Our Crimson Covenant: The Sovereign’s Temptation

Chapter Three

“Aeris, come forward,” Helen’s voice suddenly sliced through the dark.

A sharp chill traveled straight down my spine, the tiny hairs on my arms standing on end. Great. She knew I was here the entire time.

I stepped out from behind the thicket. For a fleeting second, I caught a flash of profound defeat in my aunt's eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by an expression I had never seen on her face before.

“Come inside. Let’s have that normal, rational conversation,” she commanded. Her voice was deep, rigid, and dripping with an authority she had never once used on me in my twenty-three years of life. She wasn't asking.

She turned toward the porch, pausing at the threshold. “Your Majesty, feel free to join us.”

She signaled to the runway-model stranger and vanished into the warmly lit cottage. My heart began to hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird as I followed her. Your Majesty? I kept scanning the perimeter, desperately searching for a rogue camera lens or a director hiding in the bushes to put some logical sense into this absolute nonsense.

Nothing. Just the wind.

“Sit down,” Helen exacted the moment I crossed the door. “And I need ten minutes of your ears and mind, Aeris. Not your mouth. You can open it after I’m done talking.”

I sat, suddenly feeling like a reprimanded two-year-old.

“This is the normal, rational conversation you asked for,” Helen said, her tone dead serious. “And for someone of your kind, it is exactly what you need.”

Before I could process her words, Mr. Vampire Prince Cosplayer entered the frame.

He didn't sit. He merely leaned against the heavy wooden doorframe, the top of it lightly brushing against his dark hair as he crossed his arms. He was tall—intimidatingly so, and his sheer size seemed to shrink the entire cottage.

I slightly looked up, only to find his piercing crimson eyes already scouring every inch of my face. His nostrils flared slightly, taking a slow, deliberate breath, as if he were catching a scent. The predatory intensity in his gaze made my throat go dry. He looked completely hyper-focused on me.

I violently snapped myself back from the edge of my thoughts, forcing my composure back into place. I looked away from him, focusing entirely on Helen as she began to speak.

The next ten minutes felt like an absolute fever dream—the most unrealistic reality I had ever experienced. The whole time, the Vampire Prince Cosplayer just watched me with an unreadable, intense stare while I tried to digest the bombshells Helen was dropping.

She stood by every single word of the story she used to tell me. She told me the portal was real. She told me he was real.

“I didn't open the gateway on a whim, Aeris. The magic doesn't work that way. The master sorceress of Drakhengard sent a blood resonance across the veil. He sent the signal.” She cast a nervous, deferential glance toward the giant leaning against the doorframe. “His Majesty was looking for his bound soul. He tracked your bloodline from across dimensions, and the magic forced the portal to tear. It is time for you to go back.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, making my heart violently twinge. Go back. For as long as I could remember, a quiet, aching curiosity had lived inside me. Who were my parents? Were they even alive? I had spent years telling myself that once I climbed the corporate ladder, saved up enough money, and established my career as a researcher in New York, I’d finally hunt down the truth. Helen had always promised she’d tell me everything when the time was right.

Apparently, this was the right time. But it wasn't a file of adoption papers or a DNA test kit. It was a centuries-old prince who had used blood sorcery to hunt me down across dimensions because the universe apparently checked a box next to our names. Helen didn't know who my biological parents were, and she was making it clear that staying here was no longer an option. If I wanted answers about my roots, the only path led through that glowing tear in the woods—and straight into the hands of the arrogant man watching my every move.

My knees felt like absolute jelly. The room was spinning. “I need some air,” I choked out.

Without sparing a single glance at the brooding vampire prince, I pushed past him and strode out of the cottage, stepping back into the freezing night.

My mind was locked in a brutal tug-of-war. Am I having a psychotic break? Am I dreaming? I reached down and aggressively pinched my forearm—the sharp sting immediately flared. I was awake.

How could I just trade away years of grueling study, sleep deprivation, and the dream research job I had just secured in New York, all to chase ghosts in another dimension? But then again... who was I even supposed to be in America if my entire identity was a lie? Would I ever truly belong anywhere if I didn't find out where I came from?

I exhaled my fifth heavy sigh into the crisp air, watching the mist plume before me as I stared into the pitch-black forest.

Minutes later, the air behind me shifted. A deep, velvety voice vibrated right over my shoulder, rich with an elegant, aristocratic cadence that sounded like old European nobility.

“Pray tell, what occupies your thoughts so intensely?” he asked, his tone smooth and perfectly measured.

I swallowed the chaos in my brain, and turned my head slightly, offering a dry smile. “Thinking about where you rented your cute costume, honestly. The velvet is a nice touch.”

I heard a sharp, profoundly offended grunt behind me.

“I do not rent my attire,” he replied, his accent clipping the syllables with haughty offense. “This garment is tailored from midnight silk and structural Drakhengard leather. And it is most certainly not 'cute.' It is the formal regalia of a sovereign.”

I couldn't help the amused chuckle that escaped my lips. The contrast between his extreme gravity and my total disbelief was hilarious. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Your Highness. Then what could possibly exist on this Earth that would make a grand prince leave his kingdom behind just to cross a portal?”

A heavy, suffocating silence fell between us. The wind died down.

“You,” he said. His voice dropped into a deep, gravelly register that seemed to vibrate straight through the soles of my shoes. “I require you.”

My amusement evaporated. I turned around fully, unable to avoid looking at his ridiculously handsome face. The warm candlelight from the cottage window flickered across his sharp features, reflecting in the dark crimson of his eyes. “What?”

“And you require me,” he continued smoothly, stepping a fraction closer. “If you ever hope to discover the truth about your lineage, you will not survive the other realm alone.”

I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms defensively. “How are you so sure I even want to find them? They technically abandoned me in a bloody cloth, remember?”

“Because you are of our world, Aeris.”

He knew my name. And the way it vibrated in a gravelly register from his lips made me feel things that I could not explain. It sounded like he had known me for a very long time, striking a chord deep within my chest that resonated with a dangerous, terrifying warmth. “We are different from this world’s mere humans,” he continued, his upper-class tone ringing with absolute certainty. “Our kind cherishes the bloodline. We are anchored by our roots, our bonds, and the truth of who we are. I know the fire burning in your chest. You will never find peace in this magicless void.”

Something deep inside me twitched, a dangerous spark acknowledging that he was right. But I wasn't about to let him see that. “Look, Mr. Midnight Silk, I'm not here to beat around the bush. What's the catch? Kings don't just fetch abandoned babies out of charity.”

His lips tilted up into a slow, chillingly deliberate smile. He took another step forward, entirely invading my personal space. The scent of him—something like expensive woodsmoke, rain, and raw power—flooded my senses.

“A pragmatic question. Very well,” he murmured, leaning down slightly so his face was level with mine. “The political landscape of my kingdom is fracturing,” he stated flatly, his explanation simple and direct to the point. “My world demands a ruler who sits beside their bound queen.”

I blinked. “Okay... and that relates to me how?”

“I am proposing a marriage of convenience,” he stated flatly, as if he were discussing a trade port negotiation. “You will return with me to Drakhengard. You will wear my crown, stand at my side as my queen. In exchange, the entire intelligence network of the empire will be at your disposal to unearth your lineage. Finding your parents will be a piece of cake.”

I let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. “A marriage? Are you insane? You want me to pack up my life, fly into an alternate dimension, and play the role of your blushing monster bride just so you can win a political game of thrones? Not to mention, legally bind myself to a guy I met ten minutes ago in the woods?”

“It is not merely a legal binding, Aeris,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a dangerously seductive, low purr. He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to my eyes. “The universe has already taken care of the legality. Even though I am not a romantic—I am highly political. But I cannot scrape off the fact that you are my destined mate.”

The word mate finally clicked in a way that made my face flush warm. It was unbelievable. It was completely absurd. But as I looked at the dark forest, the glowing portal marks on the sequoia tree, and the literal say-say vampire prince standing in front of me, I had to admit that nothing had made sense since I got to Scotland anyway.

I leaned back slightly against the porch railing, trying to regain my footing under his intense gaze. I decided to lean into the absurdity. “A destined mate, huh? Wow. The universe really has terrible taste in matchmaking.”

The man’s eyes darkened, a sudden, primal heat flaring in the crimson depths. He didn't back down. Instead, he closed the remaining distance, his tall frame completely blocking out the cold wind. He placed one hand on the railing right next to my waist, trapping me against him.

“Is that so?” he murmured, his breath brushing warm against my cheek. His fangs subtly grazed the edge of his lower lip, a dangerously attractive, predatory display. “And what, precisely, makes the universe's choice so terrible?”

My breath hitched. He sounded offended. The magnetic jolt in my chest flared to life again, hotter this time, making my skin tingle wherever his proximity radiated heat. He was arrogant, he was calculating, and he was trying to use me as a chess piece—but looking at the sharp perfection of his jaw and the intoxicating power rolling off him, I couldn't deny the physical pull.

“Well, for starters,” I said, my voice coming out a little softer than I intended, though I forced a teasing smirk onto my lips, “you’re kind of a control freak, Your Highness. And I don't take orders very well. I feel like your fragile royal ego wouldn't survive a girl who talks back.”

He suddenly leaned in a fraction closer, his eyes locked onto mine with a burning, possessive intensity that sent a thrilling shiver straight down my spine.

“I assure you, my queen,” he whispered, his smooth baritone vibrating right against my ear, “I have lived for centuries, and I have never broken. But I am highly anticipating the attempt.”