Chapter 1
Onyx’s POV
High blood borns were allotted more staff due to their ranking and status.
To be fair, high blood borns, also known as aristocrats, lived in large properties and estates.
They needed more staff, realistically. I had two staff: Miss Sophie and Gene.
Both low blood borns. We got along well, though I often wondered how they felt working for someone who had once been only known as a low blood born.
I never asked because that seemed inappropriate and awkward.
The staff at the Facility for the tasting kept looking at me strangely as he brought today’s samples.
He was a mid blood born. The provider had shaggy black hair, a slim build and paler than usual skin.
His physique was actually smaller than mine, which was odd.
Low blood borns usually had the smallest frames compared to both mid and high blood borns.
I looked at him and stared him straight in the eyes until he started to squirm.
Something I learned early on that needed to happen when pushing your way forward.
Display confidence even if in reality you had none.
It was pretty much all a performance. Another thing I learned.
Aristocrats were not better than us, they just appeared to be.
If you had easy and ready access to money and power, of course you would seep confidence.
You did not feel you were lacking. Low blood borns were meant to believe they were lacking.
This was the second week of tasting. What I had not expected was to find my blood match so quickly.
The moment her blood landed on my tongue, I felt an overwhelming feeling of calm.
It took me by surprise enough that without thinking I closed my eyes, and let the feeling settle.
When I opened them, the provider was looking at me in surprise.
I nodded. “This is the one.”
He nodded. “I will go get your blood match’s information.”
I nodded and settled in. I had found her. Who would she be? Someone I’ve met already? Would we get along outside of the taking? We would have to make it work. Loyalty and commitment had been important in my family growing up. I would continue to respect those values.
The provider returned with the a folder, looking confused.
I held my hand out, waiting for the folder, as the provider seemed to hesitate. I was trying to refrain from snatching it out of his hand, when he finally, slowly, handed it to me.
He was acting ridiculous, but when I flipped the folder open roughly, I paused. That name! No! Not that name!
D’Avare. Dreya D’Avare. The worst name among the aristocrats. Not only was my blood match an aristocrat, which was beyond shocking in itself, but it had to be the one aristocrat name I hated above all others.
Henri D’Avare. His name left a sour taste in my mouth.
I kept myself composed. I would have to figure out what to with my blood match after I got her home. For now, I would need her. I would not be able to accept any other blood like hers. And I needed to be functioning at top capacity, especially if I had to deal with that family.
I nodded to the provider and waved him off.
My thoughts immediately went to my grandfather, Pierre Trudeau.
Grandfather had been a grumpy man. He hated the aristocrats with a passion.
Especially Henri D’Avare. According to my grandfather and father, he was the worst of the aristocrats.
He was a greedy entitled man who squeezed as much money out of people as he could while also squeezing all he could out of his workers.
Grandfather had helped save at least five bleeders from succumbing to the street life.
Three of them had worked for an D’Avare company, meaning there would be no going back.
After one day missed, they were unceremoniously “let go.” I knew he had a daughter who was 23 years old, but very little was seen of her, probably a spoiled brat.
I would not cater to any ridiculous behaviors or needs.
She would have to adjust to my lifestyle.
Unless her father wanted to foot the bill, but even that made my insides churn.
I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing from that man. And now I was stuck with his daughter.
I would have to make it work. Somehow.