Page 7 of Blood Bond

Instead, Seth flips open a hidden hatch in the floor, revealing a handle. He tugs it, and a panel rises from the ground. My eyes widen at the sight—a cache of guns. Various shapes and sizes, they're arranged with the precision of art exhibits, waiting for admiration. But these are no mere exhibits; they're lethal, designed for precision killing.

I gasp, watching Seth. He's ready, not just for a battle, but for war, an assault on his fortress. This bunker, this sanctuary, serves more than just for healing and hiding; it's a war room, a command centre, ensuring readiness for battle.

Observing him, I wonder what war he anticipated. Such preparation hints at fear, but Seth radiates only strength and leadership.

Killian stands aside, not aiding Seth, yet I sense his urge to help. It's in his nature, just as it's in Seth's to lead alone.

"Do you need blood?" Naneve asks, rising from the table and joining Killian. They both eye the arsenal with evident hunger, Naneve's perhaps more intense. Were the weapons food, she'd be drooling.

"The effects of Avery's actions are fading," Seth dismisses Naneve’s offer. "Nevertheless, there should be blood stored here if necessary, unless Donovan has destroyed it."

I remain where I am, unsure of my place amid these seasoned warriors and their familiar arsenal. In another life, another version of me, perhaps in a parallel universe, I'd know how to handle these. But for the last ten years, my experience has been limited to useless tools like butter knives, and I’m surprised we were even allowed to use those.

Then Seth, perhaps sensing my unease or simply understanding more than he lets on, grabs a small bag, and tosses it onto the table. He unfolds it, revealing knives with blades that gleam like silver. In the centre lies a belt. He examines it, then looks at me. "It might be a bit loose, but it'll work," he says, passing it to me. The moment our fingers brush, a jolt of awareness runs through me.

The belt, heavy and solid, somehow makes me feel connected to him, to this world.

Hastily, I secure the belt around my waist, pulling the leather strap tight enough to feel its burn against my skin. It hangs low on my slender hips, and I sense a weight of history, a tangible echo of despair from it.

"Choose your weapons." Seth gestures towards the array of knives he has arranged on the table. "You'll need to attach sheaths and hooks to the belt as well."

"You should take three blades," Killian advises. I frown in confusion before he elaborates. "One for each hand and a spare on your back, in case you're disarmed."

My heart pounds, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through me. "Are you expecting a fight as soon as we step outside?"

Seth lifts his eyes to meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I'm captivated. I see not just the vampire king, but something deeper, more ancient and familiar, resonating within him. It's as if he's calling to a part of me I hadn't known existed.

You call to me,he’d said.

Is it the same? Is it what I feel?

Seth's muscles ripple beneath his clothes as he prepares for what lies beyond. He makes me forget my past, my struggles. He inspires a sense of being more than I am, yet he does nothing overt to provoke this feeling within me.

Killian and Naneve arm themselves, while Seth is a weapon in his own right—no mortal could face a vampire and survive, and he is the Vampire King.

It takes Seth thirty minutes or so to get ready. Killian throws a questioning glance Seth’s way when he flexes the fingers of his injured arm, but he doesn't voice the curiosity surely brewing within him.

I stand behind them, feeling like a mere shadow. My hands tremble as I dare to touch the hilt of my blade—it feels alive, almost pulsating in my grip. Despite its weight, it lends me a sense of strength.

"I do not know what we'll find in there," Seth says to Killian. The red in his eyes has infiltrated the whites, a web of intricate veins mirroring every emotion. "But whatever it is, my brother left it as a message."

His gaze meets mine again. In just a look, he conveys so much—understanding, reassurance, strength.

"If anything happens to me, ensure her safety." He’s speaking to Killian, but I have no doubt Seth himself would do everything in his power to protect me. I feel it in my core, as real as my own heartbeat. I shouldn't have the right to that protection, yet when he looks at me, it's as if I am his world.

It knocks me off balance. I don’t know what this is or what has changed.

He approaches the door, embodying his status and identity with self-assurance and pride. He carries himself as if everyone beyond that door is waiting for him, anticipating his arrival.

The door swings open, and we're immediately assaulted by the repugnant odour of death. "Oh, God," I mutter, covering my mouth to suppress the rising gag. The scene is vile, the air heavy with a malevolent presence. The stench—a grotesque blend of rotting flesh, stagnant moisture, and the sickly sweetness of broken dreams—clings to everything.

I take a deep breath, striving for composure. Contrary to my expectations, the place isn't shrouded in darkness but is bathed in harsh white light. The sun streams in unabated, revealing that someone has ripped down the shades meant to protect the vampires.

Seth's nose twitches, his senses keenly absorbing every detail around us.

With trembling legs, I step into the room, squinting through the thick, death-laden air. My heart pounds as I survey the horror enveloping us. The walls and ceiling are splattered with sticky dark red blood, the furniture reduced to unrecognisable heaps of twisted metal and wood.

On the ground, black char marks tell a grim tale—vampires exposed to the sun, now reduced to mere ash and soot.

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