Owned by the Vampire Heir

I hid in the dark hallway, clutching the stale piece of bread I’d stolen this morning, while the other kids at the orphanage cheered over their brand-new clothes.

I hadn’t eaten in three days. Mr. Cliff, the orphanage director, had piled endless chores on me and forbade me from touching a single bite until everything was done. He hated my bronze skin and honey-gold eyes, claiming the only value I had was to work myself to the bone for this place.

But I was starving. Literally starving.

My belly released a low growl. My hand instantly splayed across my abdomen to stifle the noise while my free one gripped the piece of bread.

Just as I lifted the buttery goodness to my lips, I only got a taste before the crack of a whip echoed through the air, and the fiery burn followed suit.

I released an agonizing cry, my knees hitting the wooden floorboards with a thwack. The flesh along my back was already torn open and raw from the countless slices this whip had produced before, so the stinging sensation only intensified as the wounds reopened.

“How dare you steal food,” Mr. Cliff sneered. His cold, lifeless voice sent chills skittering down my spine. His pristine dress shoes creaked against the floors until he stood before my trembling body. “Need I remind you that you are the lowest-ranking prospect here, Aria?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” His blood red eyes slid to mine, narrowing with scrutiny.“Look at you. You’re worthless—undesirable even to the lowest of the vampire nobility.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, knowing better than to answer pointless questions.

As a pet, you stay silent unless instructed to speak. To disobey your owner meant immediate execution, and I may have been the lowest-ranking prospect, but I wasn’t stupid. I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut when needed to survive.

After our country was taken over by the vampire race, blood donations and high taxes were required to maintain peace. But if parents donated their children to the orphanage to be raised as future pets, they earned a major tax deduction.

When I was six, my mother was tragically killed by a vampire. Since I never knew who my father was, custody was immediately transferred to my aunt, who despised me almost as much as Mr. Cliff.

Caring for me became too much, so my aunt eventually sent me to live at the orphanage, where Mr. Cliff became my owner and conducted a fruitless attempt to raise me as a pet.

When you became a pet, you were owned by the vampire who selected you. Orphanages were a breeding operation, meant to raise us like cattle until a vampire deemed us worthy enough to become their property.

At twenty years old, I had never been selected by a vampire.

Vampires desired humans with blonde hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin. Because of my appearance, I was the furthest from what vampires admired, and Mr. Cliff never let me forget it.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I cautiously lifted my gaze to his, shrinking into myself as the pure hatred that lingered behind his crimson eyes. It always came as a shock how much strength a man as tall and scrawny as him could possess. He was skin and bones, yet the slices on my back begged to differ.

“Tell me you’re worthless.”

Swallowing thickly, I said, “I’m worthless.”

Mr. Cliff got off on my tears, deriving his pleasure when I’d beg for him to stop. I learned quickly over the years to bury my emotions until I no longer felt them. Until my tears dried up, and surviving was the only option.

Realizing I remained unaffected, Mr. Cliff scoffed before straightening the cuff links on his perfectly tailored suit. “This is precisely why you aren’t coming to the festivities tonight. You’re an abomination amongst society. You’re…” His eyes swept critically over me, his nose quickly wrinkling in disgust. “The prince would be offended to lay eyes on you.”

I nodded and bit my tongue to quell the raging fire within me, refusing to show him the tears that threatened to spill. This was life as a pet: degradation, torment, and misery. I’d grown accustomed to it.

Today was a special day. The vampire royal family was hosting the festivities—a ceremony meant to select their next favored pet. The direct heir of this nation—the exalted Vampire Prince—would attend and choose one pet to claim as his own.

Mr. Cliff kept trying to win the prince’s favor with the pets he presented, but he got rejected every single time. It made him try harder, cleaning and dressing up all the children to ensure they looked their best.

“Clean up this blood,” he said before turning on his heels and leaving.

I shakily rose to my feet once I was certain he was gone, using my destroyed nightgown to gather the droplets of blood that had spattered from the whip’s lashes.

“This is the day we have trained you for,” I heard Mr. Cliff declare to the other children, his tone suddenly shifting into something grand and rehearsed. “It is a privilege for all of you to be presented before the royal family. Most of you should feel honored.”

The children sitting on their cots in the dusty room clung to Mr. Cliff’s every word and false promise of the fabulous life they’d have if they were selected by the prince. The teenagers, especially the girls, had stars in their eyes at the prospect of being selected.

But none of that had anything to do with me. I wasn’t worthy of attending the celebration.

Remaining at the orphanage tonight wasn’t the punishment Mr. Cliff assumed it was. I craved for an opportunity to be alone, to scour the kitchens in the hopes of finding scraps of food left behind.

It gave me a moment to breathe—to allow me a semblance of freedom that I’d only tasted once as a child before my loving and doting mother was brutally taken from me.

When I returned to the room, the girls hushed their whispering before sending curious glances my way. All of them knew about the abuse Mr. Cliff bestowed upon me, but none of them had the power to stop it. I didn’t hold it against them for treating me like an outcast when they’d be reprimanded for trying to include me.

I had just reached beneath my cot for a spare nightgown when Mr. Cliff suddenly stormed back into the room carrying a bundle of fabric. His eyes flashed with ire as he approached me, nearly shoving me to the mattress from the force he used to push the clothing into my arms.

“You’re lucky,” he hissed. “Get dressed. It seems a noble has decided to take a slight interest in your pathetic self after all.”