Vampire’s Blood Servant

For ten years, I was Vincent's blood bag and his sharpest blade.

I offered my rare blood to sustain his ancient power.

I offered my loyalty to secure his throne as the Vampire Lord of this territory.

I thought my devotion might earn me the eternal embrace of the turning.

Instead, I received the announcement of his marriage to Lilith.

A princess from a powerful European vampire clan.

He said it was a necessary alliance.

He said my blood was still precious.

But when the hail of sanctified silver bullets shattered the windows,he used my body as a shield, to ensure his bride remained unblemished.

That's when I knew.

I was never his lover.

I was just a consumable resource, a blood bag to be used and discarded.

So, when I was ordered to become his blood servant under the title of his fiancée, I made a call to my father.

“In seven days,” I said, my voice clear and final in the dark, “make the name Elena Rossi disappear from this city. From vampire’s world. Forever.”

In seven days, when Vincent finds his precious living blood bank gone, he realized went insane.

And this decade-long game of predator and prey… will have a new set of rules.

Vincent's fangs retracted from my neck with a cold, slick sensation.

I kept my eyes closed, riding the wave of lightheadedness that followed each feeding.

The blood brand on my collarbone.

It was the magical contract he etched into my skin a decade ago, throbbed with a familiar, possessive heat.

"Your blood tastes slightly off today," his voice, low and satisfied, cut through the dimness of his bedroom.

I opened my eyes. He was dabbing the corner of his mouth with a silk handkerchief.

The smear of crimson against his pale skin looked stark in the candlelight.

His other hand still rested possessively on my bare hip, a lingering touch from the frantic coupling that had preceded the feeding.

For Vincent, appetite was never singular.

The craving for my rare blood and the desire for my warm, willing body were intertwined parts of the same ancient hunger, a ritual of consumption he had perfected over our decade together.

He was the Vampire Lord of this city, centuries old.

I was Elena Rossi, his primary blood attendant. My family's bloodline carried a rare trait that made it uniquely potent and stabilizing for vampires of his age and power.

"Probably lack of sleep," I said, pushing myself up on the massive bed. The sheets slid down, revealing more of the marks he’d left behind..

Vincent was already moving towards his wardrobe, selecting a tailored suit for the evening's event.

"Get dressed, Elena," he said without turning. "The Grand Hall. One hour. Wear the emerald gown. You know how my clan appreciate fine appearances."

"The Grand Hall?"

My heart gave a small, treacherous leap. In ten years, he'd never allowed me at a formal clan gathering.

A wild, forbidden hope ignited in my chest, burning