Page 53 of Blood Vows
“Vas, please…”I whispered, the tremor in my voice enough to break whatever spell had taken hold. He blinked, as if waking from a trance, and the darkness recoiled instantly, snappingback into him like the drag of an unseen tide. The fire dimmed to its normal glow, leaving only the heavy sound of his breathing.
The moment he saw my fear and saw me pressed back against the chair, heart pounding, his expression faltered. The rage drained him as quickly as it had come, replaced by something that looked far too much like regret.
“I apologize…I don’t wish to frighten you,” he said softly, and I exhaled shakily, tension uncoiling from my shoulders.
“Look, I get that there’s bad blood between you, but if this is ever going to work, it’s something we have to talk about.”
“You don’t understand,” he murmured, voice thick with something I couldn’t name.
“Then help me understand,” I urged, pulling the throw tighter around me before getting to my feet and moving toward him. I took it as a good sign when he didn’t back away as I reached up, my fingers brushing his cheek, guiding his face toward the light of the fire. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his jaw tight.
“You’re right, I don’t know what this cost you, and I won’t…not unless you trust me with the truth,”I whispered gently, and his eyes closed for a brief moment as he leaned into my hand.
“Very well,”he said finally, his voice quieter now, resigned.
“But be warned, Nessa, for it is not a happy story.”
“Family tragedy never is,” I murmured, letting my hand fall away.
However, prior to my eyes tracking the movement, he caught it before I could retreat. His fingers wrapped around mine, solid and grounding.
“You’d best sit for this,” he said, his tone more formal now.
I followed his lead, returning to the armchair. I drew the throw tighter around my shoulders as he crossed the room and sat opposite me, the flames casting long shadows that seemed to dance over his haunted face.
“My life wasn’t always like this,” he began at last, voice distant, almost reflective.
“Once, we were what you might have called a happy family, hard as that may seem for vampires.” I caught the flicker of conflicting emotions moving over his face and felt my chest tighten.
“I’ve seen the care and compassion you’re capable of, Vas. No matter how much you try to hide it from me, I know it’s there. So, no, I don’t find that hard to believe.” He bowed his head slightly at that, a quiet acknowledgement, before he released a deep sigh, and his story truly began.
He reclined in his chair, shadows gathering around him like old regrets. His voice, when it broke the silence, was calm but heavy with remembrance, each word shaped by the weight of what he’d lost.
“Before the title, before the curse of immortality, we were nothing. Just another vampire family struggling to survive the ruins of war.” He paused, as if remembering the scent of smoke and blood from centuries ago.
“It was during the Italian Wars, 1494 to 1559. Europe was tearing itself apart. Kingdoms shifting hands, empires devouring one another. The French, the Spanish, the Holy Roman Empire, each side hungry for more. And in the middle of it, men like my father saw opportunity where others saw only chaos, and Vampires only saw blood to feed their hunger.”
I frowned softly, leaning forward.
“The Italian Wars?” I asked and he nodded, his gaze distant, fixed on the fire.
“A series of conflicts fought across Italy. Power, greed, and faith all tangled into one long, bloody struggle. The mortals called it politics. We, those who lived longer and watched it unfold, called it the inevitable.”
“So, your family was caught in the middle of it?” I asked quietly, to which he gave a humorless smile.
“Caught, yes. And starved by it. We were poor then, hidden among mortals, our strength fading because my father refused to feed as often as he should. He claimed restraint, kept us civilized. But it also made us weak. We lived in the shadows of other Houses, too proud to beg, too noble to steal.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes glinting with the painful memories.
“When my mother grew too hungry, it was desperation that changed everything. My father found his solution not in mercy, but in blood. He began trading it. Bottled, refined, and sold to the highest bidder. The war had created an empire of soldiers and kings who wanted the strength of vampires without the curse. He gave it to them…for a price of course.”I swallowed, my stomach twisting before voicing the horror…
“He sold your blood?”
21
WHEN DARKNESS CONSUMES
“He sold your blood?”He gave a slow nod as if my heart wasn’t hammering in my chest at this family bombshell.
“Your blood?” I repeated again. I couldn’t ever imagine a loving parent doing this to a child…even a Vampire one.
