Page 9 of Blood Bond

The vampire in Seth's employ had been thrown off the balcony by Donovan when she’d attempted to shield me, ultimately falling alongside Seth and me.

Now, I recognise the deranged gleam in her eyes, the same madness I had witnessed in the creatures that attacked us.

She's one of them now.

She is a thirsty.

ChapterSix

Nico kneels on the hard floor, his knees aching with pain. It rumbles through him, urging him to stand and stretch to ease the discomfort. But he dares not move. The vampire looming before him is poised to strike, and any wrong move could cost Nico his life—a fact he's acutely aware of.

This vampire, the one who brought him down, radiates an unsettling hunger. His skin is pale, almost porcelain-like, and his eyes are dull, the vibrant red of feeding noticeably absent. The danger of an unfed vampire looms large; they're unpredictable, and even a slight movement could push this one over the edge.

Nico can tell he's being closely observed—the vampire’s finger taps rhythmically to the beat of Nico's pulse. Then, with a flick of his tongue over his lips and a flash of fangs, the vampire looks down at him, triggering Nico's instinct to flee. In these moments, the ranting words of his stepmother Jackie, full of unrelenting hatred for their kind, echo in his mind. He's tempted to agree with her.

Another vampire stands guard by the door. He's pale, too, but unlike the first, he has recently fed, though his lingering hunger is palpable. One word from him, and Nico knows they would tear him apart in a savage frenzy, fighting over flesh and blood. His life could end in less than sixty seconds.

Nico rubs his hand slowly down his thigh, an attempt to alleviate some of the ache. Fear and a flicker of relief battle within him at the sound of heels clicking on the cold, hard floor outside. They're approaching. He inhales deeply, and the vampire emits a low growl.

Stay still. Stay utterly still.

He doesn't lift his gaze as the door opens and the owner of the deep red heels enters. He catches only a glimpse of delicate feet, smooth skin, and perfectly sculpted legs. Moments later, they're joined by larger, black, sleek shoes—those of a man.

The sight tightens Nico's muscles.

Please don’t. Please don't.

Before he can react, he's yanked to his feet by large hands. One hand wraps around his throat, lifting him until only the tips of his toes scrape the ground. Donovan Hayden's face hovers inches from his own. “We’re going to talk, you and I. When I ask you a question, you’re going to answer me. Do you understand?”

Nico's hands claw at his throat, desperately trying to ease Donovan's vice-like grip, but his efforts only seem to make Donovan tighten his hold more. Donovan's thumb digs into the edge of Nico’s jaw so forcefully, he fears it might dislocate.

“Yes,” he croaks.

“Then we should get along just fine.” Effortlessly, Donovan flings Nico into a chair that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He hadn't even noticed them moving it, nor the vampire who now stands behind it. Nico lands hard, his back striking the chair, and hands immediately clamp down on his shoulders, pinning him in place. “Try to move, and we end you.”

But it's the owner of the red shoes who steps forward. Nico has never seen her before, yet he instantly knows her identity: Amelia. Her reputation is infamous.

She is the epitome of beauty, untouchable and ethereal. Her perfection is almost sculptural, as if chiselled by divine hands. Her lips, a vivid red matching her shoes, part to reveal her fangs. But despite her beauty, Nico senses her age, a trait most humans can detect in older vampires.

Johan, his mother’s lap dog and second in command in the Hallows, would often say, “We can detect the death in them. That’s why they must all be killed.”

Nico remembers how Johan and his stepmother, Jackie, mercilessly executed a vampire who was scarcely older than a teenager in her human years, justifying it as a punishment for an imagined debt. That moment was a turning point for Nico, when he began to see that some vampires retained their humanity and wished to cause no harm.

Amelia leans in, the nail of one long finger trailing along Nico's jawline. She observes him closely, her sinister smile hinting at pain and suffering. “He’s so young. A baby,” she purrs, but her tone is devoid of sympathy. “I bet he tastes really good. Sweet.” Her face moves closer to his, her lips nearly touching his skin. Nico fights the urge to swallow, to show any fear, but inside, his pulse races, betraying his terror to Amelia, who laughs in response.

This was definitely Amelia, a name whispered among humans along with three others: Donovan, Marcus, and their King, Seth Hayden—each feared for their own reasons.

“You might find out soon enough.” Donovan pushes the sleeves of his white shirt up, revealing strong, toned arms. His body is a testament to strength and definition, muscles evident even through the fabric of his black trousers. An intricate tattoo adorns one arm, drawing the eye with its detail. “Tell me about Payton Summers.”

Nico's gaze shifts from Amelia to Donovan, even as Amelia trails her hand along Nico’s chest, her murmurs about his soft skin and warm pulse a haunting undercurrent. When she stands With catlike movements, she moves to stand behind him, then slices open his t-shirt with a nail and slips a frigid hand inside the torn fabric.

Nico tries not to react to the chilling touch.

“I don’t know her. I?—”

Donovan raises an eyebrow. “She was with you just a few hours ago.”

“I mean, I don’t know much about her. We just met,” Nico clarifies, struggling to maintain composure under Amelia's unsettling caress. “I know who she is, but that’s all.”

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