Chapter 4 Marked

Lucien carried her through a hidden door behind his office-silent and seamless, like part of the wall. On the other side was no boardroom. No elevator. Only darkness.

The lights flickered on automatically. Amber-glow sconces lit a long hallway, lined with deep red velvet and black stone. At the end, a single door stood, carved with a sigil that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.

"This isn't in the building plan," Eira whispered, dazed.

"It wouldn't be," Lucien replied. "This level exists between floors. It's mine. And now, yours."

He pushed the door open, and Eira's breath caught.

The room wasn't what she expected. There were no chains. No leather. No mirrors or harsh lights. Instead, the space was warm. Sinister. Intimate.

A wide bed of dark gray silk dominated the center, surrounded by velvet curtains that could be drawn closed. A table of crystal decanters sat to the left, beside a low-burning fireplace. Shelves lined the back wall with books bound in languages she didn't know-and tools she didn't yet understand.

"This is the Ritual Room," Lucien said. "Every contract begins here."

Eira slid from his arms to her feet, legs trembling slightly. "Is this where we...?"

"Yes," he said. "But not yet. First, the mark."

He stepped behind her and brushed her hair aside, exposing the back of her neck. She stiffened, but didn't move. She heard the rustle of fabric, the unsheathing of something-metal, perhaps.

Cold pressed gently to her skin. She gasped.

"This won't hurt," Lucien murmured, "unless you resist."

She didn't.

A strange warmth spread from her nape, flowing down her spine in slow, molten threads. Her knees went weak. She whimpered, not in pain-but in unbearable sensation.

The warmth faded, and he stepped away.

"Look."

He handed her a mirror.

Etched just below her hairline was a delicate symbol in crimson ink-a circle crossed by two thorns, surrounded by flame. It pulsed faintly, as if alive beneath her skin.

"What is it?" she breathed.

"Your link to me," he said. "The contract seal. It binds your pleasure to my command. Your body is now tuned to my presence. My voice. My will."

Her fingers hovered above it. It felt warm. Sacred. Dangerous.

"And what do you feel now?" he asked.

Eira turned slowly. Her pupils were blown wide, breath shallow.

"Like I'm waiting for you to touch me," she confessed.

Lucien's eyes burned into her.

"You're not ready," he said, voice a razor under silk. "But you will be."

He crossed the room and took a crystal vial from the shelf. Inside was a deep, red liquid that shimmered like blood and rubies.

"Drink this."

She hesitated.

"It's not poison," he added, amused. "It's attunement. It opens you to me. Fully."

Her fingers curled around the cool glass. She lifted it to her lips-and drank.

The effect was instant. Heat flared in her stomach, then spread outward like lightning in her veins. Her skin flushed. Her breath hitched.

Lucien caught her as she stumbled forward.

"Shh," he whispered. "Feel it. Let it move through you."

She pressed her face to his chest, trembling. Her body wasn't her own anymore. It belonged to something ancient. Something raw.

To him.

"I need-" she gasped.

He touched her chin, lifted it.

"Not yet."

Their eyes locked.

"Tomorrow night," he said. "You'll kneel. And I'll show you what it means to be mine."