Bride of the Night

Chapter4

### **Chapter 4: The King’s Command**

Lana was still reeling from the tension of her first night at the court. Lucien’s insidious words had stuck with her, and even now, as she lay in the darkened chamber that Ian and Emma had prepared for her, they gnawed at the edges of her mind. She should have expected it—vampires were, by their nature, manipulative creatures. But something about Lucien had felt different, as though he knew exactly how to press her buttons, to make her question herself.

She pushed herself upright in bed, her body still foreign to her. The vampire “training” she’d been undergoing with Emma and Ian helped in ways that couldn’t be denied, but every day felt like a battle to learn how to exist in a body that was both stronger and yet more fragile than it had ever been. A vampire’s senses, her heightened strength, her immortality—they were gifts, but they were also chains.

She ran her fingers over the soft sheets, the fabric like silk against her skin. The silence in the room was oppressive, almost suffocating. And then, as always, the presence that haunted the back of her mind tugged at her.

Morpheus.

It wasn’t a physical sensation, not the kind that could be touched or seen, but rather something deep in her soul—an inexplicable connection that stretched between them, binding her to him. She didn’t understand it, but she could feel it: the way he lingered in the space between her thoughts, just beyond her reach.

She wanted to reach out. To call to him. But she knew better.

He had chosen not to speak to her directly since that night—since he’d given her the blood that had made her what she was. She hadn’t heard his voice, his thoughts, since. Yet, the pull, that quiet pressure against her consciousness, remained.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced up, startled, but then quickly composed herself.

“Enter,” she called, her voice steady.

The door creaked open, and Ian stepped inside. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with something else—something urgent.

“Lana,” he said, his voice low, his dark eyes scanning her with a peculiar intensity. “The king requests your presence.”

Lana froze. “Morpheus?” The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and she immediately regretted it. There was no way Ian couldn’t have heard it.

Ian’s expression didn’t change, though she saw the flicker of something—recognition, maybe? “Yes, Lana. Morpheus. The king has requested you.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice quieter now. Her heart beat strangely in her chest—if she had one to speak of. Was it fear? Excitement? Something else?

“Your presence is required in the throne room,” Ian replied, his gaze hardening. “There’s no time to waste.”

She nodded, brushing the thought of her unease aside. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak or hesitant in front of Morpheus. She had no idea why he wanted to see her, but it couldn’t be good. The King of Vampires didn’t just “request” things without reason.

As she rose from the bed, Ian stepped aside, allowing her to pass. There was a slight, almost imperceptible pause as she reached the door. Then, without a word, he motioned for her to follow him. The corridor beyond her chamber was dimly lit, the ancient stone walls lined with oil lamps casting flickering shadows that made the air feel even heavier. The echoes of their footsteps reverberated through the silent halls as they made their way deeper into the heart of the palace.

Lana’s mind raced. What did Morpheus want with her? Was it about the court? About Lucien? Or was it something else entirely—something that had nothing to do with the power games she’d witnessed so far?

The answer came much sooner than she anticipated.

As they neared the throne room, the temperature seemed to drop. The air grew thick with an ancient power that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. There was no warmth here, just the biting cold of the stone walls and the oppressive weight of Morpheus’s presence.

Ian stopped in front of the large doors leading into the throne room, turning toward her. “Do not be intimidated, Lana. You are his equal now, whether you feel that way or not. Stand tall. And remember—this is your world now, too.”

She nodded but couldn’t quite rid herself of the knot of anxiety forming in her chest. Her heart might not be beating, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel the rapid pulse of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Ian opened the doors, revealing a large, open chamber. It was grand, beyond anything she had seen before—high ceilings with intricate carvings, and towering windows that stretched up to the heavens. The throne itself sat at the far end of the room, carved from black marble, gleaming as though it were the very seat of power itself.

And there, sitting atop the throne, was Morpheus.

The King of Vampires was everything she had imagined—dark, regal, terrifying in his beauty. His eyes were the color of deep violet, impossibly intense. His hair was long, dark as midnight, falling over his shoulders in waves. His skin was pale, but not in the sickly way of other vampires. No, his pallor only served to highlight the perfection of his features. He was untouchable, it seemed, a god among men and vampires alike.

He was watching her with an unreadable expression as she walked forward, her legs slightly unsteady beneath her.

When she was within a few feet of his throne, she stopped, unsure what to do. He didn’t speak, and for a moment, she thought maybe she had been mistaken about the connection between them.

But then, his gaze softened—just slightly—and he spoke, his voice smooth, deep, and commanding.

“You have arrived,” he said, his tone low, almost like a command. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Lana swallowed, unsure how to respond. Was this part of the game? A test? She stood there, feeling the weight of his words settle over her like a heavy cloak.

“I... I don’t understand, my lord,” she said carefully, trying to keep her voice steady. “What is it you need from me?”

Morpheus tilted his head slightly, his violet eyes glimmering with an almost imperceptible hint of something—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper. “Need?” he repeated softly. “No. It’s not a question of need, Lana. It’s a question of what you are now. Who you are.”

The silence stretched between them, as if waiting for her to understand something unsaid. But all she could think of was that strange pull in her chest, the silent connection that hummed between them.

He stood, and the air seemed to shift. His presence enveloped the room, filling every corner with his power. Lana felt a flush of warmth as he approached, but it wasn’t the warmth of the sun. It was something darker, something more primal.

“You are different now, Lana,” he said, his voice a whisper against her ear. “You are mine, in ways that cannot be undone. But I will not claim you until you are ready.”

Lana froze, her heart—or what was left of it—skipping in her chest. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Morpheus smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile that left her breathless.

“I mean that you are bound to me. Whether you like it or not,” he said softly. “But I will guide you. Train you. Shape you into something even greater.”

Lana stood still, unsure whether she wanted to run or draw closer to him. She didn’t understand the extent of the bond between them, but it was undeniable. And there was a part of her—a dark, curious part—that felt an inexplicable attraction to him. To his power. To his control.

For the first time since her transformation, she felt like something in her had shifted. Not just in her body, but in her mind and soul. Something had clicked into place.

She was bound to him.

And perhaps, whether she liked it or not, he was bound to her as well.

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