Page 2 of Bloody Valentine

I waited to hear him say it, to utter the words that the bitch never wanted to say. Hearing my father say, ‘I was king,’ was one of the few reasons I’d accepted this fate for my life.

Placing that skeletal mask on my face, I waited.

“Divinus Valentini nostri Dux. Vivat Maddox Valentinus.”

Our…Leader of Valentine’s Divine. Long live Maddox Valentine.

Despite the pain, I raised my head, looking at all the men before me, bowing on the ground at my feet while their cloaks pooled together like a sea of oil. The Elders were the closest to me, the line of their crests adorning their heads as they lowered their bodies to the cavern floor one by one.

I stared at the blood pooled around my feet, feeling like a fucking god. I owned all these men. Yes, they had carved their ancestors’ names into my flesh, but I owned every drop of blood that ran in their veins.

I smiled wide, not even realizing it, until my father lifted his head slightly, refusing to bow as low as the others. I took a step forward, the pain and burning a distant memory with the power coursing through my body from the adrenaline.

Taking my bare, bloodied foot and planting my sole onto his cloaked flesh, I stepped onto my father’s back and pressed down as hard as I could until his legs gave free. Finally, he smashed into the ground as low as the others.

“Ego Maddox Nathanael Valentini Leon Rued filius Valentini, frater Hayes Aston Valentini, magni sancti Valentini proles, omnes vos recipio, fratres mei. deducam te usque ad extremum spiritum meum. Sanguis meus sanguis tuus est.” I spoke with a booming presence, making sure I was loud enough for the entire cavern-like arena to hear my words.

I, Maddox Nathanael Valentine, son of Leon Rued Valentine, brother of Hayes Ashton Valentine, the descendant of the great St. Valentine, accept you all—Brothers mine. I will lead you until my last breath. My blood is your blood.

Chapter one

“Oh, fuck yes, Professor Valentine. I will accept this ‘D’ any day.”

I rolled my eyes at the idiotic pun I had heard over the years of my life as a professor but continued to plow into the bitch in front of me. She was knocking everything off the shelf in front of her. We only had a few more minutes before the classes would switch, and the hallways would be filled with students.

I quickened my pace, reaching my hand over to rub circles on her clit. Her stockings were yanked down, and her red and blackskirt was thrown above her ass. I ripped her panties to the side to make more room for my dick.

She wasn’t tight at all, honestly, it felt like fucking a plastic bag, but I hadn’t had a good orgasm in a few weeks, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. This particular bitch had been frothing over my desk for months.

Her drawings in my class always had a strong likeness to my bright blue eyes and light brown hair. It didn’t take a dumbfuck to make the connection, much less someone of my caliber.

“You like that, Bethany? Of course you do, you fucking slut. Keep panting, just like this. My Little Bitch drooling like a goddamn dog for my cock.”

She whimpered and I realized I must have guessed her name right. My orgasm was rising to the surface as I continued pounding into her. I didn’t give a shit about pulling out because I couldn’t get anyone pregnant.

That was a decision I made for myself a long time ago. I would never feed the disease of my bloodline, never shackle my own child to the life given to those that carried my fucking name.

“Oh, Professor Valentine! Holy fuck, yes. Right there!”

My name on her tongue felt dirty enough to get off, but as I figured, it was empty and meaningless. Besides, I was procrastinating. Fucking a dumb woman in a supply closet wasn’t helping with my true task.

It was nearing Valentine’s Day, and I had to secure my sacrifice for the ritual.

The only problem was…she wasn’t fucking here yet.

I didn’t know how much longer I would be forced to wait. Vivian Valentine was my chosen, and I would have her if it meant going to that piece of shit apartment and dragging her by the hair into the gates of St. Valentine’s myself.

Fourteen virgin women were to be bled dry into the grounds of the university. The very floor I stood on held a dark secret.Beneath our feet were the caverns of the Divine Valentine, where a huge ceramic bowl was waiting to suck up the blood of the chosen sacrifice. Women born of those sacrificed before them were destined to meet the same fate—Death.

My ancestor, St. Valentine, and his thirteen friends sacrificed their wives on February fourteenth all those years ago. Their pact and offering set in motion the future, which now created the wealth and prosperity of the structure they would build over the bones of their partners. Every year since the Bloody Valentine rituals continued.

Children born of those men would kill the women born of their departed wives. They saw this as a true offering of their own blood.

So many of their own children were fated to meet the stone altar year after year.

A magnitude of infidelity and a constant uptick of bastardized babies had created this path. Their only way out was to be hunted down until they were forced to stop running one way or another.

Unfortunately for them, I was that hunter. My hands had ended too many lives, some for the rituals and others in preparation for the required perfection. I gave up on family, kids, all the bullshit dreams that most had.

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