The Vampire’s Bride (Of Fate and Night #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

VALARIC

A sharp crack of thunder booms overhead as lightning forks across the dark sky, seeming to echo my mood. Tonight, my curse will force me to take a new bride. To make a bargain with a desperate mortal, chaining her fate to mine.

Heavy rain beats down relentlessly upon me, but it cannot cleanse my soul of the sins that I bear. Dread settles in my chest as I walk toward the manor to claim my mate. If I cannot break the dark spell that controls me, my new wife will meet the same terrible fate as the others.

The manor looms up ahead, an elegant and ancient structure, with a set of grand and intricately carved double doors at the entrance, suggesting this family is one of great wealth.

As I stand before the entrance, I glance down once more at myself. My black boots are covered in mud from the few steps from my carriage. My heavy, red cloak is completely soaked through. Even my dark tunic and pants beneath it are damp and clinging to my form.

I knock on the door and then smooth a hand through my hair, wringing moisture from the short, silken black strands that fade into silvery-white ends. Drawing in a deep breath, I stand tall and lift my chin, my face set in an impassive mask as I wait patiently for someone to answer.

If my hair does not already give away what manner of creature I am, my red eyes, pointed ears, pale skin, wings, and sharp, black claws surely will.

Hopefully, whoever opens the door will have been told to expect a Vampire.

A sudden ringing in my ears is the only warning I receive before the world freezes around me. Droplets of rain are suspended mid-air as suffocating silence fills the space. Dread slithers down my spine as I realize I’m caught in an enchantment—a time dislocation spell, where the world beyond this bubble moves at a snail’s pace. Minutes in here are mere seconds outside.

Unease moves through me and my shoulders tense. The goblin blood witch must be nearby.

“I see you received my summons,” her dark voice sounds behind me.

A deep growl builds in my chest as I turn to face her.

Reptilian amber eyes fix upon mine, a wicked gleam in their depths. Her long, violet hair is coiled in a bun atop her head, and an evil grin spreads across her face, her white fangs a stark contrast to her pale lavender skin.

“Wait until you see the woman I’ve found for you.” Talindra gestures to the door. “I think you’ll be very pleased with this one.”

I clench my jaw as a maelstrom of emotions swirls within. I refuse to allow her the satisfaction of knowing just how much her curse affects me.

“You can pretend not to care, but I can already see the haunted look on your face, Vampyr,” she says, using the name of my people in the ancient tongue. “I expect this one will be particularly difficult for you.”

I narrow my eyes. I want to ask why, but I know better than to play this game. Any questions I ask will only be met with more infuriating threats and riddles. But there is one thing I am desperate to know. “How long do I have this time?”

With a wave of her hand, she conjures an image of a rosebush. Dozens of buds are scattered among the thorned branches, a hint of red barely visible amidst the dark green leaves. “As with the others, you have until the last petal falls to break your curse.”

I don’t need to ask what happens if I do not succeed, for I have already failed four times before. But I do wonder something else. Something I’ve never questioned before but will now. “Why roses to measure the time?”

Talindra gives a casual shrug. “An hourglass would probably have been easier—more precise. But it makes things more interesting, not knowing when the end will come. Do you not agree?”

Murderous rage churns in my gut. Someday, I will end this creature. She will pay for all the pain and suffering she has inflicted upon others, and for daring to ensnare a Vampire in the dark magic of her curse.

She reaches out, and it takes every bit of my composure to remain still as she traces the tip of her claw across my cheek. “Perhaps this girl will be the one to break you. The one that will make you understand my pain.”

Talindra speaks of her deceased lover. The one she begged me to turn, hoping it would save his life.

“I warned you,” I remind her, trying but failing to mask my frustration. “Only one in three survive the transformation.”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “Someday you will love, Vampyr. And when you do, I will be the one that takes your beloved from you, just as you took mine.” A sinister smile spreads across her face. “I look forward to that day.”

With a snap of her fingers, she disappears, leaving me standing alone as the rain starts falling again.

The door creaks open, revealing a woman with blonde hair threaded through with silver. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face pale and drawn with sorrow. In those eyes, I see the reflection of my own torment and burden. I hate this facet of my existence, this part of the curse that binds me to this never-ending cycle of despair.

“Good evening, madam.” I bow. “I am Lord Valaric of Greyvale, and if you invite me in, I believe I may be of assistance to you and your family.”

She stares up at me with wide eyes full of hope and yet tempered by fear as she considers her answer.

She is wise to be cautious. Only a fool would readily invite a Vampire into their home.

It is a myth that my kind need an invitation, but I wait all the same. I could enter anytime I want, but the humans do not know this. It is a closely guarded secret among my people. We encourage the lie to give the mortals the illusion of control and safety. It is essential in keeping the peace between us, discouraging the masses from hunting us down while we sleep during the day.

She clutches the silver cross that hangs from the delicate chain around her neck, and then steps aside as fragile hope overrides her fear.

“I invite you in, Lord Greyvale.” Her voice trembles. “I am Lady Anne Casterly. Thank you for coming on such short notice. The blood witch promised you would come, but I dared not hope. If you will follow me, I will take you to my daughter, Juliet. We must hurry. The healer says she does not have long.”

Although we’ve only just met, I already pity this woman. I wonder what she promised the witch in return for my services. Talindra never makes a bargain that is not heavily weighted in her favor.

She leads me down a narrow hallway, lined with portraits of her family. One in particular draws my attention. It is of Lady Anne and a young woman that must be her daughter.

She has long, blonde hair, rosy cheeks, full-pink lips, and green eyes like her mother. Her smile is as warm as the sun that I have missed for over fifty years.

Lady Anne stops in front of a door and quickly pushes it open. Three men and the healer turn to me with anxious looks.

Two, I recognize from the portraits as Lady Anne’s husband and her son. The other is young, probably no more than twenty-five, with short, messy light-brown locks and bloodshot, pale blue eyes.

“Why is he here?” The young man jumps up from his seat. I’m surprised by his bravery as he stalks toward me. It is rare for mortals to approach one of my kind so aggressively. “You shouldn’t be here,” he grinds out. “We don’t need you.”

“Easy, lad.” The healer puts a hand on his chest, holding him back. “I know you mean well, but Juliet is dying. Your betrothed is beyond the help of any medicine a healer can provide.”

Betrothed? My eyes snap to the younger man again. No wonder he is so upset. If her family accepts my bargain, I will take her from him this night.

“Can you save her?” The healer’s voice draws my attention back to him.

He gestures to the bed, and I step closer. My lips part unconsciously, but I quickly snap them shut. I have seen many terrible things in my time, but this I was not prepared for.

Juliet—the beautiful, smiling woman from the portrait in the hallway—is almost unrecognizable, lying unconscious in her bed. She has been beaten. Badly. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest tells me that she still lives. Although I suspect for not much longer—unless I give her the dark gift of my blood.

I curl my hands into fists at my sides. “Who did this to her?” If they are not already dead, I will make sure they do not live to see another sunrise.

I dart a glance at Juliet’s betrothed, noting the cuts and bruises on his knuckles.

As if reading my thoughts, the healer steps between us. “We don’t know who did this to the girl,” he answers quickly. “Her fiancé, Jonathan, is a good lad. I’ve known him all his life.” He gestures to the boy’s hands. “He got into a fight with the authorities when they told us they have no suspects or leads. Juliet was found outside Brimley Manor three nights ago, at their daughter Lucy’s wedding reception.”

“Lucy Brimley is her best friend.” Lady Anne sniffles. “She was so happy for her and James. No one remembers seeing her leave the ballroom.” Gently, she takes her daughter’s hand and lifts her gaze to me. “Perhaps, when Juliet is… better, she may be able to tell us who did this.”

“Perhaps,” I offer. “If she remembers anything, I will send word.”

“You’re really going to do this?” Jonathan glares accusingly at Juliet’s family and the healer. “You’re going to give her over to this”—he gestures angrily at me—“this monster!”

“It’s the only way to save her,” the healer snaps. “Can you not see that, lad?”

“You’re not saving her, you’re damning her! She—”

“Enough!” Juliet’s brother bellows. “The healer is right. We’ve tried everything. We have no choice.”

Tears stream down her brother’s face as he looks at me. “Do you swear to be good to her? To treat her well and make her happy?”

“She will live, and she will be well-provided for.” It is the best I can offer him for I am not sure happiness can be found with my curse.

If I cannot convince her to love me before the last petal falls, she will be doomed like the others before her.

“If you hurt her,” Jonathan grits through his teeth. “I’ll—”

“She is to be my wife ,” I state firmly. “I will not harm her.”

“What happens now?” her mother interrupts. “How does this work?”

I glance between her family and the healer. “Wait outside, and we will join you shortly so you may say goodbye.”

Jonathan levels a dark glare at me as he follows Juliet’s family out into the hallway. There is a cunning in his eyes that tells me he has not fully accepted she is no longer his. I suspect he will try to fight me, but in the end, the result will be the same. Once the bargain is made, Juliet will be tied to me, regardless of his wishes.

As soon as they shut the door behind them, I raise my hands, drawing runes in the air, weaving an enchantment to create a magical ward. I will have no one interrupting what I am about to do.

Glowing purple light ripples across the door before disappearing into the wood. Satisfied that the room is secure, I kneel beside the bed and take her hand. “Forgive me for what I must do.”

Extending my fangs, I bite the inside of my wrist. I place it over her mouth, allowing a few drops of blood to pass her lips.

A Vampire’s blood can heal almost any wound, but it comes with a cost. Those who drink of it are then bound to us. Once formed, the bond is nearly impossible to break.

I watch as Juliet’s body begins to heal, her face gradually returning to the same likeness as the one in the portrait, without even a hint of any of her previous injuries still visible.

Her long blonde hair is spread out on the pillow beneath her like a golden halo, and her long lashes frame soft, pink cheeks. Her eyelids flutter open and her luminous green eyes meet mine.

“Ashaya.” The ancient word leaves my mouth as I stare at her, completely transfixed. Like a bolt of lightning straight to my chest, my world shifts in an instant.

She is my fate, the one I have searched for all these years.

Frustration burns in my veins. Why would the gods curse me in this way? To find my fated one now, just so I can lose her.

The blood witch is right. Juliet will be the one to break me. If I cannot convince her to love me entirely—both the man and the monster—she will succumb to this wretched curse, just like the ones before her.

She jerks up to sitting. Her jaw drops as she studies my features, no doubt putting together what I am rather quickly.

“You—” She swallows hard. “You’re—you’re a—”

“Lord Valaric Greyvale.” I take her hand gently in mine, kissing the back of her knuckles. “I vow that I am not here to harm you.” My sensitive ears detect the quickening of her heart as the scent of her fear permeates the air. “You were near death. Your family enlisted the aid of a blood witch, who then called upon me to heal you. In exchange for my dark gift, you are now bound to me.”

“As your slave?” She retracts her hand as if burned.

“As my wife.”

All the color drains from her face. No one wants to be bound to a monster. “I—I don’t understand. The last thing I remember I was on my way to Brimley Manor for Lucy’s wedding.” Her small brow furrows deeply. “Did something happen with the carriage? Was I involved in an accident?”

I had hoped she would remember something so her would-be killer could be delivered to justice. But after seeing her terrible state when I arrived, it is no wonder she cannot recall how she sustained such traumatic injuries.

As terrible as it is, I cannot shield her from the truth. I’ve learned over the past several decades that it’s best to get straight to the heart of things instead of dancing around a subject. The sooner my bride accepts what has happened, the sooner we can be on our way back to my castle.

“Someone attacked you and left you for dead three days ago.”

She gasps and puts a trembling hand to her mouth.

My protective instincts surge. I hate how terrified she appears, not only of what happened to her, but also of me. I wish more than anything that I could reassure my mate that I will not harm her.

If she were a Vampire, our fated bond would allow us to communicate directly with each other’s minds—sharing thoughts and emotions. But when I reach out with my thoughts, searching for a mental connection between us, I sense nothing.

Perhaps it is because she is human.

Rather than lament the absence of this part of the fated bond, I resolve to do all that I can to show her through my words and my actions, that she is safe and I will protect her. Always. “You are safe and well now, Juliet. I will allow no one to ever harm you again. My vow.”

“No one but you,” she says, despair and anger reflecting in her green eyes. “Unless the rumors I have heard about Vampires are false, Lord Greyvale.”

The ones before her took far longer to reach this stage of resentment. It seems my ashaya will be different. “What is it you have heard?”

I’d expected tears and denial of her fate, but instead she watches me warily as if weighing her choice of words very carefully before giving them voice. “That Vampires take human women as blood wives to slake their… appetites.” She blanches. “That they eventually either turn them before they age or kill them when they are done. They usually choose a maiden from among the desperate because the human sacrifice must be given willingly, else they would be hunted for stealing someone against their will.”

I can deny nothing for all she has said is true of my kind. “What else have you heard?”

“The women are taken away from their families.” She blinks back tears. “Is it true?”

“Yes.”

I hate the trepidation in her eyes as she studies me. I want to tell her that I am as helpless in this as she is, but I cannot. I dare not tell her of my curse, lest she fear me even more than she already does.

To Juliet, I am the villain who will take her from her family and everything she has ever known. Even if she knew the truth, I do not deserve her sympathy, and thus I will not seek it. I am the fool who bargained with a blood witch and lost.

“Will you turn me? Or will you kill me?” She meets my gaze unflinchingly despite the acrid scent of her fear. “I’d prefer to know your intentions now.”

I want to vow that I will save her. That I will sacrifice myself to make sure that she lives. But I cannot promise this. The curse prevents me from turning her, and her end will be brought about by my curse. “I will do neither. I will keep you until death. Your end will not come by my hand.”

Despair twists deep within as her green eyes search mine. It seems the witch may have her vengeance after all.

“And my family?” she ventures. “Will you take me away from them?”

“It is an unfortunate necessity to remove you from any reminders of your life from before.”

It is yet another stipulation of the dark magic that binds me, but I cannot tell her this.

When she opens her mouth to protest, I quickly add, “I assure you that you will come to understand this later.”

“I am a blood wife,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. Closing her eyes, a single tear rolls down her cheek.

I hate that she believes I’m a monster, like so many of my kind. That she thinks I want her only so I may drink of her blood and have her serve me in my bed. “You are not a blood wife.” Gently, I take her hand in my own. “You will be my true wife , and I will be your husband for as long as you live.”

“But we’ve exchanged no vows,” she points out. “We haven’t been properly married.”

“It matters not. The bargain has already been made. But if you’d prefer an actual ceremony, one can be arranged.”

I’m not sure what compelled me to offer that last part, but it is too late to retract. Hope sparks in her eyes, and I find that I much prefer it over her despair.

“It will have to take place this night and in a temple of the old gods,” I add.

Her expression falls, and I can already guess what she will ask next. I am well aware that most weddings take months to plan, especially among those of the wealthier class. “Why so soon?”

“We must return to my castle before sunrise and the new gods will not accept one such as me in their place of worship.”

“Could my family attend?” she asks a bit hesitantly.

“If you wish.”

“I do.”

“Then it will be done,” I reply, pleased to be able to grant her at least one request. I stand, offering her my arm. “Let us inform your family. I’m sure they are eager to see you.”

“Thank you, Lord Greyvale.”

I dip my chin in a subtle nod. I do not deserve her thanks. The sadness in her gaze is a dagger through my heart, and I pray that my curse will not be her doom.