Chapter 3

Olivia’s POV

I couldn’t allow them to be suspicious of me.

“I’ve always wanted to more directly serve the vampires,” I said, lying through my teeth. “My desires have nothing to do with my sister. I just want to be with the vampires… in the hopes of one day becoming one…”

That seemed to satisfy the vampire guard. Vampires, I knew, had a tremendous amount of pride. They all thought that everyone was jealous of them, and that all would want to be among their number.

As the King’s Voice approached, the guard told him, “This one volunteered. She wants to be a vampire.”

The King’s Voice waved his hand, utterly indifferent. “Apply the collar, now.”

A second guard moved from behind the King’s Voice. This one held a leather collar in his hands. It looked like something an owner would give to his dog, complete with a buckle and even a dangling tag.

As the collar was affixed around my neck, I looked down to read the tag.

My new identity, it seemed, was now the number 12.

Not knowing how long I would have to say goodbye, I turned and helped Keri up to her feet. Her large doe eyes were filled with tears, but I didn’t think it was just her pain that had put them there. “There’s no need for you to feel guilty,” I told her. “This is my choice, and it’s one I would make again and again.” “Please take care of mother.”

She blinked and her tears fell down her cheeks in fat globs. At once, she surged toward me and hugged me. I held her gently in return, careful of the open wound sliced across her back.

When Keri and I separated, Jacob was immediately there, frowning at me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “Please look out for my family.” Even if he was furious at me for my decision, I hoped he would be understanding enough to continue to protect my mom and sister.

In a flash, Jacob rushed forward and pulled me into a tight hug. It wasn’t typical for us to show affection like this, and I had a jolt of fear that the vampires might see this as an overstep. I belonged to them now, after all.

But the vampires didn’t interfere.

In my ear, his voice as light as the air, Jacob whispered, “I will save you.”

“That’s enough,” the King’s Voice said.

At once, a vampire guard grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me to the other three girls.

Each of us, I noticed, wore a collar, though the other girls had different numbers than me, though none of us were in sequence.

The other girls had their bags, but I had nothing. Though that made my trip up the long winding road back to the vampire castle easier, I wished I had that weight to carry. With no clothes and no keepsakes to remind me of my family, I truly had no anchor to my past but my memories.

I hoped that would be enough.

As we neared the large black gate at the front of the castle, we were ushered into a group of other collared girls. These must have been the tributes from other towns.

The massive gates creaked open and we were led forward in a single line. It seemed as if we were being processed, with a vampire checking our numbers off a clipboard as we were led forward.

The next vampire held a knife. As each werewolf continue forward, a line was slashed across their arm. Some blood was drained down into a small bottle, then those bottles were labeled with the number corresponding to the werewolf cut.

My nerves prickled as I reached that part of the line. Unlike other werewolves whose wolves were present and could easily heal such a wound, I was considered wolfless. My wolf had not manifested, and possibly never would. As such, I healed much slower than the others of my kind.

A cut like this would drain me more than the rest, and would heal slower, eventually closing with a scar.

Knowing any word of worry that I voiced would only end potential punishment, I kept my mouth shut as I was pushed through the line. I winced as my arm was sliced, but tried to bite my tongue through the pain.

After, I was led to the others where we waited in a large room, just inside the castle. We hadn’t been led through the main entrance this time, but instead through a side passage.

There, I noticed some of the other tributes noticing my still-bleeding arm.

“Don’t tell me they brought in a wolfless,” sneered one of the other tributes. She was a woman with sharp features, the number 4 hanging around her neck. At her words, some of the others looked at me and smirked.

“A defective product like you will become nothing but a ration for low-level vampires in the blood feast tonight. I’m sure someone like you won’t survive.”

Damien’s POV

For the blood feast, all the local vampires were seated in the great hall of the vampire castle. The lesser vampires were down in the pit while the higher class vampires were at the back of the hall, sitting around Vampire King Henry on his throne.

I was off to the side a ways, still in a place of authority, but not at the same table as the King or the rest. I had my own place in the corner.

I preferred the anonymity of my place here. Many of the new vampires didn’t know who I was, but knew to be afraid of me – particularly because I was the first to taste from the tribute blood samples.

Sophia, the head vampire housekeeper, brought forward the blood samples on a tray.

This was a sign of respect to me, but otherwise pointless. Long ago I had stopped needing blood to survive. I was so very old, the oldest living vampire, and had evolved past the more primal needs of my juniors in the room.

Normally, I would wave the platter away and it would be delivered to Henry next.

This year however, after inhaling slightly, I froze before lifting my hand.

There was something about the blood in one of the cups that drew me in. I could not explain why, but I felt deep down into my core that I needed to taste it.

As old as I was, I had totally given up on finding my chosen blood. Yet, there was something irresistible about the aroma of this particular blood.

A vampire finding their chosen blood was a rare thing indeed, though every vampire longed to find theirs.

For a vampire, their chosen blood was the most delicious. Nothing else in the world could compare.

Though I suspected that this blood, as all the rest before it, would not be my chosen blood, I still needed to taste it, to know for sure, to accept the consistent disappointment and move on with my unending life.

I motioned for Sophia to come closer. She seemed surprised but complied at once.

Right away, I reached for the specific glass that was calling to me.

Lifting the glass to my lips, I swallowed down the blood.

Immediately I was filled with a sense of… nostalgia.

How could that be?

But more, as I drank from the glass, downing it entirely, I started to feel my long-dormant thirst return to me.

After drinking, I held the glass curiously in my hand, looking down at the few precious drops that remained inside.

This had to be it… my chosen blood…

I’d never tasted anything so appetizing in my life.

To Sophia, I asked, “Whose blood is this?”