Chapter 4 Mysterious Saviour

The man appeared silently before the door, Ariene slumped unconscious over his shoulder. Without a word, he stepped inside, dropped her gently on the soft bed, and left just as quickly, not sparing the fainted girl even a glance.

Outside, an old lady with hunched shoulders and silver-streaked hair awaited him, bowing deeply the moment she saw him.

"Young Master! Welcome back!" she greeted, keeping her head lowered.

He didn't even pause. "Take care of the weak human inside the room. If she wakes up... do not let her leave."

Before the woman could respond, he was already gone, his dark silhouette swallowed by the hallway's shadows.

The old woman finally raised her head, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of concern as she entered the room. The thick scent of blood hit her nostrils the moment she stepped in, and her body stiffened. Her instincts screamed, but she calmed herself with a long breath. As a servant in a vampire's household, she had learned to endure far worse.

Rushing to the bed, she checked on Ariene. Her skin was pale, cold with dried sweat. Noticing her bandaged leg and faint pulse, the old lady turned around and dashed off, calling for the family's private doctor.

Meanwhile, Dashiell entered his own room-a place as cold and void as his heart. The room was dim, nearly bare, with only the essentials: a bed, a table, a chair, and a wardrobe. Shadows clung to the corners like old friends.

He sat down on the chair and picked up his phone, dialing swiftly.

"Did you get the information I asked for?" His voice was cold and sharp.

"No, Sir! But I wil-"

Tu tu tu...

He ended the call before the man could finish.

With a sigh, he placed the phone down, picked up a crystal glass filled with thick red liquid, and drank deeply. The taste soothed something wild within him, and his crimson eyes shimmered in the darkness.

"I've been waiting for you," he said suddenly, his gaze fixed on a shadowy corner.

A beautiful woman emerged from the shadows, her skin almost porcelain-white, a seductive smile tugging at her lips.

"Dashiell... I couldn't wait for you either," she purred, circling him from behind. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she nipped gently at his nape. He let out a quiet moan, closing his eyes.

She pulled him up and led him to the bed. Dashiell's fangs slowly revealed themselves as she climbed atop him and bared her neck.

He bit down.

She cried out in pleasure, and he moaned, drawing life from her in slow, deep pulls. The woman-Terra-was the only human he could feed on without killing. Her father, a powerful witch, had altered her blood long ago, making her special. Her mother had been human, giving her a scent that soothed his thirst.

Dashiell, an outcast, bore the curse of endless thirst. Unlike other vampires, he needed human blood to survive. He had once been heir to his clan, the son meant to lead. But envy and betrayal had stolen that from him-his younger brother Kian was chosen instead. False accusations of fratricide followed. Betrayed, cursed, and cast out, he left the clan and came to the city.

From nothing, he built a name feared across the underworld. An infamous crime fighter by night and the irresistible billionaire CEO of two major companies by day, he thrived. His cold demeanor and razor-sharp aura made people avoid him-and that suited him just fine. He had no love for humans. He called them weak. Pathetic. Only one vampire remained loyal to him-Damien, his lifelong friend.

---

Ariene's eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling was unfamiliar. So was the bed. She blinked several times, trying to make sense of where she was. As she tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through her knee. She gasped and pulled the blanket off, revealing a neatly bandaged leg.

Her head ached. She touched her temple and winced, fragments of memories returning slowly. The alley... the attack... blood.

Her eyes darted around the dim room, large and mostly empty except for the bed. She began calling out softly, unsure of where she was.

The door creaked open.

The same old lady walked in, a gentle smile tugging at her wrinkled lips. "Child, you're awake?"

"Yes, ma'am... where am I? Did you... did you bring me here last night?" Ariene asked, scratching her head awkwardly.

The old woman chuckled. "No, my child. The Young Master did. He asked me to care for you."

"The Young Master?" Ariene's brows furrowed. "Where is he? Can I see him?"

The woman sighed, folding her hands behind her back. "No, you can't. He's busy. When he wants to see you, he'll come. Now go clean yourself up. You're dirty. I'll get you some clothes."

She turned and left before Ariene could say more.

Dragging herself slowly out of bed, Ariene limped toward the bathroom. Her clothes were stained and smelled like old blood. She peeled them off and sank into the bathtub, keeping her injured leg out. The warm water wrapped around her, and she let out a soft moan.

Eyes closed, she was dragged into the whirlwind of her past-painful memories flooding back. Her chest ached, and soon tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

"I hope I make it here," she whispered to herself.

Once she finished bathing, she stepped out and stood before the mirror. Her fingers traced the scars and bruises on her skin. Her once vibrant face now looked worn and faded.

The door opened, and the old woman stepped in again. "Keep staring, and you'll catch a cold," she said with a half-smile, holding up a bundle of clothes.

"These belonged to my daughter. You both look about the same size. I hope they fit."

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it," Ariene replied softly and picked a gown from the pile. "The Young Master... will I see him soon?"

"He's occupied," the woman replied vaguely. "Now, let me get you some food. You must be starving."

"I am! Thank you!" Ariene said, her stomach growling in agreement.

---

Dashiell stood, fully dressed now, his dark coat brushing past his knees. Terra had long gone. He'd fed and indulged. The craving was silenced-for now.

He stepped out and moved with silent grace toward the guest room.

Pushing the door open, he found her sitting on the bed, lost in thought.

"I heard you were looking for me," he said, his voice slicing through the still air.

Ariene flinched slightly and turned. The moment her eyes met his, her breath caught. His presence was overwhelming-his aura dark yet magnetic, his features sharp and stunning. She was entranced, like a moth drawn to dangerous flame.

Words failed her.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips.

"Well?" he asked.

But Ariene... she could only stare.