Chapter 1

Cassandra's POV

By the time the fervor in the bedroom finally subsided, a full two hours had passed.

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, and I lay sprawled across that massive antique four-poster bed for a solid five minutes before I could even muster the strength to move.

Taking a deep breath, I dragged myself up on trembling legs and went to retrieve my silk nightgown scattered across the Damascene carpet.

Alexander had been particularly rough today. God, my head was still spinning.

Just half an hour ago, he had me pinned down hard against the velvet mattress, those cold, powerful arms locked around my waist like iron shackles. His thrusts were brutal and deep, each one hitting that sensitive spot with precision, making my entire body shudder. The contrast between his cold temperature and my burning skin was maddening, and when that overwhelming pleasure crashed over me like a tidal wave, his scorching tongue traced my neck before he couldn't hold back any longer—those lethal fangs emerged and pierced through my fragile skin.

The dizzying sensation of blood loss mingled with the peak of sensory stimulation left me capable of nothing but broken whimpers, completely undone beneath him.

Now, the inside of my thighs ached terribly, and on the side of my neck—where two shallow, freshly healed bite marks remained—there was still a dull, throbbing pain.

This was the price I paid for being his exclusive blood bag and wife.

I fumbled with the lace ties of my nightgown several times, unable to get them fastened, my fingers still trembling uncontrollably.

Soon, the bathroom door swung open, and Alexander emerged.

He was tall and imposing, with a slender yet commanding build, his features so chiseled they could have been carved by Michelangelo himself. As a creature of the night, his skin carried that sickly yet mesmerizing pallor unique to his kind.

Fresh from his shower, a pure white towel hung loosely around his waist, and droplets of water traced down his marble-hard, defined abs before disappearing beneath the towel's edge.

When he noticed me still standing naked by the bed, his deep ocean-blue eyes narrowed slightly, and his sharp brows furrowed just a fraction.

I didn't look at him again, just kept my head down, continuing my battle with that damned lace tie.

"Serena is being released from the sanatorium tomorrow."

He walked past me, bringing with him a cold, oppressive wave of cedarwood scent, and spoke suddenly. "You'll go to the St. Cecilia Estate to pick her up. I've already promised your mother that she can stay at our manor for a while, until her bloodlust is completely stabilized."

My hands froze mid-motion.

I turned my head, staring at the man before me in disbelief.

This was my husband of two years—Alexander, the most powerful vampire lord of New York's Night Empire, and the CEO of Wall Street's most influential investment conglomerate.

And Serena, the woman he mentioned, was my half-sister.

When I was five, I got lost in Central Park in Manhattan. While my biological mother searched frantically for me for three days and nights, my stepfather took the opportunity to bring home a golden-haired, blue-eyed little girl who looked like a perfect porcelain doll—Serena. She replaced me, becoming the family's most beloved little princess. Even when the police found me three years later, I had already become a transparent, unnecessary presence in that house.

More ironically, when Serena turned eighteen, she was accidentally bitten by a rogue vampire. To save her life, Alexander personally gave her the Embrace. From that moment on, she became one of the blood clan, while I remained an ordinary human—mortal, aging, destined to die.

"You want her to live here?" I finally found my voice, though my throat felt dry. "Alexander, this is our home. And... you know she's never liked me."

Alexander walked to the massive walk-in closet and casually selected a black silk shirt to put on. His movements were elegant and unhurried, and he didn't even turn around.

"Cassandra, don't be so petty," his voice was low, magnetic, yet cold as ice. "Serena has just survived the agitation of her transformation period. She's extremely vulnerable right now and needs a safe sanctuary. Besides, my blood runs through her veins—I must take responsibility for her."

I must take responsibility for her.

Those words cut through my heart like a rusty, dull blade.

What about me? I'm your legitimate wife. Every night you ravage me in bed, feed on my blood, mark me with that distinctive cold cedarwood scent of yours.

Don't you need to take responsibility for me?

But I didn't voice these thoughts. I knew that in this marriage, I had never had the right to negotiate terms from the very beginning.

Two years ago, when my mother's company faced bankruptcy, Alexander stepped in with capital—on the condition that I marry him. Because my blood carried a rare sweet factor that could soothe his violent nature as an ancient vampire.

"I understand," I lowered my eyes, smoothing out my nightgown to cover the purple-blue marks of passion on my body. "I'll pick her up tomorrow."

Alexander seemed satisfied with my compliance. He turned and walked toward me, his towering frame completely enveloping mine. He reached out with his long, cold fingers, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

"Good girl," he murmured in a low voice, his gaze flashing with a hint of crimson as it lingered on the bite mark on my neck. He leaned down, his cold lips brushing softly against that wound, sending an involuntary shiver through my body.

"Your taste was exquisite tonight, Cassandra. Go rest now."

With that, he released me and walked out of the bedroom. The heavy carved wooden door closed behind him with a dull thud.

Once again, I was alone in the room. The air still carried the scent of our recent intimacy, mixed with the cold aura he left behind.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed out at the glittering neon lights of New York City.

I am Cassandra, a human girl with a bright smile and warm amber eyes. My friends all say I have a cheerful personality, like California sunshine.

But no one knows that within this opulent Gothic manor, I live like a pet trapped in a gilded cage.