CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
23
Draven
“Didn’t think you’d actually show your face,” I scoffed, taking a languid sip from the delicate porcelain cup filled with artificial blood. Fake, yes, but it retained a raw edge – a metallic tang that mimicked the real thing... and left me parched. Thirsty. Damned thirsty. Did it satiate the gnawing hunger? Not quite. But it could take the edge off.
The human – the same one who’d tried to have me poisoned – sat across the polished mahogany table, dwarfed by the imposing imperial throne I occupied.
He was a study in rumpled ash – a faded t-shirt clinging to a surprisingly muscular build, jeans equally worn, and messy blonde hair accentuated by a nose ring. Average height, but his face was a mask of terror. The chattering of his teeth was practically audible, a symphony of fear that reverberated in the opulent chamber. Pathetic humans. Still utterly terrified of the Vimics, despite everything.
My gaze pinned the man across from me. Daniel Alder, wasn’t it? Morwenna’s little boyfriend. “I-I always t-take a Vimics’ invitation seriously,” he stammered, his voice betraying his apprehension. “Especially an invitation from you, my Lord.” Each word was punctuated by a tremor, his sweaty palms rubbing together in a nervous tic. Fear, or perhaps it was the sight of my six vampire guards flanking his chair like silent sentinels.
He knew any attempt at escape would be met with swift retribution, his blood a sacrificial offering to their insatiable hunger. I’d fed them the hapless fool he’d sent my way, a gruesome reminder of my power. Their hunger lingered, their hands hovering near him – some on the chair back, others brushing against his shoulder in a chilling caress. Every flicker of their eyes sent shivers down his spine, a potent source of his terror.
“Right,” I muttered, a curt dismissal as I eyed him across the mahogany table. My porcelain cup, still cradled in my hand, held the dregs of a recently finished drink. “So, the purpose of your little visit is abundantly clear. You did, in fact, receive the... packag e I sent your way.”
The very word sent a tremor through Daniel. It hung in the air, thick with unspoken threats, and I watched the flicker of fear dance in his eyes. “Y-yes, my Lord,” he stammered, the tremor evident in his voice. “I did.”
“Then you know precisely what you’ve done,” I said, my voice a low growl. A flick of my wrist sent the porcelain cup crashing onto the table. It spiderwebbed with cracks, and a terrified servant materialized beside me before I even issued an order. Her nimble fingers replaced the shattered cup with a pristine one, refilling it with the crimson elixir from the Vimics’ heirloom jug. She retreated in silence, rejoining the other servants huddled in the shadows.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Two cups, both filled with a red liquid. One, the lifeblood of a terrified human who attempted my demise. The other, the artificial sustenance that kept my vampiric form alive.
“Yes,” Daniel finally managed, his head bowed in a defeated nod. “I did try to poison you. But for a reason.”
I snorted, a harsh expulsion of air. “A pathetic excuse, I presume.”
“It was for Morwenna, my girlfriend,” he spat back, his head snapping up to meet my gaze. “You’ve kept her prisoner in this damned castle for weeks!” His hand slammed down on the table, a futile attempt at dominance quickly squashed by the heavy hand of one of my vampire guards. Before his defiance could escalate any further, the guard slammed him back into his chair with a snarl.
A sardonic twist pulled at my lips. “Oh, right,” I drawled, the mockery heavy in my voice, “you’re my woman’s… boyfriend.” The word was laced with disdain, a clear dismissal of his pathetic claim.
He recoiled, the disgust in his eyes mirroring my own. “You mean my woman,” he spat, his voice laced with a barely contained snarl. “What the bloody hell are you on about?”
“I’m saying Morwenna is mine,” I replied, my voice a low growl. There was no room for debate in my tone.
“Dude,” he scoffed, the casual address grating on my nerves. Here he was, facing his potential demise, and yet he maintained this… flippancy. Disgusting. It was almost as if Morwenna’s influence clung to him even in the throes of fear. He continued, oblivious to my silent contempt. “Morwenna and I have been together for six months. We’ve known each other for ages, even before I asked her to be my girlfriend. And as her boyfriend, I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Anything.” His voice rose with forced conviction, but it rang hollow to my ears. Just another Chimeran, spouting empty platitudes.
“You and your brainless bloodthirsty crew kidnapped my wife-to-be,” he said, the weight of the term settling heavily in the air, “and you think I won’t do everything in my power to get her back? Including putting a permanent end to a certain so-called ‘vampire lord’?”
His harsh retort washed over me. But it was the confirmation that truly stuck – Morwenna, my Morwenna, was to be bound to this... this oaf?
I clenched my fists, the very thought a provocation.
This buffoon would have me dissect the reasons for his utter lack of merit, the reasons for which the term ‘jackass’ seemed far too kind a description.
“Which wife are you referring to? The ones you work with at your stations, or the one you keep coming to my estate seeking... love potions for?” A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it hardened into defiance. My response was a direct hit, and I savored the flinch that betrayed his composure.
“So, those deliveries of love spells and potions you requested from the witches here,” I continued, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “were intended for Morwenna, weren’t they?”
My words hit a mark, exposing him like a cheap carnival trick. This delivery boy for that bloodsucking company had a free pass to the Vimics’ estate, and he wasn’t using it to collect coin. He was after a different kind of payment – a witch’s love potion. Not everyone felt inclined to pay for their desires, of course. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed such things. Nothing slipped past me in this damn castle, or on these grounds for that matter.
“So,” I continued, savoring the smirk that wouldn’t quite form on his face, “your ‘wife-to-be’ doesn’t exactly return your affections, huh?” I knew how to hit a nerve. It was a talent I’d honed to a fine edge.
“I’ve loved her for years, since goddamn high school,” he spat back, finally meeting my gaze. “Of course she’s meant to fall for me.” A desperate glint flickered in his eyes. “Don’t act all high and mighty. If you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you do the same? There’s nothing a love potion can fix when it comes to love, right?” His bravado was a joke, poorly veiled by a full-blown, teeth-baring grin. Every fiber of my being wanted to smash that smug grin into oblivion, but I kept my face a mask of steely resolve. No amusement would be granted to this lovesick fool.
“So, who did you apply the love potion to, then?” I questioned, a chill snaking up my arm as I gripped the handle of the delicate porcelain cup. It sat untouched on the table, a silent sentinel until I was ready. My half-breed blood pulsed in my veins, a constant thrumming hum that made lies, truth, and magic resonate like plucked strings. The harsh echoes of my father’s training after my mother’s death still haunted me. I loathed those drills at the time, but their rigor had become my shield.
He shifted nervously, ready to spin a yarn. Morwenna, naturally. That was his first, transparent attempt. But half-witches don’t forget. We smell deceit a mile away. “It certainly wasn’t Morwenna, was it?” I cut through his stammer before he could even form the lie. “And her half-sister rarely graces her home with her presence. So, if it’s not Morwenna and not the wisp of a sister, then it must be...” I paused, relishing the flinch that contorted his features. He knew where I was going, knew he wouldn’t need to finish the sentence.
“Alina Petrova, Morwenna’s mother,” I finished with a steely glint in my eyes.
His face drained of color. My exposure was a sucker punch, laying bare his pathetic attempt. The bastard son of the mayor, used to hide behind his father’s shadow. Employed as a glorified blood delivery boy for the vampires, no doubt a carefully crafted charade for the media. Lies piled on lies, a stench worse than any rotting corpse.
“Dammit,” he spat, frustration twisting his features. “How the hell did you figure it out?”
“It’s not how I know, Daniel Alder,” I growled, rolling his full name off my tongue like a curse. “It’s how you think you can call Morwenna your wife when she feels nothing for you. And using Alina to get to Morwenna because your stupid love potion didn’t work...”
A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes. “Why the righteous act, detective? You bat your eyelashes and flash those bedroom eyes, and women fall at your feet. But when I try a little harmless charm, you brand me a freak? We’re not so different, you and I. You just have the luxury of natural charisma, while mine comes in a vial, courtesy of a good witch.”
He started to rant further, but a meaty fist from one of the vampire guards connected with the back of his head, silencing him with a dull thud.
A dark chuckle escaped my lips. “So, after your pathetic attempt at enchanting Alina with that love potion, did you achieve your desired outcome?” I inquired, a touch of sarcasm lacing my voice.
“Morwenna would be by my side if you hadn’t abducted her,” he spat, frustration coloring his words.
“And who told you I abducted her?”
“Of course, you abducted her! You and your merry band of thugs, Theresa included, stormed into my aunt’s place and snatched my love right under my nose. Weeks my love was gone, no word, nothing.” Frustration choked his voice.
“Morwenna. She’s my servant now, under my rule, my power. She’s mine. She doesn’t leave me, and I’ll make sure she never comes back to you, ” I said, my voice dripping with possession. The very thought of that sniveling jackass, Daniel, laying a hand on her again was enough to ignite a firestorm of jealousy in my gut. It was palpable, a primal echo in my bones.
“No!” Daniel’s voice cracked, laced with a desperation that reeked of weakness. “No, no, no. You can’t just keep my wife prisoner in this damn mausoleum! She belongs with me. We need each other.” A humorless scoff escaped my lips. Need? Hardly.
He sputtered on, a pathetic attempt at a bargain. “My stepfather, the esteemed mayor, has servants. An abundance of them, in fact. I can offer you one, a trade for Morwenna’s freedom. I need her back...in my arms.” Disgust churned in my stomach. The way he spoke of her, of possession...it grated.
“Is it money you want?” he continued, his voice a desperate whine. “The mayor has plenty. Just release Morwenna. Please.”
I let out a low growl. “Spare me your pathetic offerings, human. I didn’t summon you here for bartering.”
“Then why?” He spat the word, his bravado brittle under the scrutiny of my guards, who tightened their grip on his shoulders. “I only came for Morwenna. And... them,” he added with a jerk of his chin towards the vampires flanking me. “Your bloodthirsty minions attacked my home. You’ve broken the damn truce faster than a starving beast on a fresh kill. My wife warned me about your kind.”
“So, you intend to report me?” A sardonic chuckle rumbled from my chest. “Lord Draven, breaker of a seven-hundred-year truce, is that the tale you intend to spin?” The weight of those centuries pressed upon me, each a flicker in the tapestry of memory.
A thousand years ago, fury had been my only companion.
I vividly recalled the plunge of steel, the heart torn from a body and hoisted aloft. The village below – men, women, children, babes in arms – all met their end in that crimson tide. Even the creatures of the sky weren’t spared. No life remained, not a flicker of warmth under the sun’s gaze.
From that field of blood, an empire rose, forged in the fires of my wrath.
Mercy was a stranger to me then. Yet, when a new settlement dared to rise from the ashes, I chose a different path – a bloody pact, a fragile peace I could shatter at will.
My voice, laced with the chill of ages, sent tremors through the Chimeran. Daniel, his face pale, could barely manage a stammered, “No. I won’t!” Ah, fear. A delectable emotion, wasted on such a witless creature.
I leaned back upon my obsidian throne, the cool porcelain of the chalice a stark contrast to the inferno within. A slow sip, then a pause, the proceain cup settling on the obsidian table with a dull thud. “Human,” I drawled, “tampering with a vampire lord’s drink is a fool’s errand, fraught with disastrous consequences.”
The pronouncement sparked a guttural chant from the assembled vampires. “Blood! Blood! Blood!” The raw hunger in their voices sent a delicious shiver down Daniel’s spine, a tremor I could almost taste.
“However,” I continued, savoring the shift in his demeanor, “considering your… connection to Morwenna, I shall offer a reprieve.”
The chant abruptly ceased, replaced by a mixture of confusion and barely contained disapproval. My loyal guard may have questioned my decision, but their silence spoke volumes of their unwavering loyalty.
The human scoffed, a pathetic sound that grated on my nerves. “Like a pass...?” he echoed, his brow furrowed in a display of mock outrage. I ignored the theatrics.
With a flick of my right finger, a shadow writhed in the corner before coalescing into a wraith-like servant. Her form trembled as she materialized, clutching a small, ebony box.
Gliding towards Daniel, she placed it on the polished mahogany table with a barely audible thud.
Then, with a bow that spoke volumes of her fear, she retreated back into the darkness.
Daniel’s gaze flicked between the box and me. “What’s this?” he ventured, his voice laced with suspicion.
“Open it,” I commanded, my tone brooking no argument.
With that, he opened the ebony box and peeped into it as his face contorted.
“Money?” he spat, the word laced with something more than surprise. “What use have I for such a vulgar thing?”
“Considering your… ill-advised attempt at poisoning,” I drawled, “I daresay your financial well-being is about to take a significant downturn. Your company will likely cut you off, and your stepfather, with his well-documented distaste for you, will likely seize the opportunity to sever all ties. This little sum,” I continued, gesturing towards the box, “might prove… helpful in such a predicament. Consider it a parting… gift.” More like farewell.
He scoffed, the sound harsh and humorless. “Generous? You call ruining my life a gift? I wouldn’t take a single copper piece from your bloodsucking clutches!”
“A choice, then,” I replied, my voice a low rumble. “Take the money, or leave it. Though, I daresay Morwenna wouldn’t be best pleased if you refused…”
The air crackled with barely contained fury. Daniel shot up from his chair, a snarl twisting his features. The vampire guards flanking him instinctively moved to restrain him, but with a flick of my hand, I dismissed them. Let him lash out. As long as he didn’t push the very buttons that could unleash the monster within, I could tolerate his theatrics.
“Morwenna!” he spat, his voice laced with desperation. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? Why her? What do you even want?”
Silence.
My lips remained sealed, a wall against his tirade.
“Everyone calls her a curse,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. “They say she entered my life and damned it. But I embraced the supposed curse. When the world turned its back on her, I was there. Waiting for her to fall into my arms. And if she stays here with you, you’ll be consumed by the same darkness...”
A sardonic snort escaped my lips. “Morwenna is mine. I claimed her first. I felt the pull of destiny long before you emerged from the shadows, dripping with the taint of violence.” Red, I made a mental note. The color of danger, of bloodlust. “And snatched her away from me,” he added, his voice thick with venom.
He surged forward, a spark of defiance igniting in his eyes. “Ah, so I see it clearly now! You think this obscene sum is a price for Morwenna? A mere transaction? You couldn’t be further from the truth. You don’t love her. You never could. You only see utility, a pawn to play in your own twisted game. And if you’re not using her, then where is she? Your precious servant? I don’t see any signs of her.” He craned his neck, searching the shadows with a desperate fervor.
The vast chamber was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the spectral glow of floating lanterns.
He hung his head low, fingers on the table. “I don’t know you, Lord Draven,” he muttered, his voice heavy with disillusionment. “The tales that circulate are whispers of fear – the merciless lord who razed a village to the ground after his queen perished. They use them to keep us mortals away from this cursed place, this gilded cage... Funny enough, here I am.”
He paused, his eyes lingering on me for a fleeting moment. “I can understand your pursuit of a lost love, of seeking some semblance of solace in Morwenna’s presence. But she’s not some ethereal queen, a pawn to be manipulated in your game of grief. She deserves more than blind devotion. She deserves warmth, the comfort of a lover’s embrace. She deserves someone who respects her choices, who listens to the whispers of her heart. If that’s not what you offer, then by the gods, you don’t deserve her.”
One thing I despise is whenever someone brings up my past queen to make a point, all I feel is a bubbling sensation of fury.
“As I’ve already stated, Morwenna. Is. Mine.” My voice rumbled like a coming storm as I clenched my fists, barely containing the inferno igniting within me.
“Then it seems I depart empty-handed. I wouldn’t sell her to you even if this charade is your warped sense of charity,” Daniel retorted, shoving the black box aside with a dismissive flick. He stepped aside from the chair, his intention to cross clear. But before he could take a single step, he pivoted, back turned towards the exit. “However,” he continued, a hint of twisted amusement curling his lip, “I do have a surprise for you, a rather…unpleasant one.”
And with that, he whipped his arm out, hurling a glint of silver directly at my forehead.
My heightened senses flared, instantly recognizing the weapon – a dagger.
Before it could even graze my skin, telekinesis snagged the projectile in mid-air, suspending it inches from my face. Daniel’s eyes widened in a mixture of terror and disbelief.
“You’re not just a vampire... you’re a witch!” he rasped, the question barely a whisper.
A collective roar erupted from the surrounding vampire guards. “He dared attack the King!” one bellowed.
“Abomination!” another shrieked.
“Get him!” The guards surged towards Daniel, who stumbled back, his bravado crumbling. I remained seated on my imposing throne, a detached amusement flickering in my gaze. The silver dagger, now a useless ornament, clattered onto the mahogany table beside me with a dull thud.
The audacity. He thought a simple dagger, a weapon designed to slay mere vampires, could harm me? This hybrid flesh, forged from both human and vampire blood, rendered me immune to their pathetic arsenal. Holy water, a bane for purebloods, held no sway over me either. I was more than just a king; I was a lord, a mage, and a being beyond their rudimentary understanding.
Daniel employed a dangerous tactic, knowing his muscular frame and time spent at the gym meant nothing against the other vampires. His weapon of choice? Garlic dust, laced with holy water. A whiff confirmed my suspicions – magic. And potent magic at that. A witch’s touch, perhaps? The concoction sharpened my senses, but held no sway over my immortal form.
However, the other, weaker vampires weren’t so fortunate. Sneezes erupted like a chaotic symphony, their enhanced senses overwhelmed by the pungent assault.
Daniel, in a panic, frantically dispersed the dust like a crazed perfumer. This, of course, wouldn’t faze the human servants who scurried away at the first sign of weakness.
My artificial blood remained untouched, the repugnant dust a barrier to consumption.
The vampires writhed on the ornate floor, their skin flushing and peeling, their guttural cries echoing through the castle.
Daniel, catching a glimpse of my unfazed visage, blanched.
Shock and fear replaced his bravado, sending him scurrying for the shadows.
A dark smile played on my lips.
I rose from the imposing throne, my booted feet thudding on the cold marble floor.
The air crackled with a chilling tension that mirrored the hunger gnawing at my insides.
This artificial blood, this pale imitation, did little to quell the primal thirst.
Tonight, there would be a reckoning. It’s a must.
“My Lord, please help us!”
“Save us!” the remaining guards whimpered.
Their pathetic pleas were mere background noise as I crushed them beneath my boots, their bodies forming a macabre pathway toward my retribution.
My enhanced senses painted a vivid picture – every tremor, every ragged breath, every flutter of panicked eyelashes. This was my domain, and I could feel it all. The hunt was on.
Morwenna ! The echoes of Daniel’s desperate yell bounced off the aged stones as he liberally sprayed a pungent garlic dust around him. Apparently, these damned vampires had a penchant for constant vigilance. Every last one of them, from the lowly guard to the elite warrior, choked and sputtered as the dust took hold, collapsing to their knees in a fit of coughing.
This human boy, I had to grudgingly admit, had come prepared. A single snap of that infernal canister, and the entire vampire contingent here lay incapacitated – all except me.
My heightened senses, honed by millennia of vampiric existence, picked up his frantic voice calling out from somewhere deeper within the manor.
He didn’t know his way around this labyrinthine structure, yet his determination to find Morwenna burned with a palpable intensity.
The sacrifice, the blood, the tears – he wouldn’t rest until his quest for her was complete.
“Morwenna! Can you hear me? Are you anywhere near?” His voice echoed through the halls, a desperate plea bouncing off the ancient stone walls. Six damned hallways I’d traversed, my nose twitching with the unmistakable tang of his human blood. There. I found him.
“Morwen—” The word died on his lips as I clamped a hand over his neck, the surprise on his face giving way to a primal struggle.
Amusingly enough, we found ourselves on the precipice of a rooftop.
He’d stumbled upon a balcony leading out from a room within, unaware of the sheer drop beyond.
I lifted him with one hand, his feet dangling uselessly, allowing him a panoramic view of the sprawling Nyx city below.
My heightened stature granted him a sight most humans wouldn’t live to experience – the panoramic view. Tall buildings stretched into the gloom, imposing like jagged teeth against the twilight. My brothers’ castle, a brooding silhouette in the distance, dominated the landscape. Combined, the sheer scale of our family’s holdings could easily encompass an entire nation. An empire, even.
The obsidian sky mirrored the turmoil within me.
Storm clouds choked the heavens, casting an oppressive darkness upon the world.
He kicked and flailed, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.
With a single, crushing application of pressure on his neck, I could end this human’s life as easily as one extinguishes a candle.
Our kind has always been viewed with fear and loathing by humans. This one, no doubt, sees me as nothing more than a monster.
“Last words before your demise, hm?” I growled, hoisting his form aloft. He craned his neck, his eyes widening in terror as he glimpsed the dizzying height. My castle dwarfed even the tallest of Chimera’s steel and glass monstrosities. It was enough to make a lesser man flinch.
Daniel’s body convulsed.
I could practically hear the pathetic plea for mercy forming on his lips. A plummet from this height wouldn’t leave much of him but a red smear for the crows and pigeons to squabble over.
“If... if I die,” he choked out, “let Morwenna go. Free her. Stop holding her like some damn... servant.” A flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes.
So, this was his final act of rebellion – a last-ditch attempt to secure Morwenna’s freedom, even in the face of his own demise. It surprised me. I’d expected craven pleas for his own life, not selflessness for another. Humans. Capable of such unexpected depths.
The urge to send him plummeting warred with a strange hesitation.
But then, a searing pain erupted in my chest.
A blade, cold and cruel as forgotten silver, had pierced through my flesh.
My grip on Daniel faltered, flinging him with a startled cry across the balcony.
I would have finished him then, but this unexpected attack stayed my hand.
Spinning around, I clutched the wound, my eyes locking with a figure bathed in moonlight.
Purple eyes. Short, coppery-white hair, a stark contrast to the cascading brown I remembered.
Fear, hurt, and a flicker of something akin to rage simmered in those violet depths.
“Victoria?” The name escaped my lips, a desperate plea.
No. No, it couldn’t be. “Morwenna?” The question hung heavy in the air. Had she dyed her hair, shorn those brown tresses to taunt me with a phantom resemblance? The audacity was almost admirable.
I lurched forward, but Morwenna recoiled.
My knees buckled, and I slumped to the ground, a guttural groan escaping my lips as I focused on healing the wound.
Memories, sharp and intrusive, flooded back: the metallic tang of blood, my hands slick with crimson, severed heads strewn across the cobblestones, the chilling taste of bloody tears on my cheeks, Victoria cradled in my arms, life slowly ebbing from her pale form. Blood. More blood. Then the searing pain of a blade piercing my… chest.
Morwenna. It was her. All along.
The silver blade in my shoulder, it was a constant reminder of the past. A past that refused to relinquish its grip.