CHAPTER 371: THE FIRST DATE

Vincent/Vaelthor~

As Nicholas and Sylthara drifted away from the breakfast table, their footsteps echoed down the corridor—soft, rhythmic, then fading like a dying heartbeat. The sound lingered long after they were gone, stretching the silence that followed until it felt unbearable. A weight settled in my chest, heavy and unrelenting. The room, once warm with chatter and clinking cutlery, now felt hollow—too vast, too quiet, as if every shadow was leaning closer to listen to the storm brewing inside me.

Sylthara—my sister, my tether to sanity after everything we’d survived—was walking straight into uncertainty. Entrusted to a hybrid I barely knew. I wanted to trust Nicholas; gods, I tried to. But the thought of her out there, beyond my reach, gnawed at me like teeth in the dark. What if he noticed something? The way her aura flickered when she was anxious? The faint, unnatural pulse of her energy she still couldn’t control? If he sensed the truth—what we were, what we’d hidden—it could all come undone. Our careful disguise, the fragile mask we’d built together... gone in an instant.

I should have stopped her. I should’ve stood, argued, done something. But before the words could form, a gentle touch anchored me to the present.

Katrina’s hand brushed mine—warm, grounding, yet electrifying enough to send a shiver through me. I looked up into those piercing blue eyes, alive with that impulsive, reckless spark that quickly disarmed me. Her reddish-blonde hair caught the morning light, gleaming like threads of fire falling over her shoulders. And beneath it all, the mate bond thrummed between us—ancient, demanding, impossible to ignore.

"Vincent!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugged at my sleeve. "Now that they’re off doing their thing, let’s make the most of this. Come on, a real date! Just you and me. We could start in the gardens—there’s this hidden path lined with roses that smell like heaven—and then sneak out to the nearby town. No guards, no protocols. What do you say? Please?"

I hesitated, my thoughts splintering into a hundred guarded calculations. The demon realm had taught me one thing above all else—never trust too easily. Down there, trust was currency and betrayal was the only constant. The air had always tasted of ash and fear, shadows whispering secrets in the dark.

But here, under this mortal sun, everything was unbearably alive. The colors too sharp, the sounds too loud, the emotions too raw. It was a world that felt like it could shatter with one wrong move.

And yet—her voice pulled at me. A quiet plea, soft but binding, wrapping around my resolve like ivy creeping up stone. I could feel the bond between us humming, urging me to bend, to give in.

"Katrina..." I said at last, my tone low, uncertain. "I don’t know. Winter—she’s all I have. Leaving her behind feels... wrong."

She stepped closer, closing the distance between us until her warmth brushed against mine. The faint scent of wildflowers clung to her skin, laced with something wilder—untamed and magnetic. It clouded my thoughts, made it harder to think straight.

"Oh, Vincent," she murmured, her lips curving into a pout that was equal parts mischief and charm. "She’ll be fine. Nicky’s a good guy—he’s like a brother to me. You can trust him." Then her eyes glinted with teasing light as she tilted her head, voice dropping into a playful whisper. "And besides... don’t you want to spend time with me? Your mate?"

Her fingers brushed mine, sending a flicker of warmth racing up my arm.

"Or..." she smirked, stepping even closer until her breath ghosted against my jaw, "are you already tired of me?"

The word "mate" sent a jolt through me, stirring the shadows I commanded. I wanted revenge for my mother’s death at her parents’ hands, to shatter this kingdom from within. Yet here I was, crumbling under her gaze. "Of course not," I murmured, forcing a charming smile that hid the storm inside. "How could I ever tire of you? Alright, let’s go. But if anything feels off..."

"It won’t!" she squealed, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the doors. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a light piercing my darkness, and for a moment, I let myself forget the guilt clawing at my soul—betraying Mother’s memory, risking Winter for this forbidden pull.

Because this thing between us wasn’t just attraction; it was compulsion. Every breath I took seemed to sync with hers, every heartbeat a drum summoning me closer. How could I fight that? How could I refuse her—the one person who made me want to forget the blood, the fear, the centuries of shadow carved into my soul?

Pleasing her didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like survival.

*******

We stepped out into the royal gardens, the sun assaulting my enhanced senses like a thousand needles. The sun shouldn’t have been this bright. Back in the demon realm, light always had a weight to it—heavy, harsh, or blood-red. Here, in the mortal world, it was soft. It painted everything in gold, turning the morning dew into shards of crystal. Even the air felt too clean, almost innocent. It unsettled me.

Katrina skipped ahead before stopping a few feet away, the hem of her white dress brushing against the grass as she turned toward me with that unguarded smile. "Well, Vincent," she said, her voice melodic and fearless, "are you ready for our first official date? I’ve planned everything!"

Planned. The word itself sounded foreign to me. Back home, planning meant survival—how to steal food, where to hide from demons stronger than you, how to stay alive one more night. Not... whatever this was. Still, I managed a grin, tugging my dark jacket into place to look composed. "Lead the way, my lady. I’m all yours for the day."

"Good answer," she said, looping her arm through mine before I could react. Her warmth hit me like sunlight. Too bright. Too close. But I couldn’t pull away.

As we wandered through the royal gardens, Katrina pointed things out with the wide-eyed excitement of a child showing off her secret treasures. Every gesture was alive with pride. She led me past beds of white roses that shimmered faintly with a celestial glow, their petals glinting like they had been kissed by starlight. A fancy looking pond lay nearby, its surface rippling under some invisible enchantment, the fish below flickering like molten gold beneath glass.

Then my gaze caught on a line of towering marble statues. The first depicted a breathtaking woman in an elegant gown, her hand raised high, holding the moon itself aloft—a vision of serene power. Beside her stood another figure, and I recognized her almost instantly: Katrina’s mother. She was sculpted in a long, flowing dress that clung to her form with warrior-like grace, her chin tilted upward in quiet defiance. Next to her, Katrina’s father was immortalized in gleaming battle armor, his expression resolute. A few steps down stood her uncle Jacob, and several more figures—faces I didn’t know, but all carved with the same reverence reserved for gods.

Her world shimmered with light and grandeur, so radiant it almost hurt to look at.

"This was built before I was even born," Katrina said with a trace of pride, her fingertips trailing reverently along the carved base of her mother’s statue. Sunlight poured over the marble face like a blessing, casting sharp edges of light across the figure’s serene features. "There are statues like this of my family all over the kingdom—even beyond its borders. People worship them."

She paused, her expression softening into something more tender, a faint smile curving her lips. "Mom hates it—she says it’s too much. But Dad insisted. He believes people need symbols of strength to hold onto."

Strength. The word tasted bitter in my mouth. I almost laughed at the irony. If she knew what her parents had done to mine, she wouldn’t be smiling like that. Yet somehow, her joy—so bright, so unguarded—was disarming.

"They all look... formidable," I said evenly, masking the tremor beneath my voice.

Katrina giggled, the sound light and unburdened. She looped her arm through mine, tugging me a little closer. "Formidable? You sound like you’re giving a history lecture. Just say scary. They’re terrifying when they’re angry. Especially Grandma."

"I can imagine," I murmured, forcing a half-smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Inside, my stomach churned. Zane. The Lycan King. The man whose claws had likely torn my mother apart. And Queen Natalie—his wife, his partner—whose celestial powers had probably sealed my father into eternal darkness.

And here I was, walking hand-in-hand with their daughter. Pretending that I was: A wolf. A potential ally.

A liar.

"Hey," she said suddenly, looking up at me. "You’re quiet again. Don’t tell me I’m boring you?"

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "You could never bore me."

Her grin softened into something gentler. "Then what is it?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze—those blue eyes that mirrored the very sky above us. "Just... getting used to all this." I gestured vaguely at the vibrant garden. "It’s different from what I’m used to."

"Different good or different bad?"

I hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Different overwhelming."

She laughed and squeezed my hand. "You’ll get used to it. Come on. There’s something I want to show you."