His Blood, Her Curse

Chapter 4 – The Crimson Thread

The grand hall was colder tonight.

Luna stood beside a candelabrum shaped like entwined serpents, their golden mouths forever open. The flickering candlelight danced on her face, but her eyes remained fixed on the center of the room—on him.

Lucien sat atop his throne-like chair, one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled under his chin. He didn’t speak. He hadn’t, not since the moment she entered.

“Miss Vega,” said a voice behind her.

Selena.

That silky tone could cut stone.

“You’ve been summoned for a task. Consider it… a test of your value.”

Luna turned, keeping her expression neutral. “What task?”

Selena stepped closer, her crimson gown flowing like blood down marble steps.

“There is a guest in the lower wing. Human. Lost. Curious. Unwelcome. We don’t usually tolerate strays.”

Luna raised a brow. “You want me to escort them out?”

“Escort, eliminate, amuse yourself—whatever suits your style. But make it clean. Lord Lucien hates mess.”

Luna’s eyes flicked toward the throne again. Lucien hadn’t moved, but she felt his gaze like winter air down her spine.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said simply.

Selena smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I bet you will.”

⸻

The lower wing of the Crimson Coven was different—less grand, more… feral.

The walls were rougher, the torches dimmer, and something about the air made Luna’s teeth ache. She moved silently, each step calculated. Her senses strained for sound.

A cough. A breath. A heartbeat.

There.

She found him huddled near a sealed wooden door—young, terrified, his skin pale from blood loss or fear. Maybe both.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly.

The boy looked up. “I—I got lost. I was with the staff. I didn’t know—”

“Quiet.”

She crouched beside him, scanning the area. No immediate threat.

But then… she heard it.

A sound not made by human feet.

Her eyes darted to the shadows—and for a split second, something moved. Fast. Low. Watching.

Someone had set her up.

She didn’t need to guess who.

She looked down at the trembling boy and, for a split second, saw her younger self.

Alone. Afraid. Covered in blood that wasn’t hers.

“You’re not that girl anymore,” she reminded herself.

But her hands… they still trembled when no one was watching.

⸻

Back in the hall, Lucien watched the doorway long before Luna reappeared.

When she did, her dress was torn at the shoulder, a crimson scratch bleeding down her arm.

But the boy was alive.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, just slightly.

Luna approached him without flinching, wiped the blood from her arm with a piece of black cloth, and said:

“Your test is complete. Next time, make it harder.”

Lucien watched the blood trickling down her arm, but it wasn’t the wound that interested him.

It was her defiance.

Most newcomers cowered. She stood there, chin high, challenging the silence itself.

“Who are you, really, Luna Vega?” he thought. “And why do you bleed so beautifully?”

And for the first time, Lucien smiled.

Just barely.

As Luna turned to leave, she passed Selena in the corridor.

Their shoulders brushed. Selena leaned close and whispered:

“You survived. Cute. Let’s see how long that lasts.”