The Manor Bride

Hunger

I couldn’t sleep after what I saw.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers. My heart still hadn’t settled. My lips still remembered his kiss. And my skin still burned from the nearness of his body in the east wing — from the way his mouth had hovered over my throat like a promise left unfulfilled.

I had seen the truth in his eyes.

He wasn’t human.

And yet he had held back.

That was what haunted me most.

At dawn, I finally closed my eyes. Not because I was tired — I was wide awake — but because I couldn’t stand feeling so exposed. So open. Sleep was my only shield.

When I woke, the sun was high, filtering weakly through the thick curtains. A tray of food had been left on the table. Toast, fruit, tea — untouched. Elias hadn’t come. No note. No explanation.

Coward.

Or maybe protector.

Either way, the space he had created between us felt like punishment.

But I wasn’t the same girl who had walked into this manor with a suitcase and desperation. I had seen something in him — in his restraint, in his pain — and it called to something inside me I couldn’t silence.

After dressing, I wandered the halls.

The house was quieter than usual. The staff were nowhere to be seen. The stillness was thick, like the air before a storm.

At the far end of the west corridor, I found a door I hadn’t tried before. It opened to a small library, lined wall to wall with books so old they smelled like secrets. I ran my fingers along the spines, stopping on one that looked particularly worn.

Blood and Bond: The Cursed Lineages.

I opened it, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Illustrations of teeth. Of eyes. Of binding rituals.

A passage read:

When the blood of the marked binds with the cursed, desire becomes hunger, and hunger becomes obsession. The turning is never gentle.

I slammed the book shut.

My hands were shaking.

“Learning something?”

His voice cut through the silence like silk on skin.

I spun. He stood in the doorway, watching me with unreadable eyes.

“Not enough,” I said, breathless. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried.”

“You kissed me.”

“And I stopped.”

“But not because you wanted to.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked.

I should have been afraid.

I wasn’t.

He approached slowly, the way predators do when they’re giving you a chance to run. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. His presence filled the room like heat, like gravity.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Everything.”

I didn’t flinch. “Then take it.”

He was in front of me before I could blink. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back. His breath warmed my lips.

“I’m starving,” he growled.

“Then feed.”

His mouth crashed into mine.

There was no hesitation this time. No control. Just raw, aching need. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming. His hands roamed down my back, pressing me against him until I could feel just how much he wanted me.

When he pulled away, I gasped — not from fear, but from the unbearable emptiness left by his absence.

He kissed my throat. Then lower. Then—

His fangs grazed my skin.

Not enough to break it. Just enough to make me gasp.

“Eliza,” he whispered against my collarbone. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

He froze. I felt the war inside him, the trembling tension in his arms. Then, slowly, he pulled back. His eyes were wild, glowing faintly in the dim light.

“I need to show you something,” he said, voice shaking.

“Now?”

“Yes. Before I do something neither of us can undo.”

He took my hand, and his fingers were ice.

I didn’t care.

Let him lead me.

Let him ruin me.

I was already his.