The mansion was quiet that night, so quiet it almost felt abandoned. Around midnight, when the weight of silence became suffocating, I lit a candle and slipped out of my room. The flame flickered uncertainly, throwing crooked shadows against the walls as I descended the creaking staircase. Every step groaned under my weight, as if warning me not to wander.
Outside, the air was cool and damp. The garden, if it could be called that, was nothing more than a patch of lifeless earth. Once-proud hedges had long withered into skeletal remains, their branches clawing at the night sky. The stone path was cracked and half-buried under weeds. I lifted my gaze, letting the stars distract me. How peaceful they looked, distant and untouchable. A cruel reminder of where I truly belonged… and how far I had fallen.
Just as I turned to go back inside, a sound shattered the stillness. A groan—low, guttural, pained—drifted from beyond the garden wall. I froze, candle trembling in my grip. For a heartbeat, I considered ignoring it. But curiosity clawed at me.
Following the sound, I pushed into the thin line of forest that bordered the mansion. The trees stood close together, their crooked trunks like dark sentinels. My flame quivered against the suffocating black, until at last it revealed him: a man slumped against a tree, blood staining the bark beneath him.
He was a mess of wounds, each cut bleeding sluggishly, his chest rising shallowly with effort. His eyes fluttered half-open, catching the light for the briefest moment—cold, sharp, inhuman. A shiver ran down my spine before his gaze slipped shut, his body going limp.
I should have left him. In fact, every part of me screamed to leave him there. But there was something else… an aura rolling off him, faint yet undeniable. Power. Ancient, overwhelming power. I could feel it in my bones, like standing too close to a storm.
"This man… he carries the power of a dragon," I whispered to myself. My hand brushed his forehead—it was icy cold, a chill that burned against my skin.
For a long moment I stood there, weighing the danger. Dragging him inside would mean risk. Leaving him here meant wasting an opportunity. My mansion had no guards, no protections. I was vulnerable. But with him…
I clapped my hands once, decision snapping into place. "Fine. It's decided. I'm bringing him with me."
Easier said than done. His body was heavy—unnaturally so. Every attempt to haul him over my shoulder nearly broke me. Muscles screaming, I half-dragged, half-carried him through the weeds, across the crumbling garden, and back up the groaning staircase. By the time I threw him onto my bed, sweat dampened my skin and my arms trembled.
I set the candle on the nightstand. Its glow painted the man's form in gold and shadow. I hesitated before reaching for the blood-soaked fabric of his clothes. To treat him, I had to undress him. My fingers worked mechanically, but when his bare skin was revealed, I froze.
His body… was sculpted like a weapon. Hard muscle carved by years of battle, every line of him radiating strength. Even battered and bloodied, he was beautiful. Too beautiful. My cheeks grew hot, and I cursed myself silently for reacting like some foolish girl. Forcing the thought away, I pressed a damp cloth to his wounds, cleaning the blood carefully.
Still, every touch made me aware of the heat in my face, the strange flutter in my chest. I tore down a strip of curtain and wrapped it around him, pulling the fabric tight over the worst of the cuts. It wasn't much, but it would keep him alive.
At last, I slumped into the rickety chair beside the bed. The candle burned low, throwing faint light across his unconscious figure. Exhaustion weighed on me. I let my head fall back against the chair, my eyes fixed on him even as sleep dragged me under.
The night passed with the scent of blood thick in the air, the silence broken only by his shallow breaths… and my restless dreams.