Trisha tried not to think about him.
Which was nearly impossible.
For three days she had forced herself into a routine that carefully avoided Rowan Vale at all costs. It was not easy. The hotel was his empire. His presence moved through its marble corridors like an invisible current. Staff straightened when he passed. Managers lowered their voices. Even the guests seemed instinctively aware when the owner entered the room.
But Trisha had learned to stay out of his way.
Different shifts. Different floors. Quick exits.
Still, she felt him.
Not with her eyes.
With the mark.
The skin at the base of her neck had never returned to normal after that night. What should have healed in a few hours had instead deepened in color. The bite had faded into something stranger—something almost… artistic.
A curved imprint just beneath her collarbone.
Dark crimson fading into purple.
Like a tattoo made from blood.
Every morning she checked it in the mirror.
Every morning it was still there.
And every day it reacted.
Now, standing behind the reception desk in the quiet evening lobby, Trisha pressed her fingers against the mark again.
Warm.
Not painful.
Just… alive.
The sensation spread outward in small pulses, like the slow beating of a heart beneath her skin.
She swallowed.
This is ridiculous.
Marks didn't pulse.
Bites didn't behave like this.
But every time Rowan came anywhere near the lobby, the warmth grew stronger.
She had tested it.
Accidentally.
Yesterday morning he had walked through the lobby speaking quietly with one of the hotel directors. Trisha had been organizing reservation files when the mark suddenly burned like a spark under her skin.
She hadn't even looked up.
But she knew.
He was there.
And the moment he walked out, the burning stopped.
That realization had terrified her far more than the party.
Because it meant the mark wasn't just a scar.
It was a connection.
Trisha clenched her jaw and focused on the computer screen.
Ignore it.
Ignore him.
Ignore everything.
The lobby was calm tonight. Soft piano music floated through the high-ceilinged space. Expensive guests walked across the polished marble floors carrying shopping bags and champagne glasses.
Everything looked normal.
But Trisha knew better now.
The hotel wasn't normal.
The people in it weren't either.
Her eyes briefly drifted toward the private elevator at the far end of the lobby.
The one Rowan used.
She forced herself to look away.
Stop thinking about him.
She had almost convinced herself she could do it.
Until she felt the mark burn.
Sharp.
Sudden.
Her fingers flew to her neck.
Not warm this time.
Hot.
Her breath caught.
No…
That meant he was nearby.
Her heart began beating faster.
Trisha didn't look up immediately. She pretended to be focused on the screen while the burning intensified.
Footsteps crossed the marble floor.
Slow.
Confident.
The air around the lobby shifted in that strange, quiet way it always did when Rowan entered a room.
She finally glanced up.
He was walking toward the elevators.
Tall.
Perfectly composed.
Dark suit tailored flawlessly to his frame.
Rowan wasn't looking at her.
But the moment he passed the reception desk, his eyes flickered in her direction.
Just briefly.
A glance.
Cold.
Controlled.
Yet something in it lingered.
The mark burned harder.
Trisha inhaled sharply.
Rowan paused for a fraction of a second.
His gaze returned to her neck.
His eyes darkened.
He knew.
Before she could react, he stepped into the elevator and disappeared.
The burning slowly faded.
Trisha released a shaky breath.
This can't be happening.
*****
The shift ended later than usual that night.
By the time Trisha clocked out, the hotel had quieted. Most of the late-night guests were either at the bars or inside their suites.
The staff corridors were almost empty.
Trisha grabbed her bag and walked toward the staff exit.
The hallways were dim compared to the bright lobby upstairs. The soft fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead as she moved past the storage rooms and service elevators.
Her footsteps echoed slightly.
Then she heard another set.
Behind her.
Slow.
Measured.
Trisha slowed her pace.
The footsteps slowed too.
A chill crept down her spine.
She turned.
A man stood at the end of the hallway.
Tall.
Beautiful.
Too beautiful.
That unnatural perfection she had begun recognizing since the party.
Pale skin.
Sharp cheekbones.
Dark hair slicked neatly back.
A vampire.
He smiled slowly.
"Miss Hart."
Her stomach tightened.
He had been at the party.
She remembered him now.
One of the guests dancing under the crimson lights.
"What do you want?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
The vampire walked closer.
His movements were smooth. Graceful. Almost predatory.
"I've been watching you."
The words made her skin crawl.
He stopped a few feet away.
His nostrils flared slightly.
Then his expression changed.
Curiosity.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Trisha took a step back.
"Stay away from me."
He laughed softly.
"You smell… extraordinary."
Her heart pounded.
The mark began to heat again.
Not from Rowan this time.
From fear.
The vampire leaned closer, inhaling deeply.
"I've never smelled blood like yours before. I know about you and the King."
Her back hit the wall.
The hallway suddenly felt too narrow.
Too quiet.
"Leave me alone."
His eyes glowed faintly red.
"Just one taste. It won't hurt. I promise."
The mark exploded into burning pain.
Trisha gasped.
The vampire reached for her wrist.
And then a voice spoke from behind him.
Cold.
Deadly calm.
"You picked the wrong woman."
The vampire froze.
Slowly, he turned.
Rowan stood in the hallway.
Silent.
Still.
But something about him had changed.
His eyes were no longer calm silver.
They were black.
Completely black.
The vampire's confidence vanished instantly.
"King D'Arcy," he stammered. "I —"
Rowan walked forward.
One step.
The air seemed to grow heavier.
The vampire raised his hands.
"I meant no disrespect."
Rowan didn't answer.
Another step.
The vampire took a nervous step backward.
"She smells… unusual. I was curious."
Rowan stopped directly in front of him.
For a moment, the hallway was completely silent.
Then Rowan tilted his head slightly.
"Curious?"
His voice was soft.
Dangerously soft.
The vampire swallowed.
"Yes."
Rowan's gaze flicked briefly toward Trisha.
She was still pressed against the wall, shaking.
His expression hardened.
When he looked back at the vampire, something ancient and terrifying flickered in his eyes.
"You followed her. You smelled me on her and yet you dared to follow her."
The vampire hesitated.
"Yes, but—"
Rowan moved.
Trisha barely saw it happen.
One second he was standing still.
The next—
His hand was gripping the vampire's throat.
Lifting him off the ground.
The vampire gasped, struggling.
"King D'Arcy—"
Rowan's voice remained calm.
"You touched what belongs to me."
The mark burned like fire.
Trisha watched in horror.
The vampire clawed at Rowan's arm, but it was useless.
Rowan's strength was monstrous.
The vampire's eyes widened.
"Please—"
Rowan's other hand moved.
One sharp motion.
A sickening crack echoed through the hallway.
The vampire's head separated from his body.
The body collapsed instantly.
The head rolled across the floor.
Blood spread across the tiles.
The silence that followed felt suffocating.
Trisha stared.
Her mind refused to process what she had just seen.
Rowan released the body.
It fell to the floor with a dull thud.
He turned toward her slowly.
His eyes had returned to their normal silver color.
But there was still something terrifying in them.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
Trisha backed away from him.
"You… you just killed him."
Rowan glanced briefly at the corpse.
"Yes."
His voice held no emotion.
"No hesitation.
"No regret.
"He would have killed you."
Her breathing grew faster.
"That doesn't mean—"
Rowan stepped closer.
"Trisha ."
The tone of his voice stopped her.
He studied her face carefully.
Then his gaze moved to her hand.
She was gripping her neck.
Right over the mark.
Rowan's eyes darkened.
"Did it burn?"
Trisha froze.
She hadn't meant to reveal it.
She lowered her hand slowly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Rowan took another step closer.
"Don't lie to me."
His voice was softer now.
Almost curious.
"It reacted when he touched you, didn't it?"
Her silence answered the question.
Rowan exhaled slowly.
"Interesting."
Trisha stared at him.
"Interesting?"
Her voice trembled.
"You just killed someone!"
Rowan tilted his head slightly.
"He wasn't someone."
"He was a guest!"
"He was a predator."
Trisha looked at the body again.
Her stomach twisted.
"This place is insane."
Rowan studied her carefully.
"You're not safe walking alone at night anymore."
"I was fine before!"
"No," Rowan said calmly.
"You weren't."
She clenched her fists.
"I don't belong in your world."
Rowan didn't respond immediately.
His gaze drifted to the mark again.
"You belong exactly where you are."
The words made her stomach twist again.
Possessive.
Terrifying.
She stepped past him.
"I'm leaving."
Rowan didn't stop her.
But as she reached the door, his voice followed her.
"You should avoid dark corridors."
She didn't turn around.
*****
The next afternoon felt strangely normal.
Too normal.
Trisha sat at a small café near the hotel after her college , staring into her coffee.
Her mind replayed the hallway scene again and again.
The speed.
The violence.
The way Rowan had said:
You touched what belongs to me.
Her fingers drifted to the mark again.
Still warm.
Still present.
Still connected to him somehow.
"Trisha?"
She looked up.
A familiar face stood beside her table.
"Daniel?"
Daniel Carter.
Her college friend . They are in the same batch.
Tall.
Friendly.
Completely human.
He smiled in surprise.
"What are you doing here after the college ?"
"I work nearby , part time , you know for the tuition fee."
"Of course you do. You are so hardworking."
They talked for a few minutes.
Normal conversation.
Normal smiles.
Normal laughter.
It felt… comforting.
Like stepping back into the world she understood.
Finally Daniel leaned forward slightly.
"So… would you like to grab dinner sometime?"
Trisha hesitated.
Rowan's voice echoed in her mind.
Date whoever you want.
She looked down at her coffee.
Then back at Daniel.
"Sure," she said.
Daniel grinned.
"Friday night?"
"Friday night."
They exchanged numbers.
As Daniel walked away, Trisha leaned back in her chair.
For the first time in days, she felt a small sense of control return.
Her life didn't revolve around Rowan.
Or vampires.
Or supernatural marks.
She could still choose her own path.
She reached for her bag.
And froze.
The mark was burning again.
Hot.
Intense.
Far stronger than before.
Trisha slowly turned her head.
Across the street, standing beside a black car, Rowan D'Arcy was watching her.
His expression was completely unreadable.
But his eyes had seen everything.
And the mark burned like fire beneath her skin.