Lora on the bed on a satin white satin nightgown. She had been turning Left and right.
The bedchamber was dark, velvet drapes drawn tight against the moonlight.
Lora tossed beneath the sheets—skin flushed, breath uneven.
The dreams were stronger tonight.
Not shadows, not fragments.
Memories.
Forbidden memories.....
She stood in a grand, golden hall—candles flickering in sconces.
A tall man approached—eyes molten gold, dark hair falling past his shoulders.
Not Dorian.
This man's voice was softer—his touch reverent.
"But I'm married Rolan," she said to the man
"Come back to me," he whispered, fingers trailing down her arm. "he doesn't love you like I do. Besides you promised to get over him, you don't love him either."
The scent of bloodwine, of spice and leather, enveloped her.
He touched her soft belly as he whispered into her ears," Once he is dead, we'll have our baby and get married".
A ring shines on her hand as she said, "I'm not sure about this, Rolan, the crimson court wants us together, and he has been kind to me all along".
"Dorian thought this baby was his," she said sadly
"You will not speak his name beside me again"
She gasped as his mouth covered hers, painfully, hungrily, desperately.
Her body melted into him, familiar, aching.
Then someone was at the door.
Dorian.
And then, steel rang.
A blade. Blood.
Dorian's face, twisted with rage.
"Traitor," he snarled. "What have you done, Rolan !"
The scene shattered—Lora jolting awake with a cry.
Her skin was damp with sweat.
The silk binding on her wrist burned faintly, pulsing.
Now she knew the difference.
The rival king. Her lover.
Dorian had been her husband.
Had it really happened?
Before she could think further, the chamber door burst open—Dorian storming inside, cloak swirling.
He crossed to her bed in an instant—gripping her shoulders.
"You cried out," he said, voice hoarse. "Another dream?"
Lora swallowed hard—her pulse racing beneath his touch.
"I saw him." Her voice trembled. "The one from... before."
Dorian's jaw clenched. "You will forget him."
His grip tightened—eyes glowing crimson now.
"You are mine," he growled. "No other will take you from me again."
Before she could protest—his mouth claimed hers, fierce and possessive.
Her body betrayed her—heat surging beneath his touch.
Even as she remembered part of her had rebelled,
Had ached for the other man, her hands tangled in Dorian's hair, pulling him closer. This was her husband anyway.
A knock at the outer door.
A breathless guard.
"My lord, another message. Left at the gate."
Dorian tore himself away, striding to the doorway.
He opened the door to take it.
A second rose. White, stained crimson.
And beneath it—a note in elegant script:
"Soon, my queen. Remember me. — R."
Dorian's fangs bared in fury.
"Ronan," he hissed.
Outside the castle walls, beneath the cover of night, Ronan, King of the Northern Clans, watched from horseback.
The same man from Lora's Forbidden Dreams.
And now, he will come to her.
_____
The crimson Summons
The first snow fell before dusk. The sky bled pale crimson as the frost-laced wind whispered through the high turrets of House Virel, Dorian's ancestral fortress. Lora stood at the window of her chamber, watching it all in silence, as the world beyond turned cold and silent, just like the thoughts in her mind.
She had been here for weeks now, ensnared, protected, loved, and lied to. Dorian's arms had become both her solace and her cage. Their nights burned with heat, but their days chilled with secrets.
She still didn't know the full truth. Not about the past. Not about what she had done to betray the Crimson Court. And certainly not about what she was becoming again.
A knock interrupted the stillness. It wasn't her maid. The knock was heavy—measured like the beat of a war drum. She turned slowly.
The butler entered without meeting her eyes. In his gloved hand was a scroll sealed in black wax and crimson ribbon. He bowed and whispered, "For Lord Dorian."
Lora felt a pang of unease as he left. Something in the air had changed. Even the shadows in the corners of her chamber seemed to stretch longer now.
She found Dorian in his study, the hearth roaring behind him. He wore his black velvet coat, embroidered with dark silver threads like dripping veins. When she entered, he looked up from ancient parchment, sensing the shift before a word was spoken.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and controlled.
She handed him the scroll.
The wax cracked under his thumb. The scent of old blood spilled into the room like a silent scream.
He read it. And for the first time since she'd known him, truly known him, she saw his hand tremble.
"What does it say?" she whispered.
He looked at her, jaw set like iron. "They've summoned you."
Lora's pulse stuttered. "Who?"
"The Crimson Court."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
"They demand your presence," he continued, standing slowly, voice calm but lethal. "At Vermillion Keep. The Midwinter Council meets in three nights' time."
She stepped back, as if struck.
"Why? What do they want from me?"
Dorian moved to the decanter and poured a measure of bloodwine. He didn't drink it. Just stared into the glass like it could offer him answers he didn't want to say aloud.
"I have told you once my love, they see you as a threat," he said. "A relic of a time they want buried. The bride who once betrayed everything. The woman who dared to walk away from the her destiny."
Her knees buckled slightly. She caught herself on the edge of the desk. The room felt colder now—thicker with invisible hands closing around her throat.
"I don't remember it," she whispered. "I don't even know if I believe it."
"It doesn't matter." Dorian finally looked at her again. "The truth is irrelevant to the Court. All they need is the scent of blood on your hands."
"And what will they do to me?"
Dorian's heart skipped a beat as he took a long, slow breath. "They will test your loyalty. Your purity. Your bond to me. They will see if you are a danger to the ancient order." His voice hardened. "And if they find fault, they will sentence you. Torture. Imprisonment. Death. But I will never let that happen"
A sharp silence followed. Lora's fingers clenched around the carved wood of the desk. She met his gaze and saw something even more terrifying than fury,desperation.
"Then let me face them," she said. "Let me prove myself."
His eyes darkened.
"I will not hand you over like a sacrificial lamb."
She stepped forward. "You just said they fear me. If that's true, they must believe I'm powerful. Then maybe I am."
"No." Dorian's voice cracked like a whip. "You don't understand what you're asking. The Council is a den of serpents. Each one as ancient and cruel as time itself. They will see you as weak,and if you show fear, they'll devour you."
"Then teach me how not to be afraid."
The words hung between them like a blade.
He moved closer, slowly, with the quiet danger of a storm behind a dam. He stopped just inches from her, his breath brushing her skin.
"I have already done unspeakable things to protect you," he said, voice low. "Bind your memories. Hide your nature. Fought off assassins sent to silence you. Many unspeakable things you have not heard"
Her throat dried. "Why?"
His hand lifted—tender, trembling—as he cupped her cheek.
"Because I made a promise to the woman you were once. And I'm in love with the one you are now."
She froze. "But… I betrayed you once. Didn't I?"
He looked away, jaw tight. "You keep saying this over and over again."
"Then why.... tell me this last time"
"Because I couldn't stop loving you, even when you chose another. Even when you walked away from our bond and stood at his side."
Tears filled her eyes, though she couldn't say why. Maybe from guilt. Maybe from the fire stirring in her blood. Maybe from something older, deeper—something buried that wanted to rise.
Dorian exhaled. "You will go. I cannot stop that. But I will go with you. I will stand beside you. And if they reach for you, they'll pull back stumps."
He pulled her close, his lips against her forehead. Not a lover's kiss. A vow.
"And if they touch you, Lora… I will burn the Court to ash. No one hurts what's mine"
---