Wrapped snugly in a heavy, worn blanket and clutching a pillow like a shield, I slipped quietly out of the carriage. The night air was crisp, biting at the exposed parts of my skin, but my hunger—raw, gnawing, unbearable—pushed me forward. It clawed at my mind, nearly driving me insane, though mercifully not enough to lose control and attack every shadow or movement I saw. Instead, I moved with calculated stealth toward the campfire flickering a few meters away.

  The soft crackle and glow of the flames illuminated the figures seated around it. My eyes locked onto the unsuspecting coachman, his back turned to me, completely unaware of the predator creeping up behind him. Carefully, I set the pillow down on the cold ground, lowering myself until I was just above him. Then, with a swift, practiced motion, I sank my teeth deep into the tender flesh at the base of his neck.

  A startled yelp tore from his throat as he twisted and flailed wildly, desperate to break free from the vice-like grip I had around him. But his frantic struggles were futile against my deadly embrace. The seconds stretched thin as his resistance faltered, breath growing ragged, until finally, the light in his eyes dimmed and he crumpled sideways, lifeless. Only then did I release him.

  “What?” I asked, turning toward Tom, who had remained frozen on the other side of the fire, his face shadowed and unreadable. He hadn’t uttered a single word throughout the entire scene but now gazed down at the corpse with something that looked like pity.

  “Nothing…” he said quietly, voice low. “It’s just… I became friends with Lucius.”

  His words hit me harder than I expected. A pang of sadness mixed with cold pragmatism. This man—Lucius—had known too much about me. He was a liability, and no matter how much Tom’s empathy wished otherwise, Lucius’s fate was sealed.

  Unmoved, I reached out and rolled the corpse closer to the fire. Flames eagerly licked at his skin, which began to blacken and crackle as it was consumed by the heat. The smell of burning flesh hung thick in the air, and I couldn’t help but watch with a strange detachment as the coachman was erased from existence.

  Tom was an enigma to me, more so than ever before. He feared death, that much was obvious. But just as often, he provoked it—tempting me to end him because his emotions were too raw to control. Despite this volatile edge, I felt an odd satisfaction in his unpredictable growth.

  Settling down on my pillow beside the fire, I held my hands close, savoring the small warmth it offered against the creeping cold.

  “Was it fascinating, hearing me moan like a slut?” I asked, voice low and deliberately seductive. “Did you get off on watching how my unripe chest got kneaded by another man? Did you like what you saw?”

  I pulled the blanket aside and bared my chest to him, expecting some flicker of desire, some trace of acknowledgment. But he didn’t even glance down once. The silence between us was heavy.

  “No,” I whispered, a slow understanding blooming in my mind. “You were getting off on the corruption inside Arthur. You’re not after me… you’re after the darkness living within me.”

  I wrapped the blanket back around myself tightly, the chill creeping in as I looked into his eyes, searching for the truth behind that inscrutable gaze.

  “Close,” he said softly, voice low and almost reverent. “You’re right—I seek darkness more than anything else. I didn’t realize it when I was still with the bandits, lost in that endless void, but you…”

  He stood, the flickering firelight casting shifting shadows across his face as he slowly circled the blaze. Then, without a word, he knelt before me, eyes locked on mine with a fierce intensity.

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  “You opened my eyes to the truth,” he whispered, his hand reaching out gently to caress my cheek—delicate, as if I were something precious and fragile, a treasure to be guarded.

  A soft smile curved my lips, and I leaned into his touch, tilting my head so his hand was nestled perfectly between my cheek and shoulder.

  “And yet,” He murmured, “you’re wrong about yourself. There is no darkness within you. You are the darkness. And just like you said, I seek out the darkness that is you. I want you—I want to indulge in every depravity you can come up with.”

  My gaze softened as he continued, “There isn’t a single shred of light piercing through your whole being… except on one rare occasion.”

  Slowly, carefully, I took his hand—the one still resting against my cheek—and brought it to my lips. I smiled sweetly, locking eyes with his glowing pink orbs, fascinated by the veins pulsing beneath his skin.

  “Are you saddened that I will give my best to protect children?” I asked quietly, a gentle curiosity in my voice.

  He answered with a slow smile, “If the devil likes children, so be it.”

  That simple admission made happiness swell inside me. I bared my elongated canines in a teasing grin and leaned in closer, my breath cool against his skin.

  “Are you prepared to die for me?” I asked, hope threading through every word.

  His answer was steady, filled with quiet conviction. “I am willing to become this… this thing inside the carriage forever, by your side.”

  For the first time, a flicker of his true potential—raw, unyielding—shone through. The temptation to grant his wish right then, to make him immortal with me, was almost overwhelming.

  But I held back. I moved my mouth even closer to his hand, my cold breath ruffling his hair, my teeth grazing the surface of his skin before I closed my mouth and pressed a tender kiss to his palm.

  “The time isn’t right yet,” I said softly, a pang of sadness in my voice. “It will take many more years before I can turn you into a vampire.”

  “You’ll never trust me completely until you turn me into a vampire, though,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, trying to tug at my resolve. But if he thought a few words would grant him my blood, he was sorely mistaken. He’d have to prove himself far more worthy than that. And truth be told, despite what he said, I knew I would never fully trust him—not even if I turned him. Those who chase after darkness seldom become the most dependable allies.

  “Come with me,” I said instead, a slow, seductive smile curling at the edges of my lips. I wanted to show him exactly what he craved—maybe, just maybe, it would change his mind.

  I led him back toward the carriage, the night air cool against my skin, my heartbeat quickening with the thrill of the moment. Inside, I drew back the heavy curtains, allowing the pale, silver moonlight to flood the cramped space. The soft glow illuminated everything with a ghostly calm: Arthur lying sprawled on the floor, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths, and me—standing proud and beaming with dark delight.

  “Straddle him,” I commanded, watching intently as Tom settled himself on Arthur’s bare belly, his movements deliberate and careful.

  I crossed my legs and leaned back, savoring the scene just as Arthur’s eyes fluttered open. Panic flashed across his face as he thrashed wildly, struggling against the invisible chains binding him.

  “And now,” I added, voice sharp and commanding, “strangle him to death.”

  Then I sat back, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as I witnessed the brutal dance unfold before me—power, fear, and the inevitability of darkness entwined in the flickering shadows.