Tiberius's POV
I hadn't meant to wander that far last night, but the air had been unusually clear, and the stars, though I hardly cared for celestial romanticism, had felt a bit too loud.
I'd walked the cobbled path alone, the soles of my boots tapping against the stone like a metronome to my thoughts.
The sector had been quiet, blanketed in its usual hush after dusk. Our people knew better than to roam freely in the dark.
I should've been preparing for that ridiculous gathering. A "meeting," they called it, though Ajax, bless his arrogance, called it a party. Of course he would.
The heir of House Damaris always needed things to sparkle before they were worth his time.
The scent had reached me just as I'd been turning back. It was faint at first. Sweet. Sharp. Alive. My senses had halted my steps before I was fully aware of what I'd caught. It hadn't been just any scent.
It had been blood. Human blood. But not like the others.
This… this had been different.
I'd moved without thought, the predatory instinct buried deep in my bones guiding me through the alley.
There, just beyond the arched corridor, I'd seen him. A vampire, young and sloppily dressed, towering over a trembling girl. Her eyes had been wide, her limbs frozen in primal fear.
He'd been seconds from sinking his fangs in.
I hadn't spoken. Hadn't given warning.
With a flick of my hand, he'd met the wall with a loud crack, and I'd been more than certain he was dead.
I'd turned and left her there. Not because I hadn't cared, but because if I'd stayed a moment longer… I would've taken a taste.
She had smelled like a legend.
One whispered about in the earliest records of our kind. Blood from a line once fabled to run parallel with the royal Houses, potent, rare, sacred.
The kind of blood I had once tasted as a child during a ceremonial offering before it vanished from the world altogether.
And now, she was here.
Alive.
And if I had sensed it… others would too.
I couldn't let her be taken. Not by any of the other Houses. They would've reduced her to a blood bag, a prized pet, or worse, turned her for sport.
House Noctis had never been a favorite among the other royal lines. Our restraint, our outdated respect for humans, made us seem weak in their eyes.
When I returned to the estate just before dawn, I had wasted no time. I had found Lysander in the north wing library, predictably draped across a couch doing absolutely nothing useful.
"There's a girl," I'd said simply.
His brow had quirked up, but he'd said nothing.
"She was wearing the Solhaven blazer. Black hair, gray eyes. Slightly shorter than you."
His mouth had opened with some smart retort, but I'd cut him off.
"Find her. Bring her. Quietly."
That had been enough.
Lysander had stood, stretching like a cat. "Of course. Anything for my mysterious, brooding brother and his sudden interest in teenage girls."
I'd ignored him.
She had to be brought in quietly, before word reached another House. If she was what I thought she was, what I knew she was, she wouldn't be safe out there.
And now… this morning, she was here.
In the estate. Somewhere down the hall, probably being peppered with questions by Mother and Father. They would be gentle, at least, I trusted they'd try. But I doubted any part of this felt gentle to her.
I stood at my mirror, tightening my cuffs, brushing a hand through my hair in a slow, automatic motion.
"Tiberius!" came the familiar yell.
Seconds later, a thud.
Lysander.
Of course.
He sprawled out across my bed like he owned it, grinning like a fox. "Say, brother, you're really taking his invitation? Why?"
He dangled his head upside down from the mattress's edge, eyes gleaming like he'd just stolen something.
"Because I've been told I'm too 'stuffy' and need to get out more."
He burst into laughter. "You've never cared about that before."
"I still don't." I buttoned the last cuff. "This is a strategic move, Lysander."
He sat up with a dramatic pout. "Strategic, huh? So you plan to smile and flirt with heirs you despise while sipping animal blood and pretending it's wine?"
"Precisely."
He groaned. "You're the worst kind of royal. No flair."
"I have enough flair to keep our House alive. That's more than most can claim."
He flopped backward again, hands behind his head. "Mother and Father are speaking to her now."
I nodded once. "Yes. I know they are."
She must've been confused. Terrified, even. Dragged here by strangers and interrogated by the matriarch and patriarch of a House she had most likely been taught to fear. But she would be safe here...for now.
Lysander narrowed his gaze at me. "You think it's really her, don't you?"
I ran my fingers through my hair again, slower this time. "She smells like it. And you smelled it too."
"The rarest blood type. The one only royals can smell." He sat up straighter. "That's why you brought her here."
"She has to be protected."
Lysander tilted his head, that sly expression still painted on his face. "You think the others will come for her?"
"They will. If they haven't already caught wind of her presence." I looked out the window toward the rooftops below. "Keep an eye on her. That's all I ask. I'll be back tonight."
He gave a low whistle. "Look at you. Playing knight for the blood of legends."
"This isn't a game, Lysander."
"I never said it was."
I left my room, cloak once again settled over my shoulders. The corridor stretched ahead, wide and quiet. My steps made no sound on the polished floors.
Then I saw her.
Zara.
She was walking slowly, like each step hurt. Her eyes darted around, hollow, uncertain, filled with the kind of fear I had seen in battlefields and ruins.
She didn't see me until she was practically on me.
When she did, she froze. Almost collided with me. "I—I'm sorry—I wasn't—"
I held up a hand. "Take care of yourself."
She blinked, startled.
I walked past her without another word.
But gods, I wanted to look back. Just one more breath of that scent. Just one more glance.
Instead, I clenched my fist.
And released it.
Hold yourself together, Tiberius.
This is no time to fall to instinct.