Page 143 of Haunted Crowns
The voice was wrong. Her body froze. This was not Stephan.
The voice was rough, feral, as if it had waited across centuries. A slow exhale brushed her neck, unfamiliar.
“Did you think I would not find you?”
Her blood turned cold. The arms around her no longer felt like his. They were too strong, too consuming. She sucked in a sharp breath. Then the aura struck her, vile and rotting. It pressed against her with a force that felt ancient and monstrous. It was not just powerful. It was demonic.
Panic climbed her throat as the hold around her tightened.
“You belong to me.” The words wrapped around her like chains, her heart slamming against her ribs. A long pause followed, heavy with silence. Then she heard the name. “Seraphina.”
*Mine.*
She screamed. “NO! LET ME GO!”
She thrashed, jerking wildly, desperate to break free, but the grip only tightened, holding her fast.
She kicked, clawed, and fought with everything she had.
Then she felt hands she knew, Stephan’s hands. They were grounding and real, as they gripped her wrists.
"Eris!"
Her body snapped awake with a sharp, broken gasp as the nightmare released its hold. The room spun. Her chest heaved. Every nerve in her body screamed.
She saw him, his face above hers. "Eris, wake up! It’s me!"
The world rushed back in: Dragov Castle, their bed, Stephan. She sobbed, trembling violently.
He crushed her to his chest, anchoring her in the present. His breath was warm at her temple, his heart pounding just as hard as hers.
"Shh. It’s okay," he murmured, rocking her gently. "It’s over. I’ve got you. You’re safe now."
She buried her face in his shoulder, fingers curling into his skin. The nightmare still clung to her like smoke.
"It was horrible," she choked. "At first, I thought it was you. He held me like you do, secure, familiar. I almost sank into it." Her breath hitched. "But then, I felt it. The strength. The hunger. Like I was his. Like he’d been waiting for me across lifetimes. It wasn’t longing, Stephan. It was possession. Something dark. Consuming. I couldn’t breathe." She paused to catch her breath before continuing. "He called me Seraphina."
Stephan froze. His grip on her back tightened, breath uneven.
That name. That cursed name.
Slowly, he pulled back and cupped her face. His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "Did you see his face?"
She shook her head. "No. He held me from behind. I never saw him. But I felt him." She shivered. "It was suffocating."
He said nothing for a long moment. His thumb brushed her cheek, jaw clenched hard. "It’s over now. I’m here."
But even he didn’t believe that. This wasn’t just a dream. First, the unnatural presence at Mournshadow Lake. Then the castle exhaling like something ancient stirring. Now this. Stephan’s gut twisted. Something was waking. Something was wrong.
Then a thought surged, one so vile and so ancient that it turned his blood to ice.
The one beneath the stone
What if he was waking?
His stomach turned.No. Impossible.
He had been in slumber for centuries. Vampires didn’t rise unless fed blood or power. Every Firstblood knew the story. No one—no one—would dare disturb that tomb. Would they?
