The Trap

AYA

I woke up with a spinning head and a body full of aches. My eyes blinked open, adjusting quickly to the harsh brightness.

I found myself suspended above a vast room. A lengthy white marble floor lay beneath me, flanked by towering white columns and a massive wooden door. The grand hall was adorned with vibrant fabrics—a touch of home in an otherwise foreign setting.

From my vantage point on the second floor, I could see the colorful curtains fluttering, barely shielding the sunlight that filtered through the stained-glass windows. A single golden rope, knotted at the base of a column, held all the curtains together.

The hall was sweltering, the sun’s heat palpable even through the curtains. Below me, the space was barren except for a lone chair in the center.

My arms throbbed, muscles straining under the weight of my body. The metallic scent of my blood hung heavy in the air. My hair, matted with dried blood and pine needles, framed my face.

I was hanging. A slight shift confirmed that my arms were hoisted above me, shackled together, and I dangled from a long chain attached to the ceiling. My ankles were also chained, secured to the wall behind me, causing me to swing above the heated hall.

My throat felt like it was on fire. A small movement of my head confirmed that my collarbone had healed, but the pain in my chest persisted. Glancing down, I winced at the sight of the arrow protruding from my chest. My blood had dried on the wood, staining my clothes. Each movement sent a wave of pain through me—the arrow preventing my wounds from healing.

I was slowly bleeding out.

I scanned the room, searching for any sign of Alexander, but it was eerily quiet and empty. His scent was absent from the air. He wasn’t here with me.

My mind raced. We had been together. It had been real. He had been mine. My Alex. Not the prince.

Then the attack happened. The memory of the pain was still fresh. He had fought fiercely, his roars still echoing in my mind. The sight of him, bloodied and pinned down, was etched into my memory. His crimson gaze had held mine, offering a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

No.

The next thing I remembered was being hauled away by a henchman, each jostle sending waves of pain through me.

Panic surged within me, hot and acidic.

What happened to Alexander? He had to be here, trapped like me. He ~had~ to be.

I writhed against my chains, gasping as the arrow in my chest shifted. My heart pounded, pushing more blood out of my wound. I watched as my blood dripped down to the marble floor below. The sound of each drop hitting the stone echoed in my head, a grim reminder of the pool of blood that had already formed.

Horrified, I went limp.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

I took a deep breath, steadying my heart, slowing the bleeding. My throat was parched; I needed to feed soon or I would bleed out entirely.

The sun’s heat was intense, suggesting it was midday. I closed my eyes, listening.

There were rats scurrying somewhere, birds chirping outside, and a dog barking in the distance. I could hear human voices from nearby houses, but the hall—the building I was in—was eerily silent.

I took another deep breath, but the smell of my own blood was overpowering, masking all other scents.

Alexander wasn’t here. I was sure I would have been able to smell him, feel his presence.

In all my years since the revolution, I had never been in such a predicament with other vampires. Before meeting Tom, I had kept my distance from other vampires. Even after joining him, despite his many friends, I had kept to myself.

I had encountered my fair share of vampires in the manor, serving the royal family.

So, if I found myself suspended from a ceiling in broad daylight, it wasn’t because of my own actions. It was because Alexander loved me, and they were using me as bait to lure him in. They were using me to inflict pain on him.

I was determined not to let that happen. I refused to be used as a pawn, like his grandfather had used me. I wouldn’t be Alexander’s weakness. I would be his strength.

This also suggested that they hadn’t captured him. He was still out there, somewhere.

I winced in pain as I shifted my position, pushing with my legs and contracting my abs to alleviate the strain on my arms. I swayed slightly, blood dripping down to the puddle below. The new position put more pressure on my legs, but it allowed me to roll my shoulders and flex my fingers.

There weren’t many options for escape, and the sunlight streaming in suggested I wouldn’t get far—not even out of this hall—for several more hours.

But maybe, just maybe, I could feed.

The cuffs on my wrists were tight, biting into my skin as they bore my weight. They seemed to be made of iron, which meant I couldn’t easily break them. But my hand—my hand—was breakable.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself and avoid jostling the arrow, I grabbed my right hand with my left and squeezed. Pain shot through my arm, and I gasped as I felt my bones shatter under my grip. My right hand was on fire as I pulled it through the cuffs.

Suddenly, movement caught my eye, and the nearest curtain was drawn back.

Blinding sunlight hit me, and I screamed. It felt like I was on fire, the heat licking up my entire body. My muscles spasmed, my body shuddered, shaking the arrow lodged in my chest. I screamed again.

The curtain was hastily drawn back over the window, and I gasped in pain. I panted slowly, feeling my wounds begin to knit themselves back together. My right hand, now hanging limply at my side, was healing as I hung from my left arm. My blood continued to drip onto the floor below.

“I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” a voice echoed through the hall. “It will only make things worse. If you lose too much blood, you won’t be able to heal at all. I don’t have much use for a corpse.”

I squinted at the figure of a man who had pushed open the large doors and was now striding into the hall. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, and I quickly realized why. He was human.

The sweet scent of his blood reached me, making my throat burn and my mouth water. I hissed in response.

The man was human, but he was dressed in a dark green suit, bearing the Shahalia insignia on his right breast. His dark hair was cut short, peppered with gray. His dark eyes met mine.

I had heard of the Shahalia keeping human servants, much like the royal family—Alexander’s family—did. To survive in the human world, humans were necessary. This man, however, seemed to carry himself with a sense of self-importance that was unusual for a servant.

I watched as he walked over to the puddle of my blood, knelt down, and ran a finger through it. He lifted his finger, now coated in my blood, to his lips and sucked it off. His moan of pleasure sent a wave of revulsion through me.

He smirked up at me.

“Delicious,” he murmured. “I wonder, when will I get a taste straight from the source?”

I hissed, utterly disgusted. Vampire blood was an aphrodisiac to both humans and vampires. But mine wasn’t for him to enjoy.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my disgust. He obviously knew a lot about vampires; he’d obviously already fed from them, which meant he probably slept with them. Which also meant he was probably held in high regard by the Shahalia family.

“I have heard your name is Aya,” he murmured, stepping back a bit to meet my gaze. “Welcome to my home, Aya,” he switched from French to Arabic—my native tongue. His accent was strong, but it was clear he was fluent.

I glared at him. My wounds had finally fully healed, but I felt drained. The scent of his blood filled the hall, making my throat burn. My eyes turned crimson as I tracked his movements.

“Are you thirsty, little vampire?” he continued in Arabic. “I can tell you are. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

I hissed, wincing at the slight movement and the pain radiating from the arrow.

He puckered his lips at me. “You were a sight for sore eyes when they hauled you in last night. I did suggest they take out the arrow, but they thought it best to leave it in.”

“By ~they~, I presume you mean the Shahalia clan?” My voice was a raspy whisper, and I wondered how much I had screamed.

His eyes sparkled with a dark amusement. “Ah, she speaks! Yes, indeed. You’re in Shahalia territory.”

“How long have you been in their employ?” I asked, my voice raspy.

He flashed a grin. “Employed by them? Not quite! I’m family. They adopted me.”

I furrowed my brows, watching him stride around the room. Adoption. It was a concept unheard of before the current queen. I hadn’t known of many pure-blood families considering it, but it was something Alexander had mentioned. Clearly, it was a strategy the Shahalia clan was exploiting. No human servant could match the loyalty of one they raised as their own.

“In return for my services, I enjoy the protection of my family and any other pleasures I choose to indulge in,” he said, his grin irking me. “And you, little vampire, are a pleasure I’m eager to indulge in.”

His intentions were clear, and I recoiled in revulsion.

“I’ll break your neck before you lay a finger on me,” I growled.

He merely laughed. “How often do you think I’ve heard that threat? You’ll crumble for me. You’ll crumble, and then you’ll be mine.”

I growled at him, ignoring the pain in my chest. “You’ve got it all wrong, little man,” I retorted. “I’ll strangle you and bathe in your guts before I let your grubby little hands touch me.”

My chains clinked as I shifted, hanging above him. He scowled, stepped back, and yanked the cord attached to the curtains. With a strong pull, they drew back, exposing me to the harsh sunlight.

I gasped as the heat seared my skin, and my blood felt like it was boiling.

“Feel the burn?” he sneered, his voice echoing in my mind.

I hissed, struggling against my chains, my heart pounding.

“I’m the one who holds your life in my hands here, sweetheart,” he snarled, drawing the curtains closed again.

I slumped in my chains, my heart racing, my skin still sizzling. My vision blurred as I watched my blood drip onto the floor. My chest heaved.

“If you try anything else, I’ll watch you burn, and I’ll enjoy it,” he said, his voice eerily calm.

I watched him pace the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He glanced at his watch.

“All right,” he seemed satisfied with my silence. “Now, you’ll hang here and stay still, or you’ll bleed out before he arrives,” he warned.

His words confirmed my earlier suspicion. I was bait. Literally hanging by a thread, bait for Alexander. This meant he probably killed the henchmen who were holding him down, and they had a trap set for him.

“I won’t let you use me as bait. And he’s smarter than that. He won’t walk into your trap,” I growled.

“A man in love is a fool,” he replied. “He’ll surrender himself when I threaten your life. He’ll kneel before me, begging for your safety.”

“You want to humiliate him,” I realized. “Do you even plan to hand him over to the queen for the bounty?”

His laughter sent a chill down my spine. “Where’s the fun in that? A fallen prince, a disgraced prince, is more valuable to me, doing my bidding, submitting himself, than any bounty the queen could offer.”

I hissed, anger surging within me. I had heard of underground arenas where vampires could watch fights, erotic shows, or even buy slaves. Turned vampires and some extremely unlucky humans were the victims of such criminal pureblood families. The thought of a pureblood, captured and used in such a way, was unthinkable.

And yet, how many would delight in seeing Alexander, chained, submissive, and humiliated? Many. Many would pay and would want to use him.

A shiver of dread ran down my spine. The intentions of this vile man were clear as day—he’d made no secret of them. He planned to use me as bait to ensnare Alexander, but he had no intention of setting me free. Instead, he’d keep me alive, a puppet to manipulate Alexander’s actions. And knowing Alexander as I did, I knew he’d comply. We’d been torn apart before, and it had brought out the worst in us. He would surrender himself for me, just as I knew, deep down, I would do for him.

“Alexander doesn’t love me,” I spat out, my voice laced with bitterness. “He won’t give himself up for me.”

The man let out a derisive snort. “I’ve heard whispers about you, about the prince wanting to forsake his title to elope with you. The late king was so worried he used you to keep his grandson in check—for a hundred years. I believe I can do the same, for even longer.”

“Alexander wasn’t controlled through me. He didn’t love me.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” he sneered. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because the late king found a use for you. That’s all the evidence I need. That, and the fact that he massacred my men just to rush back to you last night.”

I stiffened. He’d killed them all?

“I plan on exploiting both of you for centuries to come,” he chuckled. “Because I’m certain you’d sacrifice your life for him too, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

“You won’t be around in centuries,” I retorted.

“I will have been turned by then,” he shot back.

I scoffed. “Is that what they told you? Didn’t they mention the countless humans who have served them? Where are they now? Drained.”

His face hardened. “When he’s dragged into this room, when he’s under my control, I will pull you down from there and have my fucking way with you, right in front of him. You will both learn your place!”

He yanked the curtain rope with force, and the room was instantly flooded with blinding sunlight.

I screamed, my skin searing, my blood boiling. He laughed, a cruel, mocking laugh, as I writhed in my chains, my heart pounding, blood spilling from my chest onto the floor.

Finally, he drew the curtains again. I hissed in pain. My vision was blurred, my skin a fiery red, scorched. I could still feel my heart thumping, my blood trickling down my chest.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Aya,” he called out, moving toward the back of the room.

I squinted at him through my blurry vision.

“Fuck that,” I hissed, too quietly for his weak human ears to hear.

I lifted a throbbing arm and clutched my wrist, still chained. With a sickening crunch, I crushed my left hand and slid it out of the cuffs.

For a brief moment, I was free-falling, but the chains around my ankles jerked me back. I swung meters above the marble floor.

The sound of the chains had caught his attention; he spun around to see me curled up, reaching for my ankles.

He yanked the rope in his hand, and all the curtains swung open.

I screamed as the scorching sunlight hit me. My body convulsed in pain. Somehow, I managed to grab my ankle chain with my broken hand and yank it from the wall with my other hand.

I landed heavily on the marble floor in a pool of my own blood. The burning sunlight pierced through me, tearing my skin, boiling my blood.

I gasped, unable to make a sound. But I was down, my ankles still chained, dragging a long chain behind me. I twisted in the blood puddle, locking eyes with him. He was making a run for the door.

I hissed.

I propelled myself forward, the last of my strength launching me into the air, soaring high. I landed on top of him, knocking him down with my broken hand.

He screamed and crashed to the ground. I quickly grabbed the curtain cord and pulled it closed, while keeping a hand on his chest, pinning him down.

Once the curtains were closed, I took a deep breath, my skin still tingling, my heart racing, but his fear was a sweet scent filling the room.

I slowly turned to look down at him. He reeked of fear, his eyes wide, his movements frantic as he tried to push me off. But I was immovable.

I bared my fangs, my crimson eyes holding his terrified gaze.

“What was that you mentioned earlier?” I asked, my voice soft. “Something about losing blood? Being thirsty? Well, I think you’re right.” I flashed him a smile, the air heavy with the smell of his fear.

“Please, I beg you,” he whimpered. “I can help you get out. I can guide you past the guards,” he pleaded.

I let out a low growl.

“I think I prefer the snack,” I retorted, yanking his head up in a swift motion. He let out a piercing scream. “Too bad your family isn’t here to rescue you,” I taunted, sinking my teeth into his neck.

His skin split open; the sound of his veins bursting was like a symphony to my ears. His life force flowed into me. I could feel his feeble attempts to fight back, his fists weakly pushing against me. But I was indifferent. I drank deeply, feeling my injuries mend, feeling my strength return.

By the time he was empty, my thirst was still unquenched. I rose to my feet, pushing his lifeless body aside. My body was still trembling from the ordeal, but I could feel my heart rate slowing.

I reached for the arrow embedded in my chest. It had broken during my fall. I yanked it out.

Pain surged through me, and I grunted, discarding the arrow. I bent down to remove the chains from my ankles and flexed my newly healed hands. His fresh blood had worked wonders on my healing abilities.

I made my way toward the large doors. The warmth radiating from the other side indicated they led outside, which meant I was still trapped in here. It also explained why no one had come to the aid of the pathetic human.

I leaned against the door, my gaze falling on his drained body.

Now, all I had to do was wait.