I Was Nothing Until the King Chose Me

Episode 5

I should have slapped him again.

Not because it would fix anything, and definitely not because it would change what was already happening, but because it might have reminded me that I still had control over something in this moment that was slipping too far out of my hands. Instead, I just stood there, staring at him, my chest tight with frustration, confusion, and something far more dangerous that I refused to acknowledge.

“No,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady as I stepped away from him, creating distance that didn’t feel like enough. “Absolutely not. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

The memory of that night came back sharper than I expected. It wasn’t something I could dismiss or pretend didn’t matter. It was vivid. The forest, the tension, the way everything felt different, alive… and him. Especially him. That night had been the first time I felt free from everything suffocating me back home, and somehow it had turned into this, into him, into the mark, into something I didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

“You’re coming with me,” Lysandros said, his tone calm but firm, like the outcome had already been decided. His eyes stayed on mine, steady, watching me in a way that made it feel like he already knew what I would do next. “You can argue it if you want, but it won’t change where this ends.”

I let out a quiet breath, something between disbelief and irritation, and brushed past him as I grabbed his coat, pushing it back into his hands. “You really make everything sound simple when it’s not,” I muttered. “I’m leaving. That’s the only part of this that’s clear.”

The nickname still echoed in my head.

Love.

I hated that it affected me.

I had barely taken a step before his grip closed around my arm, pulling me back against him with enough force to stop me completely. My forehead bumped lightly against his chest, and I pushed at him immediately.

“Let go of me,” I snapped, struggling against him, my frustration rising again. “You don’t get to grab me every time I don’t agree with you.”

A low sound left him, quiet but enough to make my body hesitate for a second longer than it should have.

And I hated that.

“Technically,” Eryon said carefully, glancing between us like he already knew I wouldn’t like what came next, “you can’t really leave.”

I turned sharply. “What do you mean I can’t leave?”

He hesitated, then said it anyway. “He marked you. That means you’re bound to him.”

“Bound?” I repeated, disbelief creeping in. “As in temporarily, right? Because that’s the only version of that word that makes any sense.”

No one answered right away.

That silence said enough.

“For life,” Lyra added.

My stomach dropped.

“For life?” I echoed, my voice quieter now but tighter. “No. That’s not something you just decide for someone else.”

“It’s not a decision,” Lyra said, her gaze fixed on me. “It’s instinct. It happens when mates recognize each other.”

“Mates?” I frowned. “You’re telling me this is some kind of destiny situation?”

“In simple terms, yes,” she replied. “But there’s a problem.”

I let out a short breath. “Of course there is.”

“You’re human,” she said.

“And he’s not just any vampire,” Xenon added.

I glanced at him, then back at Lysandros. “I figured that part out already.”

“He’s pure-blooded, born into it,” Xenon continued, his tone more serious now as he held my gaze for a second longer than necessary. “There are only a few like him.”

That settled more heavily than I expected.

“Okay… and that matters because…?” I asked, my voice quieter now, but edged with something sharper, like I was bracing myself for an answer I wasn’t going to like.

“Because pure-bloods don’t mate outside their kind,” he said, and that was it, no hesitation, no softening.

Silence followed, stretching just long enough to feel uncomfortable, and I slowly turned back to Lysandros, studying him more carefully now, like I was trying to see something I had missed before. “So explain to me,” I said, my voice controlled but firm, “how I somehow broke rules I didn’t even know existed.”

He didn’t hesitate. “You didn’t break anything,” he said calmly. “It happened.”

“That’s not an explanation,” I shot back, stepping closer again without thinking, frustration slipping through as my brows pulled together. “That’s you avoiding the part where this is supposed to make sense,” and his hand tightened slightly at my waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to steady me, to pull my attention back to him completely.

“You’re my mate,” he said, his voice lower now, more deliberate, like the words mattered more than everything else being said around us. “That’s all that matters.”

My breath caught, just slightly.

“That’s not enough,” I said, even though my voice softened despite myself. “I don’t even know your real name,” and the small smirk that followed only made my frustration spike again.

“You will,” he replied, like that was supposed to solve something.

It didn’t.

Voices started rising behind us again, overlapping, questioning, accusing, fragments of doubt and suspicion slipping into the air, but before any of it could turn into something worse, his voice cut through it. “Enough.”

The single word wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. Silence followed instantly, and I felt his arm tighten slightly around me, not possessive in a way that trapped me, but protective in a way that made something in my chest shift whether I liked it or not.

“No one speaks about her like that,” Lysandros said, his tone lower now, edged with something dangerous. “I’ve tasted her blood. She’s human. That’s not up for debate,” and I didn’t react outwardly, didn’t let anything show, but I felt it, that strange, unfamiliar sense of being defended.

Still, something caught my attention.

“Wait,” I said, glancing up at him, studying his expression more carefully. “They mentioned someone else,” and the shift in him was immediate, subtle but sharp enough for me to notice.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice colder now, the air around us tightening slightly. “Don’t bring that up.”

That was all I needed.

“So there was someone,” I said quietly, watching him closely, and he met my gaze without hesitation.

“There wasn’t,” he replied. “Not in a way that matters.”

That sounded like unfinished business.

I let it go for now, but only just. “We’ll come back to that,” I muttered, more to myself than to him, and his hand shifted again, firmer this time as he guided me forward.

“We’re leaving.”

I resisted immediately, pulling slightly against him as I frowned. “Hold on. You don’t just drag me into a castle full of vampires and expect me to be fine with it,” I said, my voice tightening with real concern now. “How do I know I’m not walking into a situation where I become the next meal?”

His grip steadied, his expression unchanged as he answered, “You won’t. No one touches you. No one even considers it without answering to me,” and there was something about the way he said it, not loud, not forceful, just certain, that made me pause.

I searched his face for doubt.

There wasn’t any.

“I’m holding you to that,” I said finally.

“I expect you to,” he replied.

The carriage ride felt strange, not tense, not calm, just different, like everything had shifted and I hadn’t fully caught up yet. After a while, I glanced at the three across from us, noticing the way their eyes kept flicking between me and him, and I sighed softly before asking, “Do you all hate me or something? Because the staring is starting to feel personal.”

“No,” Kallix answered simply, though his gaze lingered briefly on Lysandros’s arm around me before shifting away.

“Did anyone follow you?” Xenon asked, his tone more controlled now.

I shook my head. “If someone tried, I doubt he’d allow it,” I said, nodding slightly toward Lysandros. “He doesn’t seem like the type to miss something like that.”

A quiet chuckle left him at that.

“You’re adjusting faster than expected,” Lyra said, a small smile forming. “Most people would still be panicking.”

“I am panicking,” I replied honestly, glancing at her. “I just talk through it instead of screaming.”

She laughed softly. “That explains a lot.”

“I like her,” I added, glancing briefly at Lysandros, and he leaned slightly closer, his voice lowering near my ear as he said, “You’ll be seeing a lot of her,” the words brushing against me in a way that made my focus shift again.

His fingers moved lightly against my side, subtle, but enough.

“What about me?” he asked quietly, his tone more personal now. “Do you like me yet?”

I glanced at him, then away, ignoring the way that question settled deeper than it should have. “That’s still under review,” I muttered, and the faint curve of his lips told me he didn’t mind that answer nearly as much as he should have.

By the time the castle came into view, everything shifted again, the atmosphere growing heavier, more real. “How long until the preparations are complete?” Lysandros asked, his tone more serious now.

“Two weeks,” Xenon answered.

He nodded once. “Good.”

I turned my attention back to the window, watching the frost-covered path as the castle grew larger with every second, my thoughts finally catching up to everything that had just happened, and for the first time since this started, a realization settled in, quiet but undeniable.

This wasn’t something I had stepped into for a moment.

This was something that had already taken hold of me.

And I had no idea what it was going to cost me.