Page 1 of Claimed By Blood

PROLOGUE

Warning: This prologue contains child murder and child-on-child violence. If such material is triggering for you, it can be skipped without consequence.

SAMUEL — CENTURIES AGO…

The girl standsout among the one hundred or so other children my brothers and I have collected. It isn’t her dark hair or fair complexion; those aren’t uncommon in the mass of shaking, huddled babes below us. It isn’t the piercing, ice shade of her eyes, either. There are at least a dozen with colours more exotic.

No. All of the assembled girls hold the promise of beauty. Most of them have features which—once they’ve sprung into womanhood—might turn into something extraordinary. Being pretty isn’t enough to stand out here.

The few who might seem plain are mostly my choices. I chose girls with brains, or even those who showed a hint of wit.

As usual, my brothers have gone for looks in the hope of impressing our sire. Their sword-measuring contests know no end. It doesn’t matter whether it’s who can conquer the most land or who can bring the shiniest toys to impress Cain’s Court.

Fools. They don’t realise we’ve been asked to bring him our replacements. Possibly even our executioners.

In this room, among these screaming, angry, terrified girls, is the hand that will take our lives.

I’m willing to bet it will beherhand.

She’s barely eight years old, but that doesn’t make her the youngest here—none of the gathered girls can have seen more than ten short years on this earth and a few are barely older than five. That was one of Cain’s requirements. The girls had to be young enough to be… malleable.

Unlike the others, she’s completely still. Watching things unfold as she examines the competition.

She’s too young to wear that silent, observant expression.

Her mother possessed the same habit, and I pray it doesn’t give her away.

Cain bursts through the main doors in a flurry of dark, lush velvet. His flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me. Most who’ve lived half as long as he has have become tired of showmanship.

“Darling girls,” he purrs. “Why are you so upset?”

Every eye turns to him. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice. The human children recognise the danger in their midst and react instinctively, just like prey.

One of them—a young one perhaps only six or seven winters old—wobbles up to him and mumbles, “I want my mama.”

Cain shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Don’t be foolish, child. Your mother is dead. Gaius killed her for me before he brought you here. Can’t have any pesky parents muddling your loyalties, can we?”

The babe stumbles back as if struck, before dissolving into tears.

The vampire lord rolls his eyes. In a blur of motion so fast I barely catch it, the child drops down to the ground.

Dead.

My gut churns, and vomit scalds the back of my throat. By now, I shouldn’t be shocked by how many boundaries my sire is willing to cross. That I still am disgusted after so many centuries in his court… well, perhaps it means there’s some hope left for my soul.

Who am I kidding? My soul is as damned as his.

The other girls, on seeing the young one fall, start backing away. A few of them scream and bolt for the other doors, or even the other vampires. Hoping for escape or someone who will save them from the monster who’s been revealed in their midst.

Only a few stand their ground.

Sheis one of them.

I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Silence.”

Cain says the word quietly, but it travels. In moments, the older girls—the ones who have figured out their only route to safety lies in pleasing this man—shush the younger ones.

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