Chapter 43: The Library’s Dark Patron
{IRIS}
"That’s enough, Zephyros."
The voice struck the air like a blade.
Deep.
Icy.
Everything stopped.
Zephyros’s smile faltered, the shadows quivered, and the pages hanging midair fell lifelessly to the floor.
Slowly—very slowly—Zephyros turned his head toward the source of the voice.
And I, sobbing, shaking on the cold marble, lifted my gaze through blurred tears—
To see a figure stepping out from the far end of the library.
Tall.
Dark-clad.
Red-eyed.
His presence swallowed the entire room.
Vampire.
That was the only word that thundered through my skull when my gaze collided with his.
He towered above me—taller than Lord Val by a clear margin, his frame lean but forged with an unmistakable godly grace.
Long dark hair cascaded down his back like spilled ink, and those eyes... Crimson like the most beautiful of rubies.
A face so devastatingly beautiful it bordered on cruel, with features carved sharper than moonlit marble. Even more striking than Lord Val—and that alone was terrifying.
And yet—something stirred within me. A whisper. A tremor of recognition that should not exist.
"Lord Valtheris," Zephyros murmured with a bow, his earlier sinister amusement melting into his usual lethargic calm.
As he spoke, the extinguished candles bloomed back to life, lighting the shelves with trembling flames.
"This scribe violated curfew. I was merely teaching her... a lesson."
Valtheris released a slow, tired sigh—one that still carried the weight of centuries.
"How many times must I remind you not to toy with the students? You guard this place for the ancient tomes—not for indulging in your little amusements."
Zephyros bowed deeper. "Apologies, my lord." He glanced at me, his form fading into smoke. "A pity, little wolf... we will play another time."
And then he vanished—leaving me alone on the cold marble floor, shaking, breath stuttering out of my chest.
"Are you harmed?"
My breath caught when Valtheris stepped toward me, his shadow falling over my trembling form. He extended a gloved hand, and when my eyes traveled upward—
I froze.
His face...
Too beautiful.
Too intense.
Too dangerous.
Those crimson eyes could have devoured my soul and I would have thanked him. They could charm anyone.
Before I could think better of it, my hand lifted toward his. His cold fingers wrapped around mine, and he pulled me effortlessly to my feet.
The world held its breath.
The air grew thick—intense—silent.
Something ancient and familiar brushed against my senses, like a memory on the verge of awakening.
Valtheris’s expression faltered for a single heartbeat.
"Do I... know you?"
The question escaped him as if torn straight from his subconscious.
The strange pressure dissolved.
I blinked rapidly. "I—I do not think so, my lord."
"Hmm." He recovered almost instantly. "You are young. Perhaps I was mistaken." His gaze sharpened. "Are you a new student here?"
I nodded. "My name is Iris Snow."
His eyes darkened with curiosity. "And who recommended you?"
My heart leapt. I could not say Lord Val.
He warned me.
Inside this school—we are strangers.
"I was brought here by Dean Blake Waydren," I said softly.
Valtheris hummed, a thoughtful sound. "The Dean...? Very well." He gestured toward the exit. "I shall escort you back to your dormitory."
I instinctively stepped back. "Forgive me, my lord... but, who are you?"
He blinked—then chuckled, low and warm. My heart nearly stopped.
"Ah, forgive me," he said, dipping his head with an elegance that felt like a trap. "I forget myself. I have grown accustomed to everyone knowing my name." A faint smirk curved his lips. "You must have lived in seclusion not to recognize me."
Arrogant and proud.
And still... familiar.
"I am Valtheris Darkmoon, High Scholar and instructor at this academy. Actually, I’m just starting here . . ."
My breath hitched.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
His portrait was in one of the books I had read—but he looked nothing like those lifeless ink drawings. In person, he was more otherworldly, colder, infinitely more terrifying.
And he was the one vampire Lord Val had explicitly told me to avoid.
"I—I am deeply sorry, my lord," I stammered, bowing. "I failed to recognize you."
"It is of no consequence," he said mildly. "You are new. And it is your first offense being out after curfew, so I shall overlook it. The second time..."
His eyes glinted.
"There will be punishment."
"Yes, my lord."
Relief washed over me—only to be shattered the moment I turned to leave.
Cold fingertips brushed my cheek.
I froze.
His touch was like winter—quiet, biting, lingering. My breath faltered as he tilted my chin upward, forcing my gaze into his.
"Strange..." he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Why can I not shake the feeling that I have met you?"
"M-my lord—"
Heat crawled up my neck. His fingers trailed along my cheekbone, sending sparks down my spine.
"But that should be impossible," he continued. "You are a young she-wolf... yet you have no scent."
His head dipped lower. Too close.
Far too close!
"M-my Lord Valtheris..." I whispered, trembling.
The corner of his mouth curled, amused.
"Such an enigma. Perhaps I should look into your memories... hmmm?"
He leaned in, breath ghosting over my neck.
"No—"
The word died in my throat. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
His fangs grazed my skin.
I froze as he leaned in, his crimson eyes glowing like smoldering embers.
No.
Panic clawed up my throat.
If he drank my blood, he might see—see Lord Val, see the mansion, see everything!
It had been barely a day since I arrived. My memories were still fresh—raw. Any glimpse would betray everything.
I didn’t know how far into the past a pureblood could see... but I didn’t want to find out.
He inched closer. Each breath he exhaled ghosted across my skin, icy and hot at the same time.
Of all the thousands of beings in this academy—why did I have to meet him? The one vampire that Lord Val said to avoid at all cost.
My heart thundered wildly, painfully, as though trying to rip itself free.
His cold breath traced along my neck. He inhaled slowly, almost lazily, like he was savoring the moment, and the tip of a fang grazed my skin.
"Do not fear, little wolf," he whispered. "I will make it quick... and painless."
