Chapter 1: Stranger in the Dark
The forest pulsed around her like a living thing.
Eleanor shouldn't have been out there—alone, barefoot, dress clinging to her thighs from the humid night air. The party on the hill was loud and pointless. She needed something different. Something real.
Or maybe she just wanted to feel something that burned.
She stumbled into the clearing—and he was already there.
A man—or something like one—leaning against a tree like he'd been waiting for her. The moon caught on his pale skin and dark eyes that didn't blink. His chest rose slow, deliberate. Watching her.
Every instinct told her to run.
But her body moved toward him.
"Lost?" he asked, voice deep, velvet-coated.
"Not really."
"Then why are you trembling?"
She hadn't realized she was.
He stepped forward—slow, predatory. The space between them vanished. She stood still, heart thundering beneath her ribs.He didn't touch her. Just… hovered. His breath teased her neck, lips a breath from her skin.
"Your pulse is wild," he murmured. "I can hear it… taste it."
She swallowed. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"I haven't decided yet."
His hand slid around her waist—not gentle, not rough, but commanding. She gasped at the contact, the spark. His thumb grazed the edge of her breast, dragging upward like a question.
"You don't know me," she whispered.
His mouth brushed her ear. "No. But I feel you."
She didn't stop him.
Her back hit the tree with a soft thud, and then his hands were on her hips, his leg sliding between hers. His lips—cool, soft, firm—crashed against hers with aching hunger.
It wasn't innocent.
It was a claim.
Eleanor moaned into his mouth as he pinned her tighter, his tongue sliding past her lips. She felt dizzy, her thighs clenching around his. Her fingers gripped his shoulders—hard, desperate.
He exhaled through his nose, dragging his mouth down her throat."Say my name," he growled.
"I don't know it," she gasped.
He chuckled darkly, lips grazing the curve of her breast.
"Exactly."
She didn't stop when he slid his hand under her dress. Didn't flinch when his fingers brushed lace and heat.
Her body arched to meet him, her breath stuttering as he kissed his way down, then up again—trailing her neck with his tongue, teeth barely grazing skin.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered again.
But she couldn't.
Not when he slipped two fingers beneath her panties and made her gasp so loud the trees seemed to shiver.
She came undone against him, panting, trembling, gripping his shirt as if she might fall through the earth.
And then—
He vanished.
Gone. Like mist.
No name. No goodbye. Just the echo of her release and the burn of his touch on her skin.
She made it home before dawn. Her body still humming.The next morning, she walked into class, disoriented, aching, confused—
And stopped cold.
There he was.
By the window.
His black shirt crisp, his eyes dark and gleaming.
The teacher smiled. "Everyone, please welcome our new transfer student…"
He turned. Smiled.
"…Deaton Ashbourne."
And Eleanor felt her knees weaken.
Because the man from the forest—the man who touched her like a secret—was now sitting in her classroom.
And he looked at her like he still owned every inch of her body.
-----
Chapter 2: The Uninvited
Eleanor couldn't focus.
Her lips were still swollen from the night before. Her thighs ached in a way that felt… deliciously wrong. And every breath reminded her of that stranger's touch—how his mouth claimed her like he already knew her.
She didn't know his name.
Until he walked into her classroom.
"Everyone, please welcome our new transfer student—Deaton Ashbourne."
The world went silent.
His eyes met hers like a strike of lightning. A knowing, burning gaze. Her skin flushed. Her breath caught.
And he smiled. Just a hint. Just for her.
He sat in the empty seat beside her.
"Morning," he murmured, low enough that no one else could hear.
Her pulse spiked.
"You—last night—" she whispered.
"Shh," he interrupted. "You were exquisite."Her whole body went hot.
He leaned close, voice barely a breath. "If I touched you now, would you still be wet?"
She jerked away instinctively—but her thighs pressed together, involuntarily.
The rest of the day blurred. In the hallway, she caught sight of Rose straddling Daniel Carter behind the bleachers, her dress hiked up around her hips, Daniel's fingers tangled in her hair.
Rose locked eyes with Eleanor as Daniel kissed her neck hard enough to bruise—and winked.
Like this was all normal.
Like darkness was the new normal.
Eleanor turned, heart thudding.
She didn't know what she had become.
But she knew one thing:
Deaton was only just beginning.
-----
Chapter 3: Smoke and Hunger
He followed her.
Not with words—but presence. Deaton was everywhere now: in the corners of classrooms, behind her at lunch, leaning against the lockers when she left gym sweaty and disoriented.
That night, she found him again. Or maybe he let her find him.
He was waiting in the abandoned greenhouse behind the school—where moonlight broke through shattered glass and the scent of roses lingered like perfume and rot.
"I shouldn't be here," she said.
"But you came anyway."
"I have questions."
"Ask with your mouth. Answer with your body."
He kissed her before she could speak. Hard. Hot. His hands slid under her shirt with rough confidence, thumbs brushing the curve of her breasts as she gasped against him.
She melted into the kiss, legs wrapping around his waist as he lifted her onto an old wooden table. It creaked beneath them as he pushed her skirt up and her panties aside.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"You scare me."
He smiled against her neck. "Good."
His fingers entered her slow and possessive. She moaned, clutching at his shirt, her head thrown back.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, she came undone.
-----
Chapter 4: The Girl Who Dreamed in Red
Eleanor dreamed in crimson.
Not just blood—but velvet, heat, flesh. She was naked in the dark, crawling toward something with fangs and flame and a crown made of thorns.
Deaton waited for her in the dream.
Naked. Cold. Hungry.
He sank between her thighs with reverence and hunger, whispering her name into her skin like it was a prayer.
She woke panting. Soaked.
And her window… was open.
A single black feather lay on her pillow.
At school, Ivy Radke bumped into her deliberately, nails painted black, lips curled in disgust.
"Smells like vampire whore," she sneered.
"Smells like jealousy," Eleanor shot back.
Meanwhile, Rose sent her a voice note:
> "Daniel's ruining me, babe. I'm walking funny. I think I'm in love."
Eleanor laughed in spite of herself. Rose was reckless—but free. And something about that sounded like freedom.
But then…
The new girl appeared.
Nina Vale, with silver rings on her fingers and a gaze that sliced through people.
"You've been marked," Nina whispered to Eleanor in the bathroom. "His scent is all over you."
"Who are you?"
Nina smiled.
"Someone who burned before you ever touched the fire.
-----
Chapter 5: Thirst
The day Deaton didn't show up to school, Eleanor couldn't think.
Her body ached.
Her mouth was dry.
She wasn't sick. She was starving—for him.
She tried ignoring it. Tried focusing on Rose, who was sitting beside her in English, flushed and disheveled from some unseen tryst.
"You're glowing," Eleanor whispered.
Rose giggled, biting her lip. "Daniel snuck into the music room. Tied me to the piano bench with his tie."
"Wasn't that your mom's scarf?"
"Not anymore."
Eleanor smiled—but her hands shook.
Because nothing could feed what was clawing at her from inside.
That night, she wandered the streets. Alone. Until she felt him.
The air changed. Thicker. Sharper. She turned down a narrow alley… and there he was.
Deaton.
Shirt unbuttoned. Blood on his mouth. Eyes wild.
He was feeding on someone—a man Eleanor didn't recognize, limp but alive.
She didn't run.
She stepped closer.
He looked at her with hunger and shame.
"I couldn't help it," he growled.
"I don't care."
She touched his face. Licked the blood from his lips.
"Take me," she whispered.
And he did.
Pressed her to the cold brick. Lifted her leg. Slid inside her with a desperate groan.
They fucked like monsters.
Hard. Fast. Wild.
And when it was over, he kissed her gently.
"Don't fall in love with me."
"I already did."
----
Chapter 6: Red Is the Color of Ruin
Eleanor wore red to school the next day.
Not just lipstick.
A dress. Tight. Dangerous.
She wanted to be seen—and she was.
Even James stared. Her brother's face twisted in confusion and something darker.
But she didn't care.
Because she was power now.
She caught sight of Daniel dragging Rose into the auditorium backstage again. This time, Eleanor followed.
She peeked through the cracked door and saw Rose on her knees—mouth open, tongue out, while Daniel gripped her hair, whispering things Eleanor couldn't hear but could feel.
She should've left.
But she didn't.
Instead, she pressed her thighs together and bit her lip.
Later that night, Deaton climbed through her window.
He didn't speak.
He just pulled the red dress off her body and slid between her legs like he belonged there.
They didn't sleep.
They burned.
-----
Chapter 7: A Prince in the Shadows
Two days later, a new figure appeared in town.
Rang.
Tall. Bronze-skinned. Tattooed hands. A smirk like sin and eyes that saw too much.
He joined Blackthorn as a "transfer." But Eleanor knew better.
She felt his power before he ever spoke.
He cornered her by the lockers, crowding her space.
"You smell like a storm," he said.
"Do all monsters talk like that?"
"I'm not a monster," he whispered. "I'm a prince."
"Of what?"
"Blood. Bone. And broken girls."
Eleanor stiffened.
Rang leaned in. "When you get tired of your vampire, come find me. I bite differently."
That night, Deaton was rougher.
Jealousy poured from his skin. His hands shook as he touched her. His mouth bruised her thighs.
"Did he touch you?" he growled.
"No."
"But you thought about it."
She didn't deny it.
Because part of her liked the idea.
Being wanted by more than death.
-----
Chapter 8: Hunger Games
Eleanor couldn't stop.
Not the visions.
Not the craving.
Not the fantasies.
She dreamt of Deaton's mouth between her thighs and woke up soaking her sheets. She touched herself in the shower thinking of Rang's voice saying "I bite differently."
At school, everything felt like a game of restraint she was losing.
In history class, Deaton slid his hand under her desk and up her skirt while Mr. Reeves droned on about ancient Rome. She barely heard a word. All she knew was that she was dripping into his hand, and he didn't stop even when James turned to pass her a note.
That night, she followed Deaton to the woods.
They didn't speak. Just stripped and collided like wolves in heat.
He bit her thigh when she came.
And she liked it.
------
Chapter 9: Reckless, Wild, and Tied to a Headboard
Rose was worse.
More addicted than Eleanor.
She didn't even try to hide it anymore.
She showed up at school with bruises on her collarbone, a hickey the size of a fist on her inner thigh, and a smug grin that dared anyone to question her.
"You look wrecked," Eleanor whispered.
"I am," Rose whispered back, biting into an apple. "And I'm going back for more."
That afternoon, Daniel picked Rose up on his motorcycle. They didn't make it out of the parking lot.
Eleanor caught them in the music room again. Rose was bent over the piano, panties around her ankle, Daniel's hand gripping her throat as he moved inside her, slow and deep.
Eleanor tried to look away.
But something about Rose's blissful, dangerous expression made her keep watching.
Until Rose looked up and locked eyes with her.
"Wanna join?" she mouthed, grinning.
Eleanor turned and fled—flushed, aching, afraid of what she might've said if she stayed.
---
Chapter 10: Rang's Kiss
He found her in the locker room after hours.
Alone. Dripping from swim practice. Wrapped in a towel and steam.
Rang didn't knock. He didn't wait. He just walked in like he owned the air.
"You need to be careful," she said.
"No," Rang said. "You need to be honest."
He grabbed her, pressed her against the lockers, and kissed her before she could stop him.
His mouth was hot. Demanding. Different from Deaton's cold fire. Rang kissed like sin. Like control.
Her towel slipped.
And for a moment—just one—she let him touch her.
His thumb brushed her nipple, and she moaned before she could catch herself.
"Still think I'm dangerous?" he asked.
She nodded, breathless.
"Good," he said. "Because you're not safe anymore."
When he left, Eleanor stood in the steam, heart racing, thighs shaking.
Because now she wanted them both.
And monsters never shared.
---
Chapter 11: Touch Me, Then Kill Me
Eleanor didn't go home that night.
She went straight to Deaton's.
He opened the door shirtless, blood drying on his collarbone, and without a word she kissed him—deep, rough, biting.
They tore at each other in the hallway, knocking over a lamp and crashing into the wall. He pinned her wrists above her head, lips grazing her throat.
"You kissed him," Deaton growled.
"Do you care?"
"I want to destroy him."
"Then destroy me first."
He did.
On the floor. On the couch. In the shower.
He devoured her.
Bit her hips, bruised her thighs, made her scream into his shoulder.
She didn't stop him.
Because this wasn't love.
This was war.
---
Chapter 12: Rose Crosses the Line
Rose wasn't answering her phone.
So Eleanor found her—in Daniel's bed, handcuffed to the headboard, mascara smeared, completely unbothered.
"Seriously?" Eleanor demanded.
"I'm living," Rose said, voice hoarse.
"This isn't living. You're giving yourself away."
Rose laughed softly. "So are you."
Daniel returned from the kitchen carrying a belt and a smirk. He kissed Rose's neck without acknowledging Eleanor.
"Close the door on your way out," he muttered.
Eleanor turned to leave but stopped when she heard Rose moan again—loud, needy, dangerous.
And something inside her snapped.
Because maybe they were all losing themselves.
Maybe she liked it.
---
Chapter 13: Tension Like Chains
Rang showed up at her bedroom window again.
She didn't let him in.
But he came anyway—shadow-walking through her mirror, stepping into her space like a god.
"You're glowing," he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. "He fed on you again."
"You don't get to be jealous."
"I'm not," Rang murmured. "I'm just waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to realize he doesn't want your power. He wants to keep it for himself."
Rang circled her like a predator.
"Do you know what it feels like to be claimed by a prince of blood?"
"I've been claimed already."
"No," Rang whispered, leaning close. "You've been tasted. But you've never been ruined."
His lips almost touched hers.
And she hated that part of her wanted him to finish the sentence with his tongue.
---
Chapter 14: The Blood Room
There was a room beneath Blackthorn High that no one talked about.
No windows. No lights. Just stone and whispers.
Deaton brought her there.
He didn't explain.
He just pressed her against the wall, undressed her with his mouth, and dropped to his knees.
The room pulsed with ancient magic as his tongue explored every inch of her, as if he could drink her down and make her disappear.
She came with a cry loud enough to wake whatever slept beneath the floor.
And that's when she saw it—
A seal carved into the wall. A throne made of bones. And a name scratched in ancient blood.
Eleanor.
---
Chapter 15: Rose Breaks
Rose had been distant. Strange.
When Eleanor finally found her, Rose was in the nurse's office, shirt torn, lip split, wrists bandaged.
"I told Daniel no," she whispered.
Eleanor's stomach dropped.
"Did he—?"
Rose shook her head. "He didn't force me. But he wanted to."
"You need to leave him."
"I already did."
Rose looked up, and there was something deadly in her eyes now.
"I'm not going to be prey anymore."
"What are you going to be?"
Rose smiled, soft and sharp.
"Something with teeth."
---
Chapter 16: The Fire Prince's Offer
Rang waited outside the chapel ruins, where the witches used to meet.
His shirt was off. Tattoos glowing like brands in the moonlight.
"I don't want your crown," he said.
"Then what do you want?"
"You."
"For what? Blood? Sex? Power?"
Rang stepped closer.
"For chaos," he whispered. "For the girl who kissed a vampire and didn't flinch. For the queen who will burn down the world and smile as it falls."
He backed her against the stone wall, kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.
And stopped just before her lips.
"I can make you feel things he's too afraid to ask for," Rang whispered.
She shivered.
"Then show me," she dared.
And he did.
They didn't stop until the stones were slick with sweat and her nails were clawed into his back.
---
Chapter 17: Tethered in Lust and Blood
Deaton knew.
He smelled Rang on her.
He didn't speak as he pulled her into his arms that night. Just undressed her slowly, painfully, like every inch of skin was a confession.
"You let him touch you," he said against her stomach.
"Yes."
"You wanted him?"
"I wanted power."
"And me?"
"I want… to destroy you."
He entered her slow, deep, punishing.
They didn't speak again.
Only bodies colliding. Moans swallowed. Teeth clashing.
When she came, she bit his shoulder. Drew blood.
He smiled as he bled into her mouth.
"My queen," he whispered. "My ruin."
---
Chapter 18: The Tribunal Arrives
They came dressed in smoke and silence.
Old. Powerful. Unafraid.
The Tribunal of the First Bloodline arrived at Blackthorn to take Eleanor or kill her.
Rose summoned the witches.
Rang vanished into the night, leaving behind a dagger carved from his own fang.
And Deaton?
He begged her to run.
"I was sent to seduce you," he confessed. "To keep your power bound. But I fell in love instead."
"Too late," Eleanor said.
Because she wasn't the hunted anymore.
She was the storm.
---
Chapter 19: Coronation in Flame
They met in the forest. Circle of fire. Moon bleeding red.
Eleanor wore nothing but silver chains and a crown of bone.
The witches chanted.
Rang stood at her right.
Deaton at her left—eyes hollow with heartbreak.
The Tribunal demanded submission.
She offered them her throat instead.
When they lunged, she unleashed it all.
Magic tore through the woods. Fire split the sky. Wolves howled. Blood poured from trees.
And Eleanor stood in the chaos, eyes glowing, hair wild, lips stained.
They fell at her feet.
Every single one.
Except Deaton.
He stepped forward… and knelt.
"My Queen."
---
Chapter 20: In Love With the Vampire
The town called it a freak storm.
No one remembered much. Some ran. Some forgot. Some were simply rewritten.
But Eleanor remembered everything.
She ruled in secret now.
The girl who once walked Blackthorn's halls was gone.
Now there was only her.
Power. Pleasure. Flame. Lust. Legacy.
Rang visited her in the shadows.
Rose became her loyal witch—bruised, wiser, sharper than ever.
And Deaton… remained.
Some nights he touched her like a man worshipping his goddess.
Some nights she made him beg.
She no longer asked for love.
She demanded devotion.
Because she wasn't just in love with the vampire.
She was the vampire now.
And the world would burn beautifully beneath her crown.
---
THE END .
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