Chapter 2
715words
When he came to on my lumpy sofa bed, the scents of antiseptic and toasting bread hung in the air.
He flexed his fingers, wincing at the hollow ache that radiated from his core.
The "Eternal Seal" on his chest functioned like a black hole, continuously devouring his vampire essence.
The betrayal had been swift and brutal—his most trusted council members had conspired with the radicals, binding his powers with an ancient ritual and dismantling his empire in a single night.
"Finally awake?" I asked.
His eyes found me across the room.
I stood there in an oversized t-shirt with a cartoon dog print, hair hastily pulled into a messy ponytail, my makeup-free face betraying a hint of concern.
In his former life, someone like me—a weak, barely-awakened werewolf—wouldn't have been permitted within a hundred yards of a being of his stature.
But now here he was, lying in my shabby apartment, dependent on my care.
"I…" he croaked, his voice like sandpaper, "Where is this place?"
"My place. Found you in an alley," I said, offering him a mug of warm water. "You've lost a lot of blood. I patched you up, but you really should see a doctor. And maybe call someone—family, friends—to come get you."
He took the mug, his fingertips ice-cold against mine, making me flinch involuntarily.
He drained the water in one long gulp, then stated flatly: "I can't remember anything."
Memory issues. The perfect cover story.
I stared into those fathomless eyes, searching for any hint of deception.
But I found only emptiness and caution staring back.
I sighed inwardly. Classic rich-people drama, complete with the convenient amnesia trope.
"Fine." I relented, deciding to play along. "You can crash here until your memory returns or you find your people. But…"
I tilted my chin up with mock seriousness, "I don't do charity cases. For rent, you handle cooking and cleaning. That's our 'contract'. Deal?"
Cael—an eight-hundred-year-old vampire king who had never so much as lifted his own goblet—regarded the audacious young woman before him, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
After a moment's silence, he gave a slight nod.
"Acceptable terms."
And just like that, our bizarre roommate arrangement began.
Cael proved to be a frighteningly quick study—from staring blankly at the microwave on day one to whipping up restaurant-quality pasta by day three.
He cleaned with military precision, treating each task like some sacred ceremony, leaving my apartment spotless in ways I'd never managed.
Meanwhile, I showed him around the neighborhood.
Since he "couldn't remember" anything, I taught him modern basics—mobile payments, driving, navigating supermarket aisles without looking lost.
I watched him study everyday objects with the intense focus of an anthropologist discovering a new civilization—equal parts amusing and strangely sad.
I almost started to wonder—could his amnesia actually be real?
Since he "couldn't remember" his name, I dubbed him "Galen" for the time being.
But beneath our peaceful routine, dangerous currents were stirring.
The supernatural underworld of New Sea City was in chaos following the Vampire King's disappearance.
While the usurpers carved up Cael's business empire like vultures, they dispatched their most lethal trackers—the "Night Hounds."
These magically-enhanced creatures could detect royal vampire bloodlines from miles away, and they were methodically combing every inch of the city.
One night, as we returned home, a stray cat in our hallway suddenly arched its back and hissed violently at seemingly nothing, every hair on its body standing straight.
I shrugged it off as typical cat behavior, but Cael's entire body went rigid beside me.
He could sense it—that sickeningly familiar presence passing nearby.
The Night Hounds.
They'd found his trail.
He subtly maneuvered himself between me and the threat, remaining there until the presence faded completely.
Oblivious to the danger, I continued rambling about neighbors who couldn't be bothered to use the trash chute.
Cael stared into the shadows, a cold, lethal glint entering his eyes for the first time since I'd found him.
He knew time was running out. He needed to break the seal quickly, or this innocent werewolf would be dragged into his blood-soaked world with no escape.
Yes—he'd identified me as a werewolf from the beginning. I was the only fool in this equation.
