Chapter 3
Cassandra's POV
I lifted my head. Alexander was descending the curved staircase, its steps covered in deep red carpet.
Today he wore a black turtleneck sweater beneath an impeccably tailored charcoal cashmere coat that made his figure appear even more imposing. His deep ice-blue eyes carried an innate sense of oppression as they swept across the hall.
When his gaze landed on Serena, that suffocating coldness thawed slightly.
"Alexander!" Serena's expression transformed instantly. The woman who had been so aggressive toward me moments ago now had tears welling in her eyes as she gathered her skirt like a startled fawn and rushed toward him, burying herself in his embrace.
My stomach churned violently, but I could only stand there like a statue, rooted to the spot.
"You're soaked." Alexander frowned, his long, pale fingers gently brushing away the damp strands of hair clinging to her cheek. He didn't push her away.
"Cassandra insisted on opening the car window a little. She said it was too stuffy inside." Serena pressed her face against his chest, her voice trembling with grievance. "I'm feeling cold now, Alexander. I told her earlier that I wanted to stay in the east wing suite, closer to you. I'm afraid that bloodthirsty restlessness will strike again at night... but my sister wouldn't agree."
She was lying. She was the one who had opened the window.
I snapped my gaze toward Alexander, desperate to explain. "Alexander, that's not what happened. She—"
"Ilias." Alexander didn't look at me. Instead, he looked past me entirely, addressing the elderly butler. "Prepare the east wing suite for Serena. Have someone light a fire in the hearth."
"Yes, Master." Ilias withdrew respectfully.
"Alexander!" I called out his name in disbelief.
The east wing was our private space. How could he allow another woman—even my sister—to brazenly move into his sanctuary?
Alexander finally turned his gaze toward me. Those ice-blue eyes held no ripple of emotion, cold enough to leave me feeling utterly hopeless.
"It's just a room, Cassandra. She needs looking after." His tone was as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Don't throw one of your tedious territorial tantrums right now. You should go change. That damp rain smell on you is quite pungent."
With that, he placed his arm around Serena's shoulders and walked straight toward the ground-floor parlor.
I stood alone in the vast hall as rainwater from my coat dripped onto the expensive Damascus carpet below, spreading into dark, wet stains.
Damn it.
My territorial tantrum? Who exactly was invading whose territory?
In this house, my words carried less weight than those of a newly turned vampire.
Dinner time arrived.
The dining room in Alexander's manor was absurdly large. The long black walnut table was covered with a pristine white tablecloth, silver candelabras holding thick black candles that burned with a faint ambergris scent.
Alexander sat at the head of the long table. Normally, I would sit at his right hand. But today, that seat had been claimed by Serena. She pulled out that high-backed chair and sat down as if it were her birthright, leaving me no choice but to settle for the seat across from her.
A maid wheeled in the serving cart.
Placed before Alexander and Serena were two ornately carved crystal goblets filled with viscous, deep crimson liquid that gleamed with an eerie, mesmerizing luster in the candlelight. This was premium O-negative blood, typically sourced from humans who voluntarily donated for money.
Before me sat an elegantly plated beef Wellington accompanied by black truffle potato purée.
If this had been before, I would have praised such a sumptuous dinner without hesitation. But now, facing those two goblets of blood across from me, I felt an overwhelming wave of nausea.
"Cheers, to my new life." Serena raised her glass toward Alexander with a sweet smile, her two sharp canines peeking out from between her red lips.
Alexander raised his glass slightly in response, his cold lips taking a sip of the blood. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed—a sensual motion that had captivated me countless times in our bed but now felt like a knife to my chest.
Serena took a generous sip of blood with elegant grace. She closed her eyes and released an exaggerated sigh that sounded almost orgasmic. A drop of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and she extended her tongue to lap it back up in an overtly sexual manner.
"God, this taste is absolutely divine." She opened her eyes, her gray irises flickering with an almost greedy red light. Then her gaze traveled across the table to land on my plate.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste and waved her hand in front of it dismissively.
"Cassandra, how on earth do you manage to swallow those lifeless chunks of meat?" Serena stared at my beef Wellington, her tone dripping with undisguised pity and mockery. "The smell of that charred flesh and coarse fat is making me gag. The human digestive system is truly appallingly primitive."
My fingers froze around the silver fork, its tines scraping harshly against the porcelain plate with a piercing screech.
"Shut up, Serena." I lowered my voice in warning. "Have you forgotten that seven months ago you were still eating these 'primitive' things yourself?"
"But I've evolved now, haven't I?" She laughed lightly, her eyes challenging me. "I'm the same kind as Alexander now. We share the same cravings, the same life force. And you..."
She deliberately drew out the word as she looked me up and down. "You'll grow old soon. Your skin will wrinkle, your body will sag. By then, aside from providing some fresh blood, what use will you be to Alexander?"
"Serena!" I shot to my feet, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. My chest heaved violently as anger burned behind my eyes.
"Enough."
Alexander finally spoke from the head of the table. He set down his goblet, the crystal base thumping dully against the wood.
He didn't look at me but instead turned toward Serena, his voice carrying a hint of disapproval—though certainly not stern reprimand.
"Serena, don't be so harsh with your sister. She is human, after all." His tone was casual.
She is human, after all.
Those words struck me like a resounding slap across the face.
He wasn't defending me. He was tacitly agreeing with Serena—that I was merely a fragile, inevitably aging human. At this table, in this manor, I was the outsider.
I stared at Alexander's perfectly flawless yet utterly cold profile. He didn't even glance up at me; his attention remained fixed on Serena's half-finished goblet.
"Finish it, Serena. Your pulse is still weak. You need substantial energy to stabilize your transformation." He spoke to her in a low voice.
Suffocation.
An overwhelming sense of suffocation crashed over me like a tidal wave, squeezing my throat shut. I suddenly felt like a complete fool. I had thought that two years of marriage and countless nights of devotion could earn me even a shred of his respect or favor.
But I was wrong. Vampires have no hearts.
"I'm full." I dropped my napkin, my voice trembling slightly.
"Cassandra, you've barely touched your plate." Alexander finally turned to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Because the air in here is making me sick." I met his gaze coldly, for the first time not bothering to hide my disgust.
Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and strode out of the dining room. Behind me, I faintly heard Serena's light, triumphant laugh.
