Malia's legs gave out beneath her like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut. Her vision blurred around the edges, and her skin felt cold, clammy. Muna caught her before she hit the marble floor.
"Woah, hey—Malia?!" Muna's voice trembled as she gently eased her down onto a nearby velvet bench in the corridor. "What's wrong? You're sweating like crazy."
"I just… I think I need to sit down. It's nothing," Malia whispered, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Leon hadn't moved from where he stood, but his attention had zeroed in on her like a hawk. Something inside him twisted. A sharp, ancient instinct roared to life—the need to protect, to claim, to destroy whatever was making her hurt. But he held himself back. Barely.
"She might need medical attention," Damon offered with his usual calm tone, though his gaze flicked from Malia to Leon with a questioning edge.
"I think we should go," Muna said, already helping Malia to her feet. "We'll get back to the hotel. She just needs rest—"
Leon's voice was smooth but firm. "That won't be necessary. You're welcome to stay here. There are guest rooms prepared for visitors. You'll be more comfortable here."
Malia blinked up at him. Despite the sweat on her brow, her heart skipped. He's worried about me.
Muna shot him a look like she was ready to karate-chop a man twice his size. "We don't even know you."
"You're already here," Cassie chimed in from behind Leon, tossing a smirk Muna's way. "You may as well enjoy the royal—uh—rich people hospitality."
Leon's eyes met Malia's. Her breath caught. There was a fire there, restrained and burning. He wasn't just offering kindness—he was watching. Sensing. That wasn't concern in his gaze. It was hunger.
Malia glanced at Muna and gave her a tiny, reassuring nod. "It's okay. I'm okay. We can stay. Just… one night."
Muna groaned dramatically. "You're lucky I like you."
---
They were escorted to two grand guest rooms. Muna refused to leave Malia's side for a full hour, fluffing pillows and ruffling around like an angry nursemaid.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked for the hundredth time.
"I swear, if you ask me that again, I'll fake fainting just to make you panic."
Muna gave her a look. "Not funny. And next time, don't go staring at hot mysterious strangers and forgetting to breathe."
Malia chuckled lightly but her expression sobered. "He… feels familiar. Like, deeply familiar."
Muna tilted her head. "Wait, familiar how? Like celebrity familiar or 'I saw you in a past life' familiar?"
Malia hesitated. "Like… like the guy from my dreams."
---
Somewhere in the estate, Leon stood at the edge of the east balcony, his hands gripping the railing hard enough to crack stone.
Cassie joined him with a dramatic sigh. "She's got something, huh?"
"She's not just human," Leon murmured, his voice low and raw. "There's something… older. Buried. And there's something clinging to her like chains, like some sort of curse."
Cassie blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone.
Damon appeared beside them. "You sensed it?"
Leon gave a curt nod. "It's ancient. Powerful. Someone powerful tried to hide her true nature—and nearly succeeded."
---
Later that evening, Muna wandered into one of the sitting rooms with her phone in hand, pretending to scroll.
Damon was already there, seated near the fireplace with a glass of wine and a book he wasn't really reading.
She plopped into a seat across from him. "So, are you always this… uptight, or are you just shy?"
Damon didn't look up. "I'm not shy."
"Right. Brooding is just your natural habitat."
A pause.
"You're very observant."
Muna grinned. "It's my toxic trait. I notice everything."
Damon looked up at her then, and their eyes locked. Something electric passed between them—sharp, hot, and unexpected. He cleared his throat and looked away.
"I should go check on Malia," Muna muttered, standing a little too fast.
"I'll walk with you," Damon offered, surprising both of them.
---
Meanwhile, Cassie barged into Leon's study without knocking, because when did she ever knock?
"You look constipated," she said cheerfully. "And by constipated, I mean love-sick. It's gross."
Leon didn't dignify that with a response.
"Admit it," she continued. "You're already picturing the wedding. Should I wear pink or is that too dramatic for a vampire court bride?"
"She's not ready," Leon muttered, more to himself than her.
Cassie raised a brow. "Or are you not ready?"
Leon didn't answer.
Cassie smiled and tossed a grape from the bowl at his desk. "Ohhhh, he's scared. Leon-the-Scourge is scared."
"I will rip out your tongue."
"Aw, he does still love me."
---
In the guest room, Malia sat quietly by the window, staring at the stars. Her hand drifted to her chest where the pain had blossomed earlier. That sickness—cancer, they'd said—but now… now it felt heavier. Like her soul was being weighed down.
She didn't know who she truly was, she never got to meet her parents and she feels like there's something hidden deep within her, she doesn't know what it is.
But something told her… he might.
And that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Maybe...just maybe, she'll listen to her heart and her gut and stay here a bit longer.
---