Chapter 4: Blood-Red Rose
1678 Words
The lights went out.
Not a blackout—every light in the building died at once.
Evelyn froze at her worktable, design pen still in her fingers. Darkness flooded the room like ink. And then—the Mark on her collarbone ignited.
Silver-gold light throbbed beneath her skin, a living thing, a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.
She heard her own heartbeat. One. Two. On the third—
Pine musk washed over her from behind.
Strong hands spun her around, lifting her onto the worktable before she could breathe. A thumb found that spot—that raw, aching place no one had ever touched—and pressed. Her gland screamed—a silent, primal sound that echoed in her bones.
"Wait—"
He lowered his head and slammed his mouth onto hers.
No hesitation. No gentleness. Only taking. Like a beast finally sinking its teeth into prey. His tongue branded hers, claiming, devouring, like he'd waited five centuries just for this taste—like he was pouring five centuries of loneliness straight into her mouth.
Evelyn's knees completely gave out. The design pen slipped from her fingers, bounced twice on the floor, and rolled into the darkness.
She wanted to push him away, but her hands only clutched weakly at his shirt. She wanted to bite him, but the moment her teeth tensed, he only invaded deeper.
Something ancient inside her, sleeping for twenty-eight years, ripped awake and roared—threatening to shatter her control, to spill every drop of longing she'd ever buried.
The whole world narrowed to his burning breath and that pine musk that drove her crazy—wild, cold, claiming every breath she took.
She didn't know how long passed before he finally let her go.
She hung limp in his arms, gasping, the corner of her mouth still glistening with a silver thread of saliva. In the darkness, she couldn't see his face, but she could see those golden eyes, burning with something that made her legs weak.
"You... you're crazy..." Her voice was hoarse, didn't sound like herself.
"Five hundred years." His voice was low, ground out from deep in his chest, his thumb brushing her swollen, kissed-red lips. "I've waited five hundred years. Did you think I could still hold back from touching you? Did you think I could stand here and not claim what's mine?"
Evelyn's breathing went ragged again.
Moonlight slipped through the curtain gap, outlining his silhouette.
Clearer than in her vision. More real. More dangerous.
"You've been watching me." Her hands were still clutching his shirt, knuckles white. "Since the moment I got the necklace, you've been there. The bodies in the hallway—your work?"
He didn't deny it.
"Anyone who touches you, I'll make sure there's nothing left to bury."
"Five hundred years." He repeated, his voice carrying the texture of sand grinding against rock. "I waited five hundred years for someone who could wear it. For someone who could make it come alive."
He raised his hand, fingertips touching the burning Mark on her collarbone—
Thump.
A heartbeat exploded from somewhere deeper than sound.
Not hers.
His.
"You're afraid." Another statement, no mockery in his tone, only something she couldn't read—something that looked almost like reverence. "But you're also responding."
"I'm not—"
"Your gland is on fire." His thumb brushed that spot, not hard, not soft, but enough to freeze her entire body. "It's screaming my name."
"Your heart is chasing my rhythm. Your body knows me. Faster than your mind."
Evelyn wanted to argue, but she couldn't speak.
Because he lowered his head, nose almost touching her neck, and inhaled deep.
"The first time you touched the necklace, you saw me." His voice was low. "Beneath the twin moons. On the frozen moss. You felt it."
"That was a hallucination—"
"That was memory." His lips almost brushed her ear, warm breath burrowing in, like it wanted to carve itself into her mind. "Your body's memory. You've been waiting for me too."
Evelyn's pupils contracted.
"Five hundred years... what do you mean?"
He didn't answer.
Outside the window, clouds parted. Moonlight flooded in.
For the first time, Evelyn truly saw his face.
Golden eyes. Chiseled features. A pale gold scar slashed from his left eye to his jaw—ancient, beautiful, a story carved in flesh.
"Your face..."
"Five hundred years ago." He said it casually, like telling someone else's story. "Someone tried to kill me. I survived. This is what I kept."
Evelyn looked at that scar, and her heart clenched so hard she felt it in her throat.
It was too deep, too close. One inch away from taking his life.
—Not fear of death. Fear of almost never having met him at all.
"You've been waiting for someone?"
"For someone who could wear it. For someone who could make it come alive." He looked down at her, something in those golden eyes that she couldn't read—something so heavy it made her knees go weak. "Make it come alive."
He paused.
"For someone... who could kill me."
Evelyn's blood went cold.
"What?"
He didn't explain. He just pulled a black card from his pocket and placed it in her hand.
Charcoal paper. Cold sandalwood. Gold letters breathing in the dark:
"Twin Moons Night. Tower's Peak. I'll be waiting.—A"
"Three days." He said. "Full moon. Ruins Cathedral. The Covenant wants you there. But the real meeting..."
He raised his finger, tapping the card.
"...is here."
Evelyn stared at the card, at that single letter "A" burning into her mind, her heart pounding.
"Why me?"
He was silent for a long time.
So long she thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he reached out, gently tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet those golden eyes.
"Mine." His voice was low, ground out from deep in his chest, low like a prayer. "Because you made my mark burn. Because you made my soul answer."
Evelyn's legs really gave out. Not from fear—from something in those words, something too heavy to stand under, something that made her knees buckle.
His figure began to fade, dissolving into the darkness.
"Wait—"
He stopped.
"What's your name?"
In the moonlight, the corner of his mouth curved up.
"Alexander." He said. "Alexander Quantum."
Then he was gone.
Only the black card remained. And the Mark on her collarbone, still pulsing wildly.
Evelyn collapsed at her worktable, gasping.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
"See that?"
Zarina's voice slithered through the speaker—silk wrapped around a blade, carrying a smile.
"He came to you. How touching."
"What do you want?"
"Me?" A soft laugh. "I just want to remind you of something, sweetheart. He didn't choose you. Your blood did."
A pause.
"That mark inside you? It's half his soul. He searched five hundred years—not for love. Because only you could make that half wake up and purr. Only you could make him whole."
Click.
The line went dead.
Evelyn stared at the black card in her palm. At the letter "A."
Five hundred years... he carved out his own soul...
Her fingers went cold.
Did he search for me because he loves me—or because I carry half of him?
Her heart twisted. She tried to kill the thought, but it coiled around her like a snake, tighter and tighter.
A cold wind rushed through the window.
On the windowsill, another rose appeared.
Blood-red. A single drop of dark purple blood on its petals, glowing faintly in the dark.
Not him. Not this time.
Evelyn picked up the rose. As if possessed, her tongue flicked out, tasting that drop of purple blood—cold, wrong, electric.
Images exploded in her mind.
She saw a young man.
The same face as Alexander, but completely different eyes—purple-gold, twin abysses that had never seen light. He was torn from the light, cast into endless darkness. In the abyss, he struggled, devoured, killed, survived on mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
He raised his head. Those purple-gold eyes pierced through the void, staring straight at her—eyes filled with five hundred years of torn-apart hatred and longing.
"Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned?" His voice was soft, but it carved into her heart like a blade—deep, precise, leaving scars that would never heal. "You don't. But you will."
The vision shattered.
Evelyn screamed and dropped the rose. It turned to ashes in her palm, purple-black embers slipping through her fingers, smoking, dying, like the ghost of something that should never have been born.
Outside the window, a spark of gold lit the top of that tower.
Thump.
A heartbeat. From somewhere deeper than sound.
Not hers.
His.
She stared at the tower. In her stubborn eyes, something was taking root, beginning to grow.
"Three days." She whispered, clutching the card in her palm. "I can't wait. Three days feels like three more centuries."
✦✦✦ End of Chapter 4 ✦✦✦
【 🐺 Author's Note 🐺 】
💎 "Mine." — He waited five centuries, carved out his own soul as the price, just for this moment. Did that word make your heart stop?
👁️ The boy in the blood. Same face as Alexander, but eyes like twin abysses. "Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned?" Who is he? And why does he know her name?
💔 "Not for love." Zarina's blade found its mark. But if it's only destiny—why did his hands tremble when he touched her?
🌕 Three days. Twin Moons. The Tower. She clutched the card and whispered, "I can't wait."
🔥 SUSPENSE VOTE: What happens next?
A. Evelyn goes to the Tower—and the truth of five centuries unfolds 🐺
B. The Covenant strikes first—blood in the Ruins Cathedral ⚔️
C. The boy in the blood steps through the mirror—and everything changes 👁️
- Writer
