The storm raged as Elara rode through the dark woods, her cloak soaked and heavy. She had no choice—her father was missing, and his last known path led to the cursed Thorned Castle.
Legends whispered of the beast that lived there. A creature neither man nor monster, hidden away in a fortress of shadows. But Elara was not afraid. Not yet.
Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the towering gates of the castle. She dismounted, pushing through the iron bars. The wind howled as she stepped into the overgrown courtyard, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
And then—an iron grip seized her wrist.
She gasped, twisting, but it was too late. A towering figure loomed over her, his hand locking around her waist, pulling her close.
"Foolish girl," a deep, gravelly voice rumbled. "You should have never come here."
Elara struggled, but the stranger’s strength was unnatural. His hooded face remained shadowed, his breath warm against her skin.
"Where is my father?" she demanded.
Silence. Then, slowly, the figure moved, dragging her behind him through the grand entrance of the castle. The doors slammed shut with a deafening boom, sealing her fate.
The Beast
The castle was a labyrinth of dark halls and flickering torches, filled with the scent of old stone and dying roses. He led her to a candlelit chamber, releasing her only when she stumbled onto the plush carpets.
Only then did she see him fully.
He was not a beast in the way she had imagined—no claws, no snout. But something was wrong about him. His face was sharp, almost too perfect, but his eyes… his eyes were golden, burning with something feral. Scars lined his jaw, disappearing into the collar of his dark coat.
“You’re not leaving,” he said simply, as if the words held no weight.
Elara’s breath hitched. “You can’t keep me here.”
A slow, humorless smile curled his lips. “I can.”
Her heart pounded. “What do you want from me?”
He stepped closer, and the heat between them was suffocating. “You came looking for your father,” he murmured, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “And now, you’ll stay in his place.”
Elara swallowed hard. “You’re a monster.”
His golden eyes flashed. “Then stop looking at me like you want the monster to touch you.”
She gasped, but he had already turned, leaving her with a locked door and a racing heart.
The Dance of Shadows
Days passed. Maybe weeks. The castle was alive, its shadows shifting, whispering secrets she couldn’t understand. The Beast—he called himself Lucian—watched her constantly, a predator studying his prey.
He left gifts. Dresses of midnight silk. Rare books filled with forbidden knowledge. Roses so black they looked like drops of spilled ink.
She refused them all.
Until the night of the storm.
Thunder shook the castle as Elara stood by the grand fireplace, her hands trembling. Lucian entered, his presence filling the room like smoke.
“Why do you fight this?” he asked, his voice smooth as velvet.
“Because I am not yours,” she hissed.
Lucian smiled darkly. “No, little rose. But you will be.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance, his fingers tracing the lace at her wrist. Her breath hitched. She should recoil. Should fight.
But when his lips barely ghosted over her throat, something inside her shattered.
“You are mine,” he murmured, his voice a promise, a curse. “You just don’t know it yet.”
And in that moment, as the storm raged outside, Elara realized the real danger was not the beast before her—but the way she wanted to be devoured by him.
