Chapitre 3: The Marriage
Asher's words hung in the air, the silence thick with anticipation. His heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to stand tall, eyes locked on the judge as she slowly turned toward him. The shift in the room was palpable—an electric charge, a tension that no one in this twisted court had expected. The vampires, silent and uncertain, exchanged wary glances, unsure of what was about to happen.
The judge's lips parted in a thin, amused smile as she regarded him. She took a step forward, her black lace gown trailing behind her like an inky shadow. The mask covering her eyes seemed to gleam with a dark, knowing glint as she surveyed the room, her gaze lingering on Asher for a moment longer than anyone else.
Mr. Evergland, his face unreadable, watched the exchange carefully, his hand resting casually on the arm of his throne-like chair. A quiet murmur rippled through the vampire assembly—some intrigued, others unsure, and a few deeply unsettled.
The judge's voice broke the silence, calm but laden with a chilling weight. "Very well," she said, her tone cool and deliberate, her gaze never leaving Asher. "You've made your choice. You want to challenge this union, to save your sister... but you do so with yourself as the prize. Then let us make it official."
Asher's breath caught in his throat. The weight of her words—official—settled on him like a thick blanket. The air in the room seemed to freeze, time hanging in the balance.
Before he could fully comprehend the implications, the judge raised her hand, and the crowd instantly fell into a stunned silence. Her voice rang out once again, but this time it carried a finality that resonated through the marble walls.
"Tonight, Asher of the Kapella family," she announced, her voice steady and sure, "you shall not only interrupt our ceremony... you will replace it. On the spot. We will honor the bond you have offered, and in doing so, I will bind you to me."
A collective gasp spread through the room, the vampires exchanging uneasy glances. Asher's heart skipped a beat, but he held his ground, eyes narrowing as he tried to process the judge's words.
"W-what do you mean?" he stammered, unsure if he had heard correctly. He hadn't thought this through—hadn't imagined it could go this far. His mouth went dry, and panic clawed at him. "I... I didn't mean—"
The judge smiled, but there was no warmth in it. She raised an eyebrow, a sharp and cruel amusement flickering in her gaze. "Did you think there would be no consequences? That you could simply disrupt our world without becoming part of it? No, Asher. You have made your offer. You have pledged yourself to me. And now, you shall fulfill it in the most fitting way."
Asher's eyes darted to his sister, whose face was pale and stricken with confusion. She had no idea what was happening, no idea how deep in this he was now. His gaze flicked to the prince, his enemy, whose face had twisted into an expression of fury. Asher's heart pounded. This wasn't just about his sister anymore—it was about him, about his life, and about the way he had just sealed his fate.
"No," Asher said, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it. He clenched his fists. "I'm not doing this. This was never—"
The judge's voice cut through his protest like a knife. "You have no say in this now, Asher. You made the offer. You proclaimed your devotion. You chose to enter this game, and you will follow through. There is no turning back. I have made the decision for you."
She turned her gaze to Mr. Evergland, and with a quick, sharp motion, he nodded in agreement, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Let it be done," he said, his tone final.
Before Asher could protest further, the judge stepped closer, her movement slow and deliberate. She reached up and, with a single, elegant motion, removed the mask from her face. The room gasped collectively as the full intensity of her gaze met his—those blood-red eyes, glowing with something primal, something ancient.
"You belong to me now, Asher," she said softly, her words laced with dark promise. "Whether you like it or not."
Asher's breath hitched as she moved even closer. The room seemed to close in around him as she placed her cold hand on his chest, her touch sending a shiver through him. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to scream. But there was nowhere to go now. No escape.
"Do you accept?" she whispered, her lips just inches from his ear. "Do you truly understand what this means? That by offering yourself, you have now become mine, in every sense of the word?"
Asher didn't answer immediately. His mind raced. This was not what he had planned. He had hoped to delay the ceremony, to find some way to stop the madness that had begun. But now, everything was slipping through his fingers. The judge's voice was like a trap, a seduction he couldn't escape from.
His eyes, filled with loathing and desperation, met hers. "I accept," he said, his voice low, but unmistakable.
The judge smiled, a smile that chilled him to his very core. "Good," she purred. "Then let us make this official."
In that moment, the judge turned back to the crowd, her eyes sweeping over them as she held out her hand to Asher. With a slow, deliberate motion, she pulled him toward her. The crowd began to murmur, their hushed voices like a distant thunderstorm, rising with the anticipation of what was to come.
The ceremony, so carefully prepared, was no longer about the prince and Asher's sister. It was now about them—the judge and her new consort.
The judge's voice rang out once more, cold and commanding.
"Let it be known," she said, her gaze sweeping the room. "Asher of the Kapella family is now bound to me. From this moment forth, he is my chosen."
The finality of her words hit Asher like a wave, but there was no turning back. He was trapped, bound by his own choices, his own desperate attempt to protect his sister. He had just become a pawn in their deadly game, and there was no escape.
The judge turned back toward Asher, a smug, almost predatory grin stretching across her lips. She seemed entirely pleased with the way the situation had unfolded, and it sickened him.
"I take you, Asher Kapella, to be my husband," she began, her voice a low, hypnotic drawl, "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish..."
"Till death do us part..." Asher spat the words through gritted teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes never left hers, burning with unspoken fury.
She laughed softly, shaking her head as if he had missed the point entirely. "No, no... until we are forgotten by time itself," she purred, her voice a dangerous whisper. "You'll be bonded to me, Asher. No matter where you go, I will find you. Not even death will set you free."
A shiver of revulsion ran down Asher's spine, but he didn't flinch. He only tightened his grip on his fists, his jaw locked in defiance.
The judge's smile widened, cold and calculating. Without breaking eye contact, she raised her hand, her fingers delicate as they glided across the air. Her sharp nail sliced into her palm with a clean, almost deliberate motion, the dark blood spilling down her wrist in slow, deliberate drops.
She turned her hand toward him, the blood dripping onto the lace of her sleeve.
"Drink up," she whispered, her voice almost too soft, too sweet. But there was no mistaking the gleam in her eyes—a dangerous, hungry glint that only fueled Asher's fury.
He tsked under his breath, disgust boiling in his chest. But he couldn't afford to show weakness now—not in front of her, not in front of anyone. Without a second's hesitation, he grabbed her wrist, his fingers biting into her skin as he pulled her hand toward him.
For a brief moment, his gaze locked onto hers—pure loathing and defiance burning in his expression. He parted his lips and pressed them against the cut in her palm, his tongue flicking out to catch the blood that oozed from her wound. He didn't break eye contact. He couldn't let her see him flinch, couldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his disgust.
She watched him, her smile growing as he reluctantly drank her blood, savoring his resistance. It was clear that his hatred, his unwillingness to submit, only delighted her more. The deeper he drank, the more that pleased her. She saw the fury in his eyes, and it fed her in ways he couldn't even begin to understand.
It was then, in the midst of their twisted exchange, that the noise of the room suddenly broke through the tension. The audience had been watching in stunned silence, but now they erupted into applause, their cheers filling the air like a tidal wave.
"Long live the Judge!" The crowd's cheers echoed in the chamber, and Asher's stomach twisted with disgust. They had almost forgotten the audience was there, absorbed entirely in the grotesque spectacle.
But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the twisted bond that had just been sealed.
The crowd's applause reverberated around Asher's skull, but it felt distant, like a hollow echo, as if he were no longer part of the world he had once known. The reality of what had just occurred—the bond, the ceremony, the twisted union—was sinking in. He was trapped now, and no matter how much he hated it, there was no escaping.
The Judge stood before him, her smile cool and triumphant. She reveled in the sight of him, her eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction, as if she had just claimed a new toy. But this wasn't a game. Not for him.
Her fingers brushed against his, her grip tightening as she tugged him closer, her cold touch sending a chill down his spine. He didn't flinch. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
"Now that the ceremony is complete, I think there's one more thing that needs to be done," she purred, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. "A final seal to ensure our bond is unbreakable, Asher."
Before he could react, she was behind him, her movement swift and fluid. Asher's heart stuttered in his chest, a sense of dread overtaking him as she leaned in, her breath cold against his ear.
Her hand reached up, fingers threading through his hair, forcing his head back with an almost delicate touch. He could feel her power, her control, and despite the fury rising in his chest, he couldn't stop her. Not now. Not when everything was already lost.
"You're mine now, Asher," she whispered, her voice a dark lullaby that twisted in his gut. "Mine to claim, mine to own. Your blood... your soul... you belong to me."
He tensed as he felt her fangs graze his neck, the sensation almost too intimate, too possessive. He could feel the heat of her breath, the sharpness of her hunger. But this wasn't just a bite—it was something far darker.
And before he could even brace himself, she sank her teeth into the soft skin of his neck.
The sharp sting of pain shot through him, and Asher's body instinctively jolted, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound. He could feel her fangs sinking deeper, marking him, claiming him in a way that went beyond the ritual they had already performed. It was more than just blood—it was a statement, a seal that could never be undone.
Her lips were cold against his skin, but her presence felt suffocating, overwhelming. As she fed, her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, forcing him to remain still. Her fangs scraped against the tender flesh of his neck, and for a moment, he could feel his pulse quicken under the weight of her dominance.
His vision blurred, the world spinning as the blood loss and the bond she had so carefully woven into him took hold. He felt her power seeping into him, an invisible tether forming between them, one that could never be severed. And as much as he fought it, as much as he loathed her, he knew it was done. He was bound to her now, body and soul.
She drank deeply, savoring every drop as if it were the sweetest nectar. Asher's breath came in shallow gasps, but he fought to stay conscious, to resist the pull of her. He had to endure this. He had to outlast her.
Finally, she pulled away, her eyes flashing with something darkly triumphant. A thread of blood lingered on her lips, the mark of her claim on him.
She looked at him with a cold, satisfied smile, her voice a soft murmur in his ear. "You're mine now, Asher. You'll always be mine. No one will ever take you from me."
His neck throbbed, a dull, aching reminder of the bond that had just been sealed. But beneath the pain, beneath the dread, there was something else—something that burned with the intensity of his hatred for her and everything she stood for. He would never be her pawn. He would never love her, no matter how deeply she tried to bind him to her.
But for now, the battle was hers.
The crowd's cheers erupted again, louder this time. Their excitement, their adoration of the spectacle, felt sickening to him. They had all watched as the Judge claimed him, and now they celebrated it like some twisted victory.
His head still spun, but he lifted his chin, trying to regain some semblance of control. He couldn't let them see how much this hurt. He couldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him broken.
The Judge turned back toward the crowd, her grip still firm on his arm, her presence radiating a power that now felt tethered to him.
"Let us all celebrate," she said, her voice cool and commanding, as if the entire room were hers to control. "Asher Kapella, the newest addition to the Evergland clan."
The crowd erupted in cheers once more, their applause deafening. Asher, his neck still stinging from the bite, didn't move. He didn't react. He was just another piece in their game now, bound to a woman he despised.
But inside, a fire still burned. It hadn't been extinguished yet. It never would be. He would find a way out of this. He would find a way to undo the bond.
Because he refused to be her possession.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone