Chapter 3 The Locked Door

CHAPTER 3: THE LOCKED DOOR

Amara waited until Lucas's breathing evened. It was closer to dawn than midnight now, the fire had burned low, casting the room with dull orange embers. She sat up from the edge of the oversized bed, careful not to make the mattress creak. Luca's massive frame laid still on the couch, arms tucked behind his head, shirtless and unbothered. He looked like a god sculpted in stone, but even stones break.

Amara moved. Her bare feet touched the floor as she padded softly to the bookshelf, her fingers trailed along the spines of worn leather books, searching for the small groove she'd seen him press hours earlier.

It was there...almost invisible.

Click, the hidden door slid open with a low hiss.

The space beyond was dark, but not empty. Something pulsed, watching, waiting silently.

Her body screamed for her to close the door and run away, but her mind disobeyed.

Amara stepped inside. The walls were made of black stone, cold, ancient and cracked with veins of glowing red lava frozen mid scream. Candles lined the altar ahead, though no one had lit them.

In the center of the room stood a circulation sigil, crimson and jagged like a wound. Symbols curled around it in sharp spirals, ancient, latin and angry.

Chains hung from the walls, some bloody, and some glowing from a heat she couldn't explain.

She stepped closer to the Altar, every step making her chest tighter than the last.

A book rested on the pedestal, heavy, bound in black leather and somewhat breathing. She could have sworn it breathed when she touched it and opened the covers. The first page was blank, but the second page bled ink. Then it shifted, revealing a sketch of her. Eyes wide, lips parted in the same dress she wore now.

She staggered back, and the door behind her slammed shut.

"You weren't invited," Luca's voice cut through the room like a blade. Amara spun around.He stood shirtless in the doorway, shadowed by the red light, his eyes golden and unreadable. He hadn't even bothered to grab a weapon, he was the weapon.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly, stepping inside.

She straightened her spine. "I wanted answers."

"Answers to questions you don't even understand yet?"

He walked slowly, like a predator circling in curiosity.

"You touched the book?" His gaze drifted to the altar. "Of course you did, you always end up doing the one thing I'd rather you didn't."

"What is this room?" she asked, voice steadier than she felt.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he stopped inches from her and looked down. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn't tender, it was claiming.

"Have you ever wondered," he said quietly, "why men like me don't fear death?"

His palm flattened against her lower stomach, her breath hitched.

"Because something worse already owns us."

She stared up at him,her heart hammering against her chest. "The demon."

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Smart girl."

His thumb moved in a slow circle against her dress. "Rael marked me the day my father died, bound to my bloodline. The curse activates at twenty-eight unless the right blood breaks it."

Amara's blood ran cold. "What do you mean, the right blood?"

His eyes burned into hers.

"I mean you, Amara Elena Costa. You were born with a mark no one sees, not until it's too late."

He leaned closer, until his breath brushed her lips. "And now you're mine."

She slapped him, hard across his jaw, her jaw itched in protest. The sound cracked like thunder in the cursed chamber.

"You don't own me."

He didn't flinch, he smiled.

"You're right," he said, voice dark with hunger. "I haven't earned you yet."

His hand gripped her chin, not cruel, just enough to tilt her head back.

"But I will. Every lie you've told... every secret... I'll take it from your lips, one moan at a time, one plea at a time."

Her lips parted in protest, he didn't wait.His mouth claimed hers, hot, deep, and rough, not romantic and definitely not kind. It was a punishment, a promise, a war.

She gasped, and his tongue slid inside, devouring her like he knew exactly how long she'd been starving.When he pulled away, her knees had nearly buckled.He caught her, holding her like a lover, but stared at her like an enemy.

"Next time you sneak in here," he said, voice low against her cheek, "you won't walk out untouched."

Then he stepped back, the door behind him swung open on its own, and he vanished into the shadows without another word.

Amara stood alone in the cursed chamber, lips swollen, chest heaving.And beneath her feet, the blood circle pulsed once like a heartbeat.