Page 5 of Born of Blood and Thorns

I trudged through the wet path, my shoes quickly becoming muddier. I dreaded entering the cramped, damp quarters I shared with my father in the shifter village. Our one-room shack was little more than a glorified hovel with a dirt floor and leaking roof. I barged through the door, the walls shaking at the force. It wasn't exactly cozy, but some areas didn't get rain, and a fireplace gave heat—it would do.

I slammed down the book on the empty table, its pages rustling in protest before I sank into the rickety chair that groaned beneath my weight. It was such folly—why had I been so invested in this doomed plan?

Apparently, the chair had it out to get me, too. It leaned precariously to the side, threatening to fall to pieces beneath me. I expected nothing less.

I inspected the book, wiping my hands on my semi dry pants as I dropped the cloak back onto the chair. The blood mainly had only hit the outside portion of the book, its slick leather seemingly waterproof as I could wipe it off with my dark tunic. Then I cringed, realizing I now smelled like blood.

I smelled like dinner.

The floorboards beneath my feet creaked with a sinister groan as if the house had a hidden crypt lurking deep within its foundations. The crypt inhabitant waking, which it did. And he was.

My gaze drifted to the only window in the room, its surface obscured by a splintered crack. Rain pelted against it, creating a raging river of motion.

Squinting into the darkness, I tried to make out the time of day through the gray tones and rushing water. The moon stayed hidden behind thick clouds as the rain calmed enough to be seen. We rarely lit fires, and winter air nipped at my wet skin. I longed for the sun's warmth and feared hunger or cold would kill me. My mind focused on its rays, and I could almost feel their warmth wrap around me. The mind was a powerful thing.

The sun was my comfort; the sun filled me with pleasure I knew I shouldn't have as a half-vampire. As a child, I had loved basking in its warmth, feeling the rays against my skin. That was until jealousy from my uncle's court started making me more cautious. The sun smelled sweet, like candied sugar, and despite not having felt its warmth for many years, it could be smelled on my skin.

Vampires were jealous, vicious creatures. I learned quickly that I needed to avoid it; too much sun meant longer and more painful baths to scrub it off my skin, and orange blossoms became mandatory whenever I ventured out. They loathed the smell of citrus almost as much as they loathed me. Win-win, in my opinion.

"Did you have an eventful day, my dear?" a smooth voice from the shadows said. My heart beat wildly as I turned to face the bitterly cold silver eyes that seemed to call out to me.

I rolled my eyes in exhaustion. "Whenever do I not have an eventful day in this town?" I groaned, resting my elbows on the table and dropping my head into my hands.

The air shifted as he moved closer than before, taking his usual seat across from me with a stern look on his face—it never changed. He was beautiful yet deadly—my father. Despite knowing deep down how dangerous he was, something about him always drew me in.

This scared the shit out of me.

I held his gaze, not worrying for once that he would enact punishment. I knew he would—it was just a matter of when. He had a stern look on his face. I stared at him for a long moment, noting the same cold detachment that permanently marred his perfect features, the cruel tilt of his lips.

"I can smell it in the air, the scent of fresh shifter blood. What did you do?" He leaned forward, and his silver eyes shifted to storm clouds like mine. They darkened and narrowed until they were almost entirely black. His long nails curved into sharp talons, and his incisors lengthened as he smiled cruelly. "Tell me, Isabella—what mischief have you been up to this time?"

He tried to disguise his words with a sickly sweet tone, but nothing was reassuring about them. I knew that if I told him about Gideon's attack on me, he'd fly into an uncontrollable rage. The undead are especially prone to uncontrolled outbursts during the hour after rising, and since he was over a thousand years old, his would be far worse than most.

It wouldn't be Gideon he blamed, no. He'd blame me. He always blamed me. I was the reason our kingdom was destroyed, I was the reason we lived in a hovel in a shifter village, and I was the reason we had nothing. I was the reason for all our bad luck and all our heartache. It made me wonder more than once if I was indeed the reason for all the bad that had befallen us. Why hadn’t he just abandon me years ago?

I could only be so lucky.

I took a deep breath and slowed my heart rate, trying to look as calm as possible. "It was nothing," I said carefully, giving my father a hesitant smile. "Gideon just slipped and hit his head—I helped him." I pressed my lips together, biting my bottom lip as I forced my heartbeat slow and steady. I licked my dry lips, trying not to flick my eyes to the book on the table.

He hadn't always been this way.

My father, Prince Roderick Val'Draco, had once been heir to the vampire kingdom. After the sorceress cursed our family and toppled the regime, we were outcasts clinging to delusions of reclaiming our rightful power.

He had once been kind and benevolent, as warmhearted as a vampire could be. His name was praised throughout the kingdom like a prince in its shining glory before the sorceress appeared. The mask he had held vanished, the pretending stopped, and his true nature emerged. There was no one important watching anymore, I supposed.

Not that life at the Vampire Court had been pleasant besides my nanny. I had no one. I was a half-mortal child, never considered a princess, and nothing but vermin to the vampire. Many times, they would find ways to hurt me, kick me, throw me down. A few times, they had got around to biting me. I was barely old enough to walk the first time I had been bit. It had been a nice little snack for them.

They had been warned and reprimanded verbally but never punished for how they’d treated me. I was never allowed to play with other children because I was beneath them. I had lived a lonely existence as a child. Despite this, I had gotten back up each time they had knocked me down.

It was one of the many reasons I refused to turn. I didn't want to become cruel. I didn't want to be a vampire, clinging to my immortality. My human side was everything to me. My nan had been mortal and human, and she had been kind.

The love he held for me, the love he pretended to have, was fake and only upon his convenience, now it no longer existed. As all he had for me was contempt and blame. I was the reason for all his problems. No longer the cute, half-breed daughter he could occasionally pretend to love. Just a burden he couldn't get rid of.

I remembered the sorceress vividly; her icy white hair flowed like a river around her naked form as she had strolled carelessly through the palace gates. Her eyes were like sapphires frozen in time, radiating with a chill of terror that shivered up my spine as she’d approached.

Some said she was a goddess if the rumors were true, for it only took one angry glance from those sapphire eyes for an entire kingdom to crumble at her feet. I'd never forget the moment she turned her gaze on me; instead of hatred or cruelty, as I had found in so many other immortal beings before her, I had felt a strange connection that seemed to flow between us.

I’d reached out for her, my heart heavy with the hope that maybe this being would be different. Yet she’d shook her head, denying me once again. With an earth-shattering roar, our kingdom had toppled beneath her divine wrath.

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