Page 24 of How to Dump a Vampire

Throwing aside silk sheets worth more gold than Thorn’s entire homestead likely costs, I lurch stiffly from the massive bed to dress. No time to bother with the two dozen fancy clasps and buckles of formal court attire. I just yank on a simple tunic, trousers, boots and a thick cloak for the journey ahead.

I’ve just finished tying my bootlaces when the chamber doors burst open and a troop of guards march in, weapons glinting.

“Prince Draven, stand down this instant,” the captain barks out. “Queen’s orders that you remain confined to your quarters.”

Like hell!

They advance with chained silver manacles, prepared to shackle me by force.

I flash extended fangs in warning, crouching defensively. “I’d like to see you try containing me. Stand aside!”

The captain pauses uncertainly.

Just then, a commanding voice rings out behind the guards. “Stand down. Now.”

They instantly part as my mother, Queen Vespera, sweeps imperiously into the chamber, emerald skirts billowing. Her piercing silver gaze sizes up the situation in an instant.

“Leave us,” she commands sharply.

The guards file out without protest.

Her ageless yet careworn face creases in maternal concern. “Draven, what are you doing? You still seem unwell. Where do you think you are going?”

Despite her gentle tone, I force myself to relax my aggressive posture, not wishing to seem deranged. She’s always been able to see right through me, so I opt for honesty.

“Apologies, Mother, but I need to leave now.”

“In such a state?” Her searching eyes bore into mine. “You are clearly… unwell, my son.”

I rake an unsteady hand through disheveled hair. She’s not wrong. From the bloodshot eyes to the inside-out tunic, I likely resemble a rabid animal more than a prince. Hardly reassuring.

Picking my words with care, I explain waking up connected to Thorn’s sorrow and this compulsory, all-consuming need to return to her side. Mother listens silently as I describe the frayed psychic tether causing me such physical and mental torture.

When I finish, she nods slowly, sunlight glinting off her silver circlet. “What you describe aligns closely with effects of the fated mate bond that sometimes manifests between vampires or other magical beings.”

I gape at her words. “You believe Thorn and I could be… fated mates? But how is that possible?”

Mother’s gaze turns thoughtful. “While rare, fate occasionally intercedes to bind two souls. The call between mates becomes impossible to resist.”

I grip my throbbing chest, my own impossible longing echoing her words, yet it seems fantastical that destiny could have matched us so peculiarly.

“However…” Mother taps her chin. “Bonds take time to fully root. Yours seems to have flared unusually swiftly.”

I blink. “What are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps some catalyst accelerated your connection,” she muses. “A ritual… or shared blood.”

My thoughts race, reviewing my time with Thorn. I don’t remember any sort of moment that would have triggered such a thing, but if she was using spells on me… the tea, the bread… Could such exchanges have hastened our bonding, amplifying simple attraction into something more profound?

Seeing the dawning comprehension on my face, Mother nods. “Yes, an intimate joining of blood or magic could certainly ignite a mate bond. But why so rapidly… unless… “ She meets my gaze. “This witch, she is no ordinary woman, is she?”

I stare down at my hands, calloused now from days of honest labor beside Thorn. “She is an enigma,” I admit. “She is gifted in the mystical arts and hides her true self.”

“So fate and magic combined have woven this web between you.” Mother sighs knowingly.

“I still struggle to grasp that destiny could chain me eternally to a near stranger,” I admit.

Mother gives an understanding smile. “Such is the paradox of predestined love, but remember, fate maydraw you together, yet the choice to nurture any bond remains your own.”

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