The Vampire CEO’s Lost Bride

Mira's POV

The summer in Duskfall City was stifling, and with the electric fan broken, the humid heat quickly left me drenched in sweat.

"Damn this weather."

I muttered irritably, rolling over and kicking the blanket onto the floor.

Suddenly, an ice-cold hand gripped my wrist, and he seemed to lean down, bringing with him a wave of coolness.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and a solid body enveloped me, my nose filled with an indescribable cold fragrance. I struggled a few times but still couldn't open my eyes, so I simply gave up, wrapping my arms around his cool body and sighing contentedly as I mumbled:

"You're here again. Hold me, I'm so hot."

I heard no response, but a wet, slick sensation touched my lips as my breath was stolen away.

"Mm..."

The kiss was urgent and fierce, and I couldn't help but let out a moan, my entire body tingling with numbness, all strength draining away. My brain grew oxygen-deprived in waves, my heartbeat accelerating.

His breath fell on my face, tickling, and those cool hands stroked my neck as the slick kiss gradually moved downward, landing on a sensitive spot that made me tremble uncontrollably. I lifted my head, clutching desperately at the person in my arms like a drowning person grasping at driftwood.

I ran my hands over the firm muscles of his body, the springy chest muscles filling my palms with an indescribable sense of satisfaction. That throbbing grew more and more obvious, and I managed to crack my eyes open just a sliver.

His face was blurry—I couldn't make it out clearly. I could only see that his skin was very pale, the kind that had never seen sunlight, a sickly pallor with an inexplicable sense of fragility.

His eyes were red, like a demon from hell, tempting one to fall.

Accompanying his kisses, my body trembled involuntarily. He buried his head at my neck, trailing across it, and I felt a sharp sting followed by a tingling itch that was impossible to resist.

I don't know how long passed before he held me in his arms and was about to lean down to kiss me again. I was too drowsy to open my eyes.

"Stop it. Let me sleep. I have an interview tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow's interview was important—I had to rest well.

That ice-cold body indeed stopped moving, and I pillowed my head on his chest, draping one leg over his waist, hugging this cool body pillow as I drifted comfortably back to sleep.

"Ring ring ring—"

The shrill alarm woke me, and I sat up abruptly, my head still a bit foggy.

Why did I have that dream again? Lately, I'd been having it more and more frequently, especially when the weather turned hot. I didn't know why.

Probably just stress.

"Hm? Didn't I throw the blanket on the floor last night?"

I scratched my head. I clearly remembered it was too hot last night and I'd kicked the blanket off the bed, so how was it now covering me properly?

Whatever. No time to think about it—I had an interview.

My name is Mira Thorne, I'm 26 years old, and I'm a psychologist.

Unfortunately, I'm unemployed, and to make next month's rent, I need to find work quickly, or I'll be out on the streets.

That would really be terrible.

I used to work as a psychologist at Duskfall City's largest private hospital, and I was even named Psychologist of the Year.

But I was backstabbed by my best friend.

Elena—only she knew about my past, knew I had a gambling addict for a father.

She spread that information everywhere and told the management I'd taken money from patients.

Even though I hadn't, I was still fired.

As for my savings over the years, my dear mother took them to fund my stepfather's business.

I doubted anyone in Duskfall City could be unluckier than me.

I got out of bed, tossed my wrinkled nightgown into the dirty clothes hamper, and picked out a white blouse and pencil skirt. The blouse collar had a bow-tie design, and around my neck hung a pale red teardrop pendant—professional yet approachable.

The person I was meeting today was a famous CEO, the head of Duskfall City's largest multinational conglomerate, Dusk Holdings: Draven Cross.

Supposedly, he suffered from chronic insomnia and needed a professional private psychologist for long-term collaboration.

Most importantly, the compensation was generous, with the only requirement being confidentiality.

That wasn't difficult for me—as long as the money was good, I could keep any secret.

The Dusk Holdings Group was larger than I'd imagined—an entire building, over forty floors, with an exterior that looked like a massive medieval castle, the most distinctive structure in Duskfall City.

"Hello, Dr. Thorne. Please follow me this way."

The receptionist's voice was gentle as she led me to the elevator.

Dusk Holdings's decor leaned vintage as well, and I even noticed some bat carvings and ornaments, giving everything a mysterious air.

The receptionist knocked on the CEO's office door, then said to me:

"Mr. Cross will interview you personally. I won't go in. Best of luck."

She gave me a smile. I nodded, then heard a deep, magnetic voice from inside the office.

"Come in."

My breath hitched for a moment—I actually felt a bit nervous.

You can do this! Believe in yourself!

I gave myself a pep talk, curved my lips into a slight smile, and pushed the door open.

I was greeted by a vintage medieval style—dark gray genuine leather sofas, several oil paintings I couldn't quite understand hanging on the walls, seemingly depicting animal wings. Thick curtains were drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the entire space rather dim.

The desk sat in the center, and Draven sat in the swivel chair wearing a misty blue shirt with sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, his slender-fingered hand propping up his head and covering half his face, looking somewhat weary.

"Hello, Mr. Cross. I'm Mira Thorne, here to interview for the psychologist position."

I bowed slightly, placing my resume on his desk.

Draven lowered his hand and looked up at me. I was momentarily dazed.

I don't know why, but I felt he looked somewhat familiar.

"Have a seat, Dr. Thorne."

His voice was clear and pleasant, like a cello. I stared at his face, reluctant to look away.

He was truly handsome, with chiseled features and golden pupils that seemed dreamlike, though his skin was rather pale, looking somewhat unhealthy.

"Is there something on my face?"

I snapped back to reality, my face flushing.

Oh my god!

How rude of me!

Was I about to fail this interview?

Please, please, no.

"I apologize."

I apologized quietly and sat in the chair across from his desk.

His gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds, as if appraising me, before he picked up my resume.

"You're very accomplished, Dr. Thorne, but there are many accomplished people. Give me a reason to choose you."

Draven's question was within my expectations. I smiled confidently:

"My university research focused specifically on sleep. In my previous position, I dealt with people like yourself every day. I have sufficient experience and time to help resolve your issues, and if you hire me, I can be available to you 24/7, whenever you need."

Draven raised an eyebrow and stood up, pouring himself a glass of red wine.

The crimson liquid flowed down the side of the glass, seeming somewhat viscous.

He said nothing, and I grew a bit anxious.

"If you're uncertain, you could try me out for a few days—I won't require payment."

"As you wish, Dr. Thorne. I'll give you one week."

I breathed a sigh of relief and said sincerely, "Thank you, Mr. Cross. I won't disappoint you."

Draven smiled faintly and said casually, "As my psychologist, you'll need to take care of me. I usually prefer to work at night—can you keep me company?"

I quickly answered, "Of course I can."

"That necklace of yours..."

Draven's gaze fell on my chest, his eyebrow arching slightly. "Very distinctive."

I curved my lips at him. "This was a gift from my benefactor. He once saved me."

"Is that so? If you were to meet him, what would you do?"

"I would thank him, of course. I'd do anything for him."

I lowered my eyes. "But it's as if he's vanished—I can't find him no matter how hard I try."

"Don't worry, little Mira. He'll appear."

I froze. That phrase—why did it sound so familiar?

"Would you like a drink?"

Draven extended the glass toward me. The viscous 'red wine' swirled gently in the stemmed glass, but I couldn't smell any wine fragrance.

Instead... it carried a faint metallic sweetness, like rust.