Chapter 3
Onyx’s POV
Dreya was not what I expected. First, her appearance.
She, like me, had a rare trait to her. Red hair was extremely rare.
My blue eyes came from my grandfather, which, surprisingly, was not passed down to my father.
I didn’t understand the genetics in it, but Grandfather always liked to say, “We are a rare breed, Onyx. We were made special for a reason.”
If that were the case, did that mean Dreya was special for a reason?
The second thing I notice about Dreya? She was energetic, silly, fun, and literally like a breath of fresh air.
But maybe this was just an act. I would find out once we lived together.
She had appeared a little too excited when I suggested she move in.
She was on her phone within seconds calling someone from her household to ask them to begin packing her things.
Her instructions also told them only focus on certain belongings.
My home was not large like an estate. Aristocrats lived in large estates. Low blood borns, the workers, lived in flats or small one to two bedroom homes. When a vampyr couple had a child, they could upgrade to a two-bedroom home. Suits lived in more moderate sized homes, also depending on an heir.
I observed my blood bride while she spoke.
I did not think she would be so eager to leave her home, but maybe that would change when she arrived to mine and saw what she was in for.
She was, after all, an aristocrat. And not only an aristocrat, but a D’Avare.
She probably had all the finer things in life. Things I would not provide for her.
I was raised as a low blood born, meaning I had the basics and I survived with the basics.
Once I began slowly moving my way up to the mid blood born level, I bought things for aesthetics, mainly.
I would occasionally splurge on things, mainly for my mother or grandfather, to show my accomplishments.
Dreya was talking animatedly, her hand moving wildly in the air as she spoke.
Her hair was pinned back at the sides, but fell in reddish brown waves, as she correctly noted, down to just past her shoulders.
I had a wild urge to reach out and grab her by the hair, and lick up her neck.
But I held myself back, and reprimanded myself that she was just a blood match.
Nothing more. She was that scoundrel’s daughter. She was tainted as his heir.
She stood tall and elegant as aristocrats do, with a silky white buttoned-down blouse with black sweeping flair pants.
Her look appeared more casual than most aristocrats, but she could just be dressing down.
She was not seen out in public much, and to be fair, this did not call for a gala-level dresscode.
We talked for about thirty minutes while waiting for the legal paperwork to be delivered. Once signed, we were ready to go.
I escorted Dreya to my car. I did not have a driver, nor had the need for one. I could afford one if I had the need, but I actually enjoyed the independence of driving myself. As a low blood born, when your only options were transits or walking, driving your own car was a statement in itself.
When I held the car passenger door open for Dreya she looked surprised, but pleased.
Once I got into the driver side, she started talking animatedly. “Would I be able to learn to drive? I wasn’t allowed to learn, and had to rely on Bernard, Father’s, I mean, Mr. D’Avare’s, driver.”
I glanced to her at the correction in title, but didn’t ask further about it. “I may not have time to teach you, but Gene, one of the house staff, might be able to help you learn.”
Her smiled dipped at first when I said I wouldn’t be able to help, but then she grew excited when I offered Gene’s assistance.
“Were you able to get a message to your father’s driver so he would not have to wait for you?”
She nodded vigorously. “I messaged him as soon as we left the room after signing the papers. I will call the staff with the address as soon as we arrive home.”
The way she said home tugged something at me that I couldn’t pinpoint. I brushed it off, turning to her, and forcing a smile.
“Ready to go?”
She looked happy, making me question how her father would respond when he found out I was her blood match.
We drove through a few neighborhoods within the mid blood born section of town before we arrived to my house.
It was nothing fancy, but it was comfortable and mine.
I was proud of my progress over the years and felt I had damned well earned my place in the vampyr society.
I did not want to be a part of the high blood borns, their arrogance and entitlement dug at me the wrong way.
As I pulled into the driveway, Dreya leaned in, looking through the windshield to view the house.
She appeared to be in awe, which threw me off. I couldn’t understand her reaction.
I got out and went to her side to open the door for her. She continued to stare at my house as she got out of the car.
“Oh, this looks nice.”
I just nodded and laid my hand softly on her back, making her jolt. Her head whipped to be, shocked, then flustered. “Sorry. I….I...just …..wasn’t expecting….that.” She looked away, embarrassed.
I slowly placed my hand back on her back, waited for her to settle in, then guided her to the front door.
I heard her breath out, “I love it” just as the front door opened to my maid, Miss Sophie.
I had to figure out my blood wife. She was a mystery I hadn’t expected.