Chapter 9

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Somewhere nearby, I could hear it, echoing faintly in the cold air. The smell hit me next, metallic and strange, mixed with damp stone and something else I couldn't place. Blood? No, it was too faint, more like the memory of blood. I shivered, reaching up instinctively to rub my forehead, hoping it would clear the fog in my head.

But then my fingers brushed against something cold, hard, and rough, horns.

My heart pounded as I froze, feeling their curve under my hand. This wasn't real. I was human, a normal guy. I'd never, horns? I stumbled forward, my mind spinning, trying to shake off the heavy feeling in my limbs. In the corner of the room, I noticed a cracked mirror hanging haphazardly on the wall, its glass covered in grime and cobwebs. But in the dark, flickering candlelight, I could still make out the distorted figure staring back at me.

And that face, it was mine but... it wasn't.

I stumbled closer, reaching a hand out as if I could somehow touch the stranger staring back at me. My skin looked deathly pale, stretched tight over features that seemed sharper, harsher. And my eyes, deep, unnatural red, glowed faintly, casting a faint crimson sheen on my skin. I blinked, hoping that the reflection would shift, hoping I'd see my own familiar face again. But no. The figure in the mirror stayed the same, and with every passing second, the reality of what I was looking at sank deeper into my bones.

A monster.

A shiver ran through me, a mix of horror and... something else. Something darker that I didn't want to acknowledge. But I couldn't ignore the faint thrum of power under my skin, a strange heat that pulsed with each heartbeat, sending waves of unfamiliar energy through me. There was something twistedly exhilarating about it. But no, I couldn't let myself fall into that. I was still me. I had to be.

A soft, mocking laugh echoed from behind me, snapping me out of my daze. I turned sharply, my eyes adjusting instantly to the dim light, locking onto a figure leaning casually against the doorframe. She looked as though she'd been waiting, watching. Izzy. Her name struck through me like a memory, sharp and unbidden. She was the reason I was here, the one who'd killed me, who'd left me to die with that wicked smile on her face.

But now she was back, watching me with that same wicked look, one eyebrow arched as if amused by my horror.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked, her voice low, silky. Every word seemed to drip with smug satisfaction. She pushed herself off the doorframe and sauntered toward me, her hips swaying in that dangerous, mesmerizing way, each step slow, deliberate. My eyes trailed down, despite myself, taking in the dark fabric that clung to her curves, barely covering her. Her dress, if you could call it that, was sheer, falling in strips that barely concealed anything, revealing smooth, toned legs and the curve of her hips.

"Mmmm I loved it when you took charge and smacked me around. Where was that fire earlier, Jack!" She moaned, oozing with desire and a wicked grin.

"Jack? I thought I was your master? And you deserved it after fucking KILLLING ME!!" I shouted, filled with rage.

For a split second her expression shifted to shock but almost as quickly it changed to a primal heat that surged through her body. I could see the desire in her eyes and her long tongue licked her upper lip in a show of her arousal.

"Yes! I did get a little carried away, but it was the catalyst you needed to be reborn," She began, taking steps closer and closer to me. "And look at you now baby, Mmmm, that was a look that could kill."

I tore my gaze back up, heat flooding my face. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was enjoying every second of it. But I couldn't show weakness. Not here. Not now. I had no idea what kind of game she was playing, but I wasn't about to let her see me falter.

"What the hell did you do to me?" I forced out, my voice rougher than I'd intended. I tried to keep my gaze steady, fixed on her eyes, but the look she gave me, half amusement, half hunger, made it hard to focus.

She laughed again, a soft, almost musical sound that seemed to fill the room, weaving through the shadows. "I didn't do anything," she said, taking another step closer, her eyes never leaving mine. "You did this to yourself. Or rather," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, "this is your birthright."

I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the jolt that shot through me as her breath brushed my ear. She was close, too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. The scent of her, dark, heady, with a faint trace of something almost sweet, wrapped around me, clouding my thoughts. I fought the instinct to step back, to put distance between us, but I knew that any sign of retreat would only encourage her.

"Birthright?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "This isn't a birthright. This is... this is some twisted joke."

She pulled back, looking at me with that infuriatingly smug smile, her eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Oh, Jack. Still thinking like a human, I see. You think death is an ending." She chuckled, her fingers tracing a slow, taunting path down my chest, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "Here, death is just the beginning. You've been reborn. As something more."

I wanted to brush her hand away, to shout, to do something, anything to shatter the spell she seemed to be weaving around me. But there was a part of me that was listening, hanging on to every word. I hated that part. Hated the way my skin seemed to tingle under her touch, the way my heart raced every time she leaned closer.

"You're saying I'm supposed to be... what, exactly?" I managed, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

She stopped, her hand lingering on my chest, her fingers splayed out as if feeling the beat of my heart. "A king," she whispered, her voice soft, reverent. "The last blood descendant of the original demon king, Louis. Your grandfather."

The words hit me like a physical blow, the weight of them settling heavily in my chest. A king? I stared at her, searching for any sign of deception, but all I saw was that knowing smile, the gleam of something dark and unyielding in her eyes.

I shook my head, a hollow laugh escaping me. "You're lying," I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I could feel the truth of them settling inside me. There was a part of me, a part I didn't want to acknowledge, that understood, that felt the power thrumming beneath my skin, the pull of something ancient and terrible.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile fading just slightly. "Am I?" She gestured to the room around us, her hand sweeping over the shadows, the stone walls, the darkness that seemed to pulse and breathe. "Look around, Jack. This is your inheritance. Your legacy. You were meant for this."

I could feel the anger rising in me, hot and blinding. I wasn't some puppet for her to manipulate, some pawn in a twisted game. "I didn't ask for this," I snapped, my voice loud in the silent room. "I didn't want any of this."

Izzy's expression softened, just a bit, but there was still a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "Want has nothing to do with it," she said, her voice almost gentle. "This is who you are, Jack. This power, this kingdom, it's in your blood. You can't run from it."

I turned back to the mirror, looking once more at the stranger staring back at me, those red eyes full of something dark, something I didn't want to acknowledge. The pull of it, the temptation to give in, to let go of everything I'd known, was terrifying. But it was there, lurking, waiting. Part of me wanted to scream, to reject it, to fight it. But another part, a part that was slowly growing, understood.

Izzy stepped closer, her fingers trailing up my shoulder, lingering at my collarbone, her touch warm and deliberate. "You can deny it all you want," she whispered, her breath hot against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. "But you belong here, Jack. You were meant for this."

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold on to the anger, the disbelief. She was trying to manipulate me, trying to bend me to her will. But there was a part of me that was listening, a part that was starting to believe.

"No," I said, forcing the words out, even as my voice shook. I turned to face her, meeting her gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. "You don't control me, Izzy. And you never will."

Her smile widened, a slow, wicked grin that made my pulse race. "Oh, Jack," she murmured, her voice a purr that wrapped around me, tightening with every syllable. "You have no idea how much you're already mine."

The words echoed in my mind, sinking deep, and for a moment, I felt the grip of something dark, something powerful, settle over me. But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. I wouldn't let her see my fear.

"I don't belong to anyone," I said, stepping back, breaking free of her gaze, of her touch.