Page 92 of Blood Vows
The woman who walked beside him was younger, softer, and there was light in her that seemed to reach even the darknessthat lived in him. The same darkness the demon had warned could only be tamed by true love. I saw him smile at her, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from her face as though she were something sacred.
“You have done what no one else could,” he whispered to her.
“You have quieted the shadows. I feel…whole again… my love.”
The woman’s hand touched his chest, where his curse lay dormant, her voice trembling with adoration.
“Does this mean we can finally be together?” He smiled again, and in that moment, the decision was made.
“Tonight… It ends tonight. I will tell her. This sham of a marriage cannot go on. I will not let her destroy what remains of my soul.”
And from the shadows, Calista listened, her face frozen in a mask that was almost calm. Only her eyes betrayed her, wide and bright and wet with fury. Her nails dug into her palms until the skin broke. She stood there long after they left, long after his words stopped echoing, whispering to herself like a prayer.
“She tamed him,” she said softly.
“She took what was mine… but not for long.”
The memory shifted again, and I saw her move through the house that same night, as silent as a shadow. Every candle was extinguished, every curtain drawn tight. She walked the halls like a ghost, her white gown dragging along the floor, the necklace at her throat pulsing faintly as if feeding on her rage.
When her husband left their chambers, she waited only long enough for him to disappear down the lane before she followed.
The next scene came sharp and fast, the lover’s cottage, warm and golden, laughter still in the air. The woman sat by the fire, unaware that death had already entered the room. Calista stepped from the doorway like a shadow come to life, her expression eerily serene.
“You should not have taken what was mine,”she whispered.
The woman gasped, but it was too late. The blade slid across her throat in a swift, elegant motion, the blood blooming bright and fast against the rug. Calista knelt beside her, eyes wide and unblinking as she dipped her fingers into the crimson pool, tracing a circle in the blood like it was holy water. Then she cut a lock of the woman’s hair and tucked it into her bodice, proof of what she had done.
“Now he will know what it means to lose everything,” she said, and her smile was the shape of ruin.
When she returned home, her husband was waiting. He saw the blood before he saw her eyes. He took a step forward, demanding to know what she had done, his grief already unraveling his restraint. He could scent his Fated love’s blood. He would know it anywhere.
“You drove me to it,” she spat, the madness slipping through her tone.
“You wanted her. You wanted to leave us. I only gave you a reason to stay!” The argument became chaos. He shouted, she laughed. He struck her once, and her head snapped to the side, but her smile only widened.
“You think you can hurt me now? I already bled for you.” She hissed. And with that, she drove the dagger into her own side, just deep enough to draw blood, enough to make it convincing.
Then she screamed.
“Vasileios!” she cried, her voice cutting through the house like a blade.
“He’s killing me!” From the corridor, Vas ran. The magic in the necklace surged, wrapping him in illusion, twisting his sight until the truth vanished. He saw his father standing over her, the dagger slick with her blood, his mother gasping against the wall.
He didn’t see her smirk.
The next moments unfolded like a nightmare. Vas lunged, grief and rage blinding him, his father shouting something he couldn’t hear. The dagger was torn from one hand to another, and then…silence.
Sebastian fell.
And she began to cry. Not from grief, but triumph.
She cradled his face, pressing a kiss to his brow.
“You did the right thing, my son. You saved me.”
Behind her, the necklace pulsed, the light from it dark and alive.
By the time his brothers arrived, the stage was already set. Their father’s body lay still. Their mother, hidden from view, a fake necklace among a pile of ash, a lowery vampire she killed, someone to use in her place. She then watched from the shadows as the harrowing scene played out. Vas was left standing over his father’s body, out of his mind with rage that was being fed from the lies the necklace emitted. One that shimmered faintly, feeding on the ruin it had sown, its glow the color of victory and blood.
