
He reached across, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lips where a crumb lingered. The touch sent a shiver down her spine.
"You're the only one I see as mine, Serenya," he said, voice lower, intimate. "So stop trembling and allow me to love you."
Her breath caught, heart racing wildly. She forced herself to look away, cheeks blazing. "I… I want to see my family," she whispered, almost desperately.
He leaned back, his smirk lazy, indulgent. He speared a piece of steak and slipped it into his mouth, chewing with deliberate sensuality. "You will. Of course." His crimson eyes gleamed. "But only after you've fallen in love with me."
She stared at him, torn between exasperation and the confusing flutter of her heart. "I don't think I could run even if I wanted to," she admitted quietly. "Not with this binding… But Zareth, I really want to see them."
For a moment, his gaze darkened, strands of his hair falling into his eyes as he studied her. Then his lips curled into that crooked, maddening smile.
"Fine," he said at last, his voice soft but laced with steel. "On one condition."
Serenya's breath caught, her fork halting midway to her mouth. "What condition?"
His eyes burned into hers, his smile widening like a predator savoring its kill.
"You'll move into my chambers."
Her eyes widened. "What?!"
The word echoed into the night air, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Zareth only leaned back in his chair, smirk deepening, his wine swirling lazily in the goblet. "You heard me, dove. It's either that or nothing ".