Chapter 4 – The First Night

The door shut behind her with a final click, and Seraphine knew: she was trapped.

Her new “room” was unlike any cell she imagined. It was large, lavish even—velvet curtains, a canopy bed draped in black silk, golden candelabras flickering with warm light. A fireplace crackled, throwing shadows that twisted like living things against the walls.

Too beautiful for a prison.

Too dangerous for a sanctuary.

On the table by the bed lay the black rose. Fresh. Whole. Its thorns gleamed like drops of obsidian. She hadn’t taken it from his hand, yet here it was, waiting.

Her stomach tightened. He wanted her to touch it. To claim it. To fall willingly into the cage.

She turned away from it, pacing the room. Her mind raced, replaying his words, the cold certainty in his voice, the way his blood dripped from the stem without flinching.

Every thorn will cut you, little flower. And every cut will remind you—you are mine.

Seraphine shuddered.

The fire crackled louder, as if mocking her silence. She pressed her hands to her temples, willing herself to stay strong. She would not break. She would not belong.

The door opened.

Her body went rigid. She turned, expecting guards—but it was him.

The Thorn King stepped inside without ceremony, his black coat trailing, his mask catching the firelight. He closed the door behind him with a quiet finality that made her chest clench.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she snapped, though her voice betrayed a tremor.

“This is my house.” His tone was smooth, calm. “You are mine. Why shouldn’t I be here?”

Her hands curled into fists. “I will never be yours.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like a predator intrigued by prey’s defiance. “You said the same in the garden. And yet—” His gaze flicked to the rose on the table. “—you haven’t destroyed it.”

Her throat went dry. “It means nothing.”

“Then break it,” he said simply.

Seraphine froze.

His eyes glinted beneath the mask, sharp as ice. “Pick it up. Tear it apart. Prove to me you do not already feel its weight.”

She stared at the rose. Her hand twitched, aching to prove him wrong. But something stopped her—the memory of his voice, the way he said her name, the heat that had coiled low in her stomach when his fingers brushed her skin.

She hated it. Hated him.

But she couldn’t move.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Her breath quickened as he stopped just inches away, towering over her.

“You think defiance makes you strong,” he murmured. “But strength isn’t in resisting me. It’s in surrendering—and surviving me.”

Her pulse thundered. “I don’t need to survive you.”

“Then why does your body tremble?”

His words struck too deep. She hated that he noticed.

Before she could answer, his hand lifted, gloved fingers brushing along her jaw. She tried to pull away, but his touch lingered, firm yet deliberate, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“You burn,” he whispered. “Every word you spit at me, every glare, every breath—it burns. And I will take every flame until you have nothing left to give but yourself.”

Seraphine’s breath caught. Heat raced through her veins, her skin betraying her with shivers she couldn’t control.

She wanted to slap him. Scream. But all she managed was a whisper: “You’ll never have me.”

The Thorn King’s lips curved, not with amusement this time, but with a hunger that was dangerous, unyielding.

“We’ll see.”

He released her abruptly, stepping back. The loss of his touch left her trembling in fury and something darker she dared not name.

He turned to the door, pausing only once to glance over his shoulder.

“Sleep well, little flower. Tomorrow, your lessons begin.”

And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the fire, the silence, and the cursed black rose still waiting for her hand.

Seraphine sank onto the bed, her chest heaving.

She told herself she was still free inside. That she would never bend, never bloom.

But deep down, where she couldn’t reach, a dangerous truth curled like a thorn around her heart:

For the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape.

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