The castle at night was a whole different creature.
No servants bustling. No murmured voices.
Just endless, echoing halls and the heavy, watchful weight of ancient stone pressing down.
It smelled like dust, old stone, and magic long since dried up.
Not that the vampires could smell it the way I could.
I slipped down the hallway in perfect silence, claws sheathed, every muscle coiled and ready under my skin.
Being a Caracal wildcat shifter had its perks — like moving without making a sound, even in boots.
"You are an idiot," I muttered to myself, ears twitching at every creak and whisper of the ancient building.
But I had to know what happened to my mother.The rumors that she'd been killed by the vampires never sat right.
Everyone else had accepted the story: she went on an expedition to meet the vampires. She crossed the wrong people. She died. I never had. And I was going to proof that it wasn't true.
I barely made it three steps before a hand clamped around my wrist.
I twisted instinctively, claws pricking out under my skin — but before I could even think about shifting, he yanked me sharply toward him.
The vampire prince.
Every inch of him was carved from cold rage.
"What exactly," he said, voice low and lethal, "do you think you're doing?"
I tried — tried — to tug my wrist free. No luck.
He wasn't hurting me, but the steel in his grip made it very clear: I wasn't going anywhere.
"Taking in the view," I said breezily. "Lovely stonework. So... grey. So depressing. Five stars."
His eyes narrowed.
Without another word, he turned and started dragging me down the hall.
Literally dragging.
Like I was some misbehaving kitten who had knocked over the royal china.
"Hey!" I snapped, stumbling to keep up. "I can walk, you know! Some of us have legs!"
"You forfeited the right to walk freely when you decided to skulk around like a thief," he said, not even glancing at me.
He was furious.
Not the icy, amused kind of anger he usually hid behind silk and sarcasm — no, this was the real thing.
Ruthless. Sharp. Barely controlled.
And stupidly, my chest squeezed — not from fear.
From something far worse: humiliation.
I yanked at my arm again.
"Let go of me, bloodsucker," I hissed.
He didn't.
If anything, his hand tightened a fraction.
"You think I'm stupid?" he said. "That I would let a little snake like you slither through my home unchecked?"
The insult stung harder than it should have.
Probably because it was exactly what everyone else thought too.
Untrustworthy.
Ruined.
Disposable.
"News flash," I snapped, "I wasn't stealing your precious goblets or selling your castle blueprints to the highest bidder, okay?"
He laughed — a cold, mirthless sound.
"No?" he said, yanking open a heavy oak door — my room — and shoving me through it with zero ceremony.
"Then what were you doing? Taking a midnight tour? Admiring the mold in the dungeons?"
I whirled on him, furious, chest heaving.
"I. Have. No. Ulterior. Motives," I growled.
His smile was razor-sharp.
"You always do," he said softly. "People like you always do."
Something in me cracked at that — brittle and ugly.
"You don't know anything about me," I said, voice shaking despite everything.
He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze burning into mine.
"Good thing that'll change soon." he said silkily, "don't say I didn't warn you."
"Warned me?" I said, incredulous.
He smiled, slow and vicious.
"At dinner. Remember?"
He stepped closer.
"I said I would find the truth. That I would meet your family. That I would expose whatever little scheme you came here with."
His gaze raked over me, disgusted and amused all at once.
"And look at you. Caught prowling through the halls like a common thief, not even twenty-four hours later."
I bristled so hard my bones practically rattled.
"I wasn't spying," I said through gritted teeth. "Or stealing. Or whatever it is your paranoid little brain has cooked up."
He tilted his head, studying me like a cat toying with a half-dead bird.
"Then tell me," he said, voice mocking, "what exactly were you doing?"
I opened my mouth — then snapped it shut.
Because what was I supposed to say?
Oh, nothing serious, just poking around trying to find out if your people murdered my mother, don't mind me!
Yeah. That would go over great.
He took my silence as surrender, of course.
Smirking, he leaned down, bringing his mouth just close enough to make my heart hammer against my ribs.
"Exactly what I thought," he murmured.
I curled my hands into fists to keep from clawing his face off.
"You're wrong," I ground out. "I don't have ulterior motives."
"No?" he said, mocking. "Then you won't mind when I pay your dear family a visit."
I froze.
That threat, made so casually over dinner, was suddenly razor-sharp and real again.
He saw it — saw the way my jaw tightened, the way my pupils narrowed just slightly.
And he smiled, slow and poisonous.
"Goodnight, little cat," he said, backing away.
And then he shut the door — and locked it — leaving me standing there alone, seething.
I hated him.
I hated that he thought he could control me.
I hated that he thought he knew me.
And worst of all...
I hated that some part of me, deep down, wanted to prove him wrong.
Which meant I had to be even smarter.
The next day:
I woke up to the smell of rich wood smoke and the distant clang of bells.
And to the extremely unpleasant sight of the vampire prince standing at the foot of my bed.
I sat up so fast I almost headbutted him.
"Ever heard of knocking?" I snapped, raking a hand through my sleep-mussed hair.
He didn't smile.
Didn't even blink.
"New rules," he said, crisp as a guillotine.
I blinked blearily.
"Rules? What am I, five?"
He didn't rise to the bait.
Just pulled a small, leather-bound book from under his arm and tossed it onto the bed.
It landed with a solid thump.
"Curfew is now sundown," he said coolly. "You will attend dinner on time, every night. You will not leave your quarters after dark without permission."
I opened my mouth to argue — he cut me off with a glare sharp enough to skin a bear.
"You will also perform daily chores to contribute to the household."
I stared at him, utterly floored.
"Chores?" I echoed. "What am I, a scullery maid now?"
His mouth twitched — the tiniest hint of smugness breaking through.
"You'll find the list on page three," he said. "Laundry. Dishwashing. Stable mucking."
A pause.
"I'm told caracals enjoy digging in the dirt. Consider it enrichment."
I wanted to claw his pretty face off.
But instead, I gave him a brittle, saccharine smile.
"Of course, Your Highness," I said sweetly. "Anything to make myself useful."
His eyes glinted. He knew exactly how much it grated.
"One more thing," he said, flipping casually through a set of keys dangling from his belt.
"The East Wing is strictly forbidden. Enter it, and I will consider it an act of treason."
East Wing.
Got it.
Blatantly obvious secret is blatantly obvious.
Every instinct in my body screamed: there's something there. But I can't risk getting caught again. So it'll be better if I lay low and try to get him to trust me a little bit.
So outwardly, I just yawned and flopped back on the bed.
"Noted," I said. "Stay out of your precious vampire man-cave. Got it."
His jaw ticked, but he ignored me.
Instead, he said, far too casually, "Get dressed."
I froze mid-yawn. I was confused, what did he mean by that?
"Why?" I asked, suspicious.
"Because," he said, "we're paying your family a visit."
I stared at him, heartbeat slamming against my ribs.
He smiled — a smile so cold and cutting it could've sliced stone.
"I look forward," he said softly, "to seeing what made you."
And then he was gone, leaving the door swinging shut behind him and my stomach somewhere down around my ankles.
I let myself flop backwards dramatically onto the mattress.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
Because what every girl dreams of is dragging her mortal enemy home to meet her deeply disappointed father.
I stared up at the cracked ceiling, wondering how exactly the hell my life had ended up here.
Oh right.
My mother getting missing after traveling by sea to form an alliance the vampires and never returning. And most people I trusted betraying me. And now I have to put up to some stuck up vampire prince if I want the truth.
Right.
I groaned and kicked the stupid leather rulebook off the bed.
If I was going to survive this disaster, I needed to play my cards right.
Lay low. Smile. Pretend to be harmless. Try to gain his trust.
And maybe — just maybe — find out what exactly he was hiding in that forbidden wing.
Game on, bloodsucker.
Game. On.