A Taste for Danger

Prologue

1700s 

The air was thick with the scent of burning sage and nightshade, the acrid smoke coiling through the trees like a living thing. The witches stood in a circle around us, their chants rising in harmony with the wind, calling upon ancient powers older than time itself. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the shadows deepening as the ritual reached its climax.

In the center of the circle, bound by silver chains and iron shackles, was Sebastian Thorne. His once-noble visage was now twisted in rage and pain, his dark eyes burning with a hatred that could outlast eternity. He was more beast than man, his fangs bared, and his muscles taut as he fought against the bindings that held him. But no matter how much strength he summoned, the chains did not yield.

We had cornered him, driven him into this trap with the help of the witches—our allies in this grim endeavor. But it had not been without cost. My daughter, my beloved Annalise, had fallen by his hand, her blood spilled in the darkness of his wrath. She had been everything to me, and in his fury, he had taken her life, his regret coming too late to save her.

"Do it now," one of the witches hissed, her eyes glowing with unnatural light. "End this nightmare before he can escape."

With a shaking hand, I stepped forward, the dagger held tightly in my grasp. The blade was a relic of unimaginable power, forged in a time long forgotten, its edge gleaming with a cold light. It was the only weapon that could end Sebastian Thorne's reign of terror.

His gaze met mine, and for a brief moment, there was something human in his eyes—a flicker of sorrow, of loss, as he looked at me. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a fury so intense it nearly drove me to my knees.

"You dare to come before me," he spat, his voice a low, venomous growl. "After what you have taken from me?"

He lunged, but the chains held fast, the witches' spells binding him in place. I drove the dagger forward, straight into his heart, feeling the resistance as the blade met flesh and bone. Sebastian's roar of pain echoed through the forest, shaking the very earth beneath us.

The witches' chants grew louder, the air crackling with energy as the curse took hold. The dagger pulsed with a sickening light, its power seeping into Sebastian's body, forcing him to his knees. He gasped, his strength failing him, as the witches' magic bound him to an eternity of torment.

His eyes, once so full of fire, dimmed as the curse locked him in place, his body growing rigid as stone. I watched as he was forced to the ground, his limbs becoming immobile, his breath shallow as the last of his life was drained away—not to death, but to something far worse.

But before he succumbed, In a flash he lunged. Faster than any man could move. Pain seared through my side as his claws raked deep, tearing flesh and bone with a precision that spoke of centuries of practiced cruelty. I staggered back, my vision blurring as blood poured from the wound. Sebastian's lips curled into a wicked smile, his voice a low, guttural whisper. He fixed me with one final, chilling gaze,

"I curse you and your bloodline," he vowed, his words carrying the weight of a dark promise. "For as long as I lie in this tomb, your descendants will know no peace. My vengeance will be eternal, and you will suffer for what you have done. I will rise again, and when I do, your line will end."

With those words, his body collapsed into the coffin, the chains pulling him in as the earth opened beneath him. The witches sealed the coffin with their incantations, burying it deep beneath the forest floor. And then, silence.

But as I stood there, clutching my bleeding side, I could not shake the feeling that this was not the end. His curse hung over me like a shadow, a dark cloud that would follow me to my grave and beyond. My daughter's blood was on his hands, and for that, he would pay. I prayed that he would never be found, that the world would forget the name of Sebastian Thorne.

Centuries Later 

The darkness of my tomb was absolute, a void where time ceased to have meaning. I was trapped, bound by the curse that had been laid upon me, unable to move, to feed, to die. The witches' magic held me fast, a prison from which there was no escape.

But in the endless black, there were moments—fleeting, tantalizing moments—when the scent of blood would reach me. My senses, dulled by the centuries, would flare to life, my hunger gnawing at my very soul. It was always the same blood, the same lineage that had cursed me, the descendants of the man who had ended my reign.

Annalise.

I had known the name from the first time I sensed her blood, generations ago. Each Annalise that came near my tomb carried the scent of my beloved nemesis, the bloodline that had condemned me. I reached out to her, calling with what little power I had left, desperate to be free.

Throughout his eternal prison, one of them came so close—closer than any before. She stumbled upon my coffin, the seal weakened by time. She opened it, her breath catching as she gazed upon my still form. I could smell her fear, her curiosity. But she was too frightened. She ran, leaving the coffin ajar, my chance at freedom slipping through my fingers like sand.

Some profound time after, another Annalise was drawn to me. Her blood sang to me like a siren's call, but she never made it to my tomb. A scorned lover, blinded by jealousy, ended her life in a fit of rage, her blood soaking into the ground above to me. I could taste it, feel it, but it was not enough to break the curse. My hunger grew, my fury with it, as I lay powerless in the cursed coffin.

But then, decades later, something changed. I felt the earth tremble above me, heard the distant rumble of machinery as my tomb was unearthed from its resting place. The witches' spells had held for centuries, but now, at last, I was being brought back to the world of the living.

They moved my coffin, carrying it to a room above ground—an unfamiliar place, yet closer to freedom than I had been in so long. I could sense the change in the air, the faintest whisper of life beyond the walls that now encased me. And then, as if drawn by fate, she came.

In this new century, I feel her again. Annalise. The blood of my nemesis, so close I can almost taste it. She stumbled through the woods, drunk, scared, and lost. The earth trembled with her footsteps as she drew nearer to my prison, her fear and confusion palpable.

This time, she will not escape me. The centuries have weakened the magic that binds me, and her blood is the key to my awakening. She is the one I have been waiting for, the one who will finally set me free.

And when I rise, I will have my vengeance. The world will remember the name of Sebastian Thorne, and the bloodline that cursed me will pay for their betrayal.

Starting with her.

My beloved Annalise.