Page 6 of Born of Blood and Thorns

I’d huddled beneath a rock that threatened to crush me at any moment, hidden from her view. I had seen her pause and turn her head as if she’d heard or seen me. I’d held my breath, waiting, praying that if she ended me, it would be quick.

She’d walked past me like I was nothing, as if I were buried in the rubble. I didn’t remember how I had been saved and pulled out. Only I knew it wasn't until daylight that I knew the danger had passed.

As if the sorceress had known the moon goddess, Nyx, wouldn't mind if she destroyed one of her kingdoms. As if she had her support. I hated the gods and goddesses; they were so fickle and cruel. I refused to pray to any of them.

I supposed I should have been horrified by the news of my uncle and his closest members from the Vampire Court being dead, but I hadn’t been. After all, they were even crueler to me than anyone else. Walking through that palace had always been a delicate task, as a half-breed, human princess like me had been seen as a tempting snack.

My hand moved instinctively to my neck, where I knew the scar of a rather viscous bite showed. My fingers felt the rough edges of the ruined skin. Having been bitten before I could even walk, I had quickly grown to despise my father's people. The only things I had regretted losing were a warm place to sleep, a constant food supply, and my nanny, who’d happened to be the only person who had ever shown me a hint of love in my short life.

If only the shifters knew we held the same dislike of vampires, maybe they'd hate me less, but I doubted it.

"Clean this up and eat now. Your stomach is giving me a headache." Roderick hissed, his nostrils flaring. His eyes glowed red, a stark contrast to his gaunt, pale face. "You waste enough time at that pitiful excuse for a job. Hurry up and lock down the house so I can leave."

"Of course, Father," I muttered, my stomach growling again.

He closed his eyes tighter as if my extreme hunger annoyed him. I picked up a knife and thought about stabbing him with it. Regrettably, it wouldn't kill him, it would only piss him off. Instead of arguing, I went to the cabinet to peer into it, hoping to find something to cook with the carrots but knowing I would see nothing. A deep ache clutched at the emptiness inside me, almost taking me to my knees.

I gritted my teeth and pushed through it. Wondering, not for the first time, how long it would take a half-vampire to starve to death. A vampire would live shriveled up and in pain for eternity. But a half-vampire, there was no telling. It could be today if I were lucky, or this pain could continue forever if I were unlucky.

I glanced over to where he still sat, looking out the dirty, cracked windowpane as if he were lost in a past that was long since gone. The fallen vampire prince left the kingdom with only his half-breed daughter to suffer through his pitiful fall from grace.

"One day, I will have my revenge and take back what was stolen from me," Roderick muttered as he gazed out the grimy window into the darkness.

I tensed, unease creeping down my spine. I knew all too well the lengths my father would go to regain his lost glory. His pride and cruelty knew no limits.

I shook my head and continued my search, more concerned with survival than his bottomless pit of despair and grandiose ideas of reclaiming the throne that had been lost to him for years.

Finally, I almost cried out when I found a small bag of rice hidden behind some cobwebs and dirt—a feast from what I was used to. I began to wash it and prepare the rice while eating the shriveled carrot as I went. It wasn't even enough to consider a small snack, but it was something, and I was grateful for it, even as my stomach demanded more.

As I worked, my mind drifted to dreams of a better life, far removed from this dreary existence. I imagined myself living in a grand castle, surrounded by lush gardens and adorned with priceless art. I would wear beautiful gowns and dance the night away at elegant balls, my every need attended to by doting servants. Most of all, there would be books—so many books for me to read anytime I wanted.

That was why I'd taken the book Isla and Adrian. It was a fairytale, a woman who found love when she wasn’t looking for it, a woman who persevered and was the heroine with her mate by her side. It was a tale of two vampires different from what she knew of what vampires truly were—emotional. In my experience, they weren't loving, and they weren't the subjects appropriate for an epic love story. It was pure fantasy.

I'd had a life of comfort once upon a time. That past was fraught with threats and violence at every corner. Vampires were not gentle creatures and lacked the maternal—or, in my father's case, paternal—instincts needed to raise a child. The luxury wasn't worth the scars.

In my fantasy, I had it all, including a family who loved me. People who cared if I lived or died and who wanted the best for me. Something I'd never had before. Something, if I was being honest, I yearned for more than anything. It was too bad it was just a fairytale, and fairy tales weren’t real.

"Isabella!" Roderick barked, snapping me back to reality. "Stop daydreaming. I must go."

"Then go," I snapped through gritted teeth.

Fear lanced up me that he would hit me, and I muttered a quick apology. I didn't feel like being beaten again today. I couldn't help but wonder how different my life would be if I hadn't been born just a human. Would I have had the chance to fall in love and be swept off my feet by a man who would love me and treat me with kindness?

"Pathetic," Roderick sneered, taking a sip from a flask filled with blood he'd most likely procured recently. "You're as useless as your mother," Roderick spat. "Unlike me, she was a mere human peasant—I should never have polluted my noble bloodline by lying with her."

"Screw you," I muttered under my breath, earning a glare from Roderick that sent shivers down my spine. It was no small secret that whoever my mother had been, he'd hated her. All I knew of her was that Roderick hated her, and that was all I needed to know, in his opinion.

"Watch your tongue, girl," he warned me, his voice dark and dangerous. "Or I'll rip it out."

"Sorry, Father," I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. Though I really wasn't sorry. I knew better than to push him too far; I bore the scars of his wrath, both physical and emotional.

As I retreated to my corner of the shack, I allowed my mind to wander once more, seeking solace in my dreams. In my fantasies, I was strong and powerful, able to defend myself against any who sought to harm me. I was loved and cherished, free to explore the world and all its wonders without fear or judgment.

I could fly, and nothing held me back. Not hunger or the words spoken from Roderick's cruel lips or the abuse at the hands of many throughout my life. There, I was free.

"We mustn't stay in this town for too long, lest we be forced out." My father peered at me from the chair, worry pressing at the smooth, taut skin around his eyes—worry for himself, not me.

I stared into the dusty corners of the dirty hole-in-the-wall shack we called home and huddled in on myself to fight against the cold that seemed to always find its way in. I found myself thinking, not for the first time, what would happen if the people of this town learned who he was?

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