Chapter 4 Bound by His Rules

The faint echo of approaching footsteps jolted Zita from her restless sleep.

For a brief moment, she forgot where she was. The luxurious silk sheets beneath her were unfamiliar, far too soft compared to the rough fabric she had known all her life. Then reality crashed down on her-she was in the vampire prince's castle.

The heavy doors creaked open, and a tall, poised woman entered. Unlike the guards or the other vampires Zita had encountered, she moved with a calm grace, her demeanor one of quiet authority. Her long black hair flowed down her back, and her sharp features gave her an otherworldly beauty.

She regarded Zita with mild curiosity, not the hunger or cruelty she had come to expect.

"The prince has summoned you," the woman said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Zita sat up slowly, her body aching from both exhaustion and tension. "And you are?"

The woman arched an elegant brow. "You may address me as Celeste. I oversee Prince Ammar's household. That includes ensuring new arrivals like you understand their place."

New arrivals.

Zita swallowed the anger bubbling in her chest and rose to her feet, determined not to appear weak. "And what exactly does the prince want from me?"

Celeste's lips curved slightly, as if amused by the question. "You'll find out soon enough."

She turned, motioning for Zita to follow.

As they walked through the grand halls of the castle, Zita took in her surroundings-the towering ceilings, the massive chandeliers dripping with candlelight, the deep red banners embroidered with the royal crest. Even in a place filled with death and darkness, the sheer wealth on display was undeniable.

This was their kingdom.

And she was trapped within it.

Descending a vast staircase, Celeste led her through a set of arched doors into a lavish chamber.

The moment Zita stepped inside, her breath caught.

The room was full of vampires.

It resembled a throne room, but instead of a single seat of power, several high-backed chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. The figures seated in them radiated authority, draped in extravagant silks, their eyes gleaming unnaturally in the dim light. They whispered among themselves, their expressions ranging from boredom to amusement.

Zita didn't need an introduction to know these were the ruling elite.

And at the center of them all, lounging with effortless dominance, was Ammar Richard.

Dressed in a fitted black robe adorned with silver embroidery, he exuded an air of unquestionable control. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his piercing gaze locked onto her the moment she entered.

"Good," Ammar murmured, leaning back in his chair. "You're awake."

Zita squared her shoulders, refusing to let her fear show.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice steady.

Ammar gestured to the vampires around him. "This is the High Court of the Night born-my advisors, my council." His lips twitched into a smirk. "And your new masters."

The blood in Zita's veins turned cold.

Celeste's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, a silent warning. "The prince has decided that you will be trained within his household."

Zita narrowed her eyes. "Trained for what?"

One of the seated vampires chuckled. "She's sharp. She already knows the answer."

A servant. A plaything. A source of blood.

Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to remain composed. "And if I refuse?"

Ammar tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Then I will teach you obedience."

Before she could react, a crushing force wrapped around her body.

Zita's knees buckled as pain shot through her, an invisible grip tightening around her limbs. She couldn't breathe. It was as if unseen chains bound her, squeezing her lungs, crushing her will.

She gasped, vision blurring. Magic.

"You will learn your place, Zita," Ammar said, his voice smooth and composed, as if he were merely correcting a misbehaving child. "One way or another."

The suffocating force suddenly vanished, leaving Zita trembling. She barely caught herself before collapsing entirely, her breath coming in ragged gulps.

Ammar rose from his seat and descended the steps toward her. He crouched, reaching out to lift her chin with his gloved fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You belong to me now," he said softly, his tone filled with dark certainty. "Defy me, and I will break you. Obey me, and you may yet survive."

Zita's pulse hammered in her throat.

Ammar studied her face, waiting, expecting submission.

Instead, she stared back with unflinching defiance.

"I will never be your pet," she hissed.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, to her shock, Ammar smiled.

"Then this will be interesting."

Zita was taken to a private chamber, separate from the dungeons but far from the luxury of Ammar's own quarters. The room was spacious yet cold, its stone walls lined with flickering torches. A simple bed, a wooden table, and a basin of water were the only furnishings.

Not a cell. But not freedom either.

An hour later, Celeste returned, placing a neatly folded set of clothing on the bed.

"You'll wear this," she instructed.

Zita eyed the garments suspiciously. "Why?"

Celeste sighed. "Because the prince commands it. And because you are no longer a nameless village girl-you are part of his household now. You will dress accordingly."

Zita grabbed the clothes but made no move to change.

Celeste observed her for a long moment before speaking again. "I would advise you to listen, Zita."

"Why do you care?" Zita shot back.

The vampire's expression darkened. "Because I have seen what happens to those who don't."

A chill crept down Zita's spine.

Before she could respond, Celeste turned and left.

Zita sat on the bed, staring at the clothing in her hands. Her first battle was lost, but she refused to surrender completely.

Ammar Richard thought he could control her.

He would soon learn how wrong he was soon.......