Chapter 12 #3
A masked vampire stepped forward, a gleaming silver sword on his hip. He was covered head to toe. "We’ll take him to the jails for the night, but the illegal sale of blood is a criminal offense. He won’t be coming back to hurt you."
"I’m so thankful that my daughter found out this monster’s plans. I can’t imagine someone wanting to trick a human into marriage just to sell their blood to the highest bidder." The human man shuddered, but it was slimy and vile. Fake.
This wasn’t happening. Not to him. It was all a dream.
Vesperin’s sobs grew louder as the authorities began to take Rhyden away.
He couldn’t speak. Words had been stolen from him.
He could only watch as his Soulbond, his wife, stood by and let him be taken away, the two humans at her back, holding her with force as tears ran down her cheeks.
"Forgive me," she cried.
It was all a blur. A blur of shock, one of which Rhyden didn’t quite awaken from for some time.
The first night in a cell of silver. His damning hearing—no justice to be found as the evidence had been clearly laid out.
Planted documents of Rhyden’s so-called plans to marry Vesperin, then sell her blood. A con, they all called it.
Never knowing that she had been the biggest con and liar of them all.
She never even showed up to his hearing, not even as his sentence was read:
Five hundred years in Dark Star Hold, the galaxy’s most revered prison ship.
So, for five hundred years, Rhyden sat and waited.
He made friends with all the wrong criminals, took every beating, fought his way to the top of the food chain, renounced everything.
No jewels, no money. It was all meaningless.
Possessions were what got him into the trouble he was in—his money had painted a target on his back for those con artists.
And in those five hundred years, he knew his mortal bride and Soulbond had died, so had her father.
Her death shouldn’t sting so much; though, it did.
When his sentence was served, he still searched for her.
But the girl named Vesperin Vox—Vesperin Valkar—was a ghost, if that had even been her real name.
Rin woke to a cold room and a pounding head.
She moaned lowly, blinking blearily to clear the fuzziness from her vision. It didn’t seem to be working. She tried again. And again. Reached up to rub a hand over her eyes, except—
She couldn’t move her hand.
"What?" Rin mumbled, yanking on her arm, only to find resistance and a soft clanging noise.
That woke her up.
Wide-eyed, Rin twisted, finding a pillow under her, cotton rubbing against her cheek as she craned her head up. Her arms were tied above her, dark silk looped around her wrists, tethered to a wrought iron frame of a headboard.
Suddenly, it all came crashing back to her.
The motel, Cyrus’s hands on her, the shattered window, and…
Rhyden Valkar.
Oh no.
Rin struggled in earnest, tugging on her arms, as she looked wildly about the room, finding the simple bed she was on, tucked against a wall with dark paint.
There were black curtains along one wall—concealing a window?
Two doors. One on the far wall, near a simple dresser, and the other on the right side of the bed.
Not much else in the room was of note. Nothing to let her know about where she was.
She knew who she was with, but nobody knew where the infamous vampiric crime lord’s home base was. This was bad. Really, really bad.
Her ears strained to hear, but it was silent. She knew it wouldn’t be for long. She had no idea how long she had slept, but she had to hurry.
Rin sat up as best as she was able, twisting her upper body to get leverage against the headboard as she braced her bare feet against it, and tugged with all her might.
Her shoulders strained as she worked the thinner part of the silken tie against a rough piece of metal on the headboard, sawing it.
Pieces of thread unraveled, but it wasn’t enough.
Her eyes darted between the doors and headboard, expecting Valkar to appear at any moment.
Murder had been in his red eyes at the motel. What if he wanted to… more than hurt her? She was tied to a bed, after all.
A small whimper escaped Rin as she worked, sweat beading on her nape and trickling down her spine.
When her arms trembled from how desperately she sawed them back and forth, the threads of the silk snapped, unraveling from her left wrist as they pooled on the cotton sheets.
Immediately, she reached up and untied the other loop.
It came undone easily. Had it been Valkar who had tied her?
Or the two masked men? Either way, they hadn’t done a good job.
On shaking legs, she stood, feeling more sweat slip down her back. Still in her thin grey shirt and leggings, she shivered as dark spots speckled the corners of her vision. She didn’t have her phone or bag—or her medication…
Rin swallowed, feeling entirely alone. Where was Cyrus?
She had to get to him. She didn’t know what Valkar would do if he realized Cyrus was the Prince of Sibeth—use him for ransom, no doubt.
She kept her steps light as she crept to the nearest door, but the handle was locked. "Dammit," she mumbled under her breath.
A soft noise from outside the door drifted to her, and she held her breath, backing away, hand raised as if to fight whoever it was with her bare fists.
When she didn’t hear anything again, she crept to the other door, feeling like her time was running out.
Tension lined every inch of her body as she wrapped her pale fingers around the knob of the other door, praying it was unlocked.
As she turned it, it clicked open, and she sighed, carefully sliding it open, her heart in her throat.
She peeked through the sliver of the open crack, seeing muted darkness. The shadows were chased away as she opened the door fully. A bathroom.
Empty.
A simple shower and tub, a toilet, and a counter with many drawers.
She saw her reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink, her white hair wild.
The bruise on her jaw from the withered assholes at the gas station was dark purple, and it hurt when she opened her mouth too wide.
Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, revealing her veins underneath.
She felt like she couldn’t take a full breath.
Casting a look behind her to the bedroom, she crept inside the bathroom, immediately going to the drawers and opening them.
Empty—she shut the top drawer. The next held only a hairbrush.
This was weird. What was this place? Some holding facility?
In the last drawer, a collection of hairpins.
Rin smiled. Jackpot. She grabbed one, weighing it in her hand.
It was silver, a small jewel inlaid at the tip—the deadly, pointed end.
Rin tucked the hairpin in the waistband of her leggings, ensuring everything was as she had found it as she tiptoed back to the bed and crawled on top, grabbing the cut silk ties as she arranged them over her wrists, tucking parts under the pillow to hide the fact she wasn’t tied.
And then, she waited.
It was an effort not to fall back asleep, and her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She was all too aware of the rush of her blood through her veins and the truth of where she was—the heart of Lunar City, at the mercy of a notorious vampire.
Rin didn’t have to wait long.
Her breath stalled in her lungs as she heard footsteps, drawing closer. The doorknob rattled softly as it turned, the door creaking open ominously.
Rin closed her eyes, making her breath level out.
Shoes scuffled over the floor, and her body tensed as the bed dipped at her feet.
It took everything inside her not to betray that she was awake with the soft whimper that wanted to fall free, or the wobble to her lower lip.
Please, let him go away, she prayed.
Something brushed over the top of her feet, and she couldn’t help it—she flinched.
The touch stilled, and she held her breath as a low laugh pierced the quiet.
"Look at you still playing tricks, wife. I know you’re awake."
Rin opened her eyes.
Only to find Rhyden Valkar sitting on the bed by her legs. His red eyes were shining a deep maroon, almost neon, as he studied her—no, consumed her.
He looked so different than the photos online.
His white hair was shorn closer to his scalp on the sides, the top messy in a way that made it look like he spent time on it.
His lashes were dark, lining those vampiric red eyes, and his skin was so pale that his veins were easily seen.
His dark button-up hung loose around his broad shoulders, the top few buttons undone to reveal his pale chest, and the small hint of a tattoo peeking out at the skin over his heart—the faint image of a swirl, but she could see nothing else.
Rin’s eyes narrowed as they stared at each other, and she kept her arms still above her.
Valkar’s lips quirked into a smirk. It was almost demeaning, in a way.
"There you are, wife. Did you sleep well?" The veins in his forearms bulged as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, the thick silver rings on his fingers catching in the low light of the room. "I’d apologize for tying you up, but we both know I’m not sorry. It’s the least you fucking deserve for what you did to me. "
Maybe it was her erratic heart, or the way her head was still pounding from whatever drugs he had given her to make her sleep, but she struggled to understand him. "What do you mean? What did I do to you?"
Her eyes widened as he shifted, until he sat at her hip, his fingers brushing the edges of her shirt as he braced a hand on the mattress and leaned down. Her fingers clenched around the silks. The hairpin burned against her side. Not yet.