My heart hammered against my ribs as I climbed the marble staircase to Ronan's private study, my wedding dress draped carefully over my arm. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would finally make everything real.
The heavy oak door stood slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the darkened hallway. I pushed it open with trembling fingers, expecting to find Ronan reviewing our ceremony details or perhaps writing his vows. Instead, I found him arranging an array of silver instruments on his mahogany desk—the ritual knives, the ceremonial bowl, the binding cords I knew too well.
"Ronan?" My voice came out smaller than intended. "What are you doing?"
He didn't look up from his meticulous arrangement. "Lucy. Good. I need you to sit."
The wedding dress slipped from my numb fingers, pooling on the Persian rug like spilled cream. "But... tomorrow is our wedding day. Surely whatever this is can wait until—"
"It can't wait." His tone cut through my protests with surgical precision. "Avayah needs spiritual nourishment. She's been feeling weak lately—a minor ailment, but it requires immediate attention."
The familiar chair felt cold against my back as I sank into it, confusion clouding my thoughts. In three years of blood extractions, every single drop had gone to the jade vein buried beneath the Cooper estate. Never to a person. Never to her.
"I don't understand," I whispered, watching him select the sharpest blade with practiced efficiency. "The contract specifies—"
"The contract doesn't end until after the ceremony." His hands moved with clinical detachment as he positioned the ceremonial bowl. "I'm within my rights."
The blade bit into my wrist with familiar fire. I watched my heart's blood flow in a steady stream, darker and richer than ordinary blood, carrying with it the spiritual essence that had sustained the Cooper fortune for three years. But this time felt different. Violating. Wrong.
"Why now?" I asked through gritted teeth, fighting the dizziness that always accompanied these sessions. "On the eve of our wedding?"
Ronan's eyes remained fixed on the filling bowl, his expression as distant as a stranger's. "Because she needs it now."
The room tilted slightly as he sealed the final binding. My vision blurred at the edges, exhaustion weighing down my limbs like lead. In all our sessions, he'd never taken this much so close to a previous extraction. My body hadn't recovered from last week's ritual.
"There." He lifted the bowl with both hands, cradling my blood like precious wine. "Rest here for a few minutes before you go."
"Ronan, wait—" I tried to stand, but my legs buckled. "Could you help me to my room?"
He was already at the door, my life force gleaming crimson in the silver bowl. "You'll be fine. You always recover quickly."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the metallic scent of blood and the echo of his indifference. I pressed my palm against the fresh wound, watching crimson seep between my fingers. Tomorrow, this man would promise to love and cherish me. Tonight, he couldn't spare a moment to ensure I didn't collapse on his study floor.
After what felt like hours, I managed to stand. The wedding dress lay forgotten on the rug—I'd retrieve it tomorrow. Right now, I needed to reach my room before my trembling legs gave out entirely.
The corridor swayed as I made my way toward the guest wing, one hand trailing along the wall for support. The Cooper mansion felt different in my weakened state—larger, colder, full of shadows that seemed to whisper warnings I'd been too love-drunk to hear.
Then I heard it. Laughter, warm and intimate, drifting from Avayah's chambers. Ronan's voice, but transformed—tender, affectionate, alive with an emotion I'd never heard him direct at me.
"My love," he murmured, the words carrying clearly through the slightly open door. "Drink slowly. Let it warm you from within."
My feet carried me forward against my will. Through the narrow gap, I saw them—Ronan and Avayah entwined on her four-poster bed, her head resting against his bare chest. He held a silver spoon to her lips, feeding her my blood drop by precious drop.
"Is this from tonight?" Avayah's voice was silk and honey, nothing like the sharp cruelty she usually showed me.
"Fresh from her heart," Ronan confirmed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "The purest I've ever drawn."
Avayah's eyes found mine through the crack in the door. A slow, triumphant smile curved her lips as she pulled Ronan's face down to hers, kissing him with a passion that left no doubt about their relationship. Her gaze never left mine as she whispered against his mouth, "My only one."
I stumbled backward, bile rising in my throat. The man who'd promised to marry me tomorrow was feeding my blood to his adopted sister while calling her his love. The woman who'd tormented me for three years was drinking my life force from his hands like communion wine.
Somehow, I made it to my room before my stomach emptied itself. I retched until nothing remained but bitter truth, then collapsed on my bed and wept until dawn painted the sky the color of spilled blood.
