Vampyre | Book I of Bloodlines | Free on Inkitt & Kindle Unlimited
The Perfect Vampyre Bride

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Darius

Recalling the vision we shared brings me reassurance, knowing that our daughter is already on her way. It guarantees Viola’s survival, making her the sole priority in this tumultuous journey. If Viola is indeed carrying our child, her safety becomes paramount above all else.

As much as I long to be present for Viola and our daughter, ensuring Viola’s survival takes precedence, even if it means sacrificing myself. I nestle into Viola’s hair, relishing her scent that evokes memories of our shared dreams by the seaside.

My fingers trace declarations of love on Viola’s skin as she breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “Darius?”

“Yes, my love,” I respond softly.

“Can you promise me something?”

“Anything within reason.”

Viola pauses, her words hesitant. “If the situation arises where I am unable to act, I want you to use my body to fight.”

I meet her gaze, puzzled but what she asks of me. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not a warrior; I don’t have the capacity for violence. Even now, in my transformed state, I know I’m stronger and faster, but I don’t know if I could ever…rise to the occasion if necessary. You’re a fighter, Darius. You’re trained. You’ve taken lives before… If the need arises, use my body to fight.”

“I could never use you in such a manner. To lose power over one’s bodily autonomy is a trauma you’ve suffered before; there’s no telling what effect controlling you would have later.”

Viola slips her hand onto my face, her thumb lovingly stroking my cheek. “Darius, I trust you implicitly. Whatever happens, you have my consent.”

I exhale slowly, searching her eyes. “Darling, if I were to stain your hands with blood, to utilize you as a weapon when it goes against what you are, it would tarnish your essence. Witches are inherently nurturers and caretakers, not takers of life.”

“But I am more than just a witch. I am also a Dhampir, a lover, and a mother to Elliott and our daughter. How can I protect them if I cannot fight? If something happened to you or Elliott that I could have prevented, how could I possibly live with myself, knowing I was too weak or too scared to act.”

I take Viola’s hand from my cheek, place it over my mouth, and sigh—there’s no talking her out of this.

“Viola, I promise to do everything within my power to safeguard you and our daughter when the time comes,” I say from under her hand.

Viola replaces solace in my assurance and settles herself comfortably with a big smile on her face.

“Our daughter,” she whispers as sleep claims her.

The sense of urgency that drove me just hours ago to flee this house has inexplicably faded, but with so much at stake, I refuse to become complacent.

I get out of bed, swiftly dress, and take a little moment to watch Viola sleep as I button my shirt. Her gorgeous naked body is wrapped in a sheet. She looks so content sprawled out in the middle of the bed—her long, brown hair cascades in gentle waves, reminiscent of the graceful tendrils of an octopus. A sight of pure beauty.

Ibegin preparing for our departure by waking Sophie and having her pack her belongings.

I scour the garage, locate some trunks, and quickly start packing Viola’s and Elliott’s possessions, focusing on the essentials.

As I handle Viola’s clothing, I come across a blue silk dress—a garment that evokes memories of the night William forced her to wear it. Anger surges within me, and before I can stop myself, I tear the dress to shreds. Blue, a color reminiscent of an empty, vapid blue sky or formless fog, feels so unfitting for Viola—she belongs in red.

Utilizing my unnatural speed, I swiftly complete the packing and proceed to the garage. None of William’s vehicles seems particularly practical, but I choose the largest and load the trunks. We can always procure a more suitable mode of transport once we’re on the move.

Despite the allure of modern advancements, nothing compares to the reliability of a horse. They provide warmth, sustain themselves, and, in dire circumstances, can even serve as sustenance. Memories of my first horse flooded my mind. I was a new recruit, and he was a spirited beast. We eventually managed to get along, though I wasn’t able to wear hats since he’d constantly remove them from my head.

With the trunks loaded, I head back to the house to gather Sophie’s belongings. As I approach the house, a mortal shiver runs up my spine. It’s an awful feeling that strikes fear into my core, not a sensation I’m used to. He’s here, Stefan is here, and it appears our time for departure has passed.

I turn to replace my maker, Stefan, observing me from a distance. His beckoning call draws me toward him, a compulsion I cannot resist.

Stefan appears unchanged from the last time I encountered him, though he has allowed his hair to grow considerably long. As a Dutchman, he possesses an alarming height, towering even over William, who is already quite imposing.

Approaching him amidst the trees, I notice his smile, his fangs on display and at the ready—always the proud Vampyre Stefan rarely retracts his.

Yet, as I approach, his smug face lets a hint of confusion cloud his expression as his gaze settles on my chest.

Stefan’s hearing, while formidable, has never matched mine. Despite his age and strength, his senses were never as highly trained as mine. He never had a talent for self-restraint; his nature was always marked by greed and an unrelenting desire for more. It led me to speculate that perhaps he was a farmer or downtrodden worker in his human life before his transformation. There was a perpetual hunger within him, a need to constantly demonstrate his worth, assert his strength, and earn the admiration of others. If he came from a background of scarcity, always yearning for more, it would certainly elucidate his relentless pursuit of perfection in his second life. The transformation into a Vampyre amplifies both a person’s virtues and flaws, revealing the complexity of their character.

“Darius, what is that rhythmic sound emanating from your chest?” he queries as I stand before him, my hands slipping into my pockets. “How is it that your heart beats?”

“What is it you seek, Stefan?” I inquire, cutting straight to the point. “Or should I be calling you Mr. Dixon?”

“Not even a greeting for your maker?” Stefan responds with a shake of his head, feigning disappointment. “I am here for the Spencer girl. It’s been a long search, but I have finally found myself the perfect Vampyre bride.”

“Right,” I mutter.

“I thought Dahlia was the one, but alas, the poor girl, could never compare with a woman who smells of strawberries,” Stefan licks his lip. “I can’t wait to taste her, I’m almost giddy as a schoolboy.”

He’s not giddy at all, I don’t think he’s once been giddy in the years we spent together as mater and progeny.

But, my fears are confirmed—Stefan’s relentless pursuit of the ideal bride spans his entire existence. I refrained from divulging anything about Stefan’s obsession to Viola; the last thing she needs is another man hunting her down and the fear that comes with knowing she is now his sole desire.

While I cannot fault him for desiring Viola—she’s not only a natural beauty, but whatever magic flows within her is intoxicating—now that she has “turned,” she possesses the aura a Vampyre has. Her witch’s blood, in combination with her aura, might be a magnet and attract all sorts of trouble in the future.

“The real question is, what are you doing here? You’ve been silent for years, no word, no correspondence,” Stefan pouts theatrically, pretending offense.

“My apologies, master. I was occupied as a tormented captive,” I respond, buying time to formulate a plan.

With William’s charm rendering my magic useless against him, I must replace a swift and decisive way to neutralize Stefan before he poses a threat to Viola.

“So, you’re the one Lady Spencer saved from her Vampyre hunter husband? Interesting,” Stefan remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity. “How did he even manage to lay a finger on you? You’re the best swordsman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

That’s my ticket to defeating Stefan. I need to get my hands on a sword, and the only blade I recall seeing in this house is in William’s clandestine office. There’s a sword displayed on the wall within a frame. I had considered taking it earlier, but it appeared to be crafted entirely from purified silver—a material I’d rather not handle as it would sap my strength the longer I held it. Then again, I am no longer a Vampyre, and as a Dhampir, my body may react differently. That sword would prove a valuable weapon against Stefan. There was nothing mentioned of silver in the book Sophie found—it might just work.

I instruct William to retrieve the sword from his office and break open the case. Even if Stefan dispatches William the moment he sees him, it’s one less task on my list to undertake.

This ends tonight, one way or another. My Viola will soon be liberated from this wretched place, and we will able to raise our little girl in peace, for if my Viola is indeed a trouble magnet, then she will need me by her side, always.