Two Centuries Wasted on a Lie

One month before my Union Ceremony with my Vampire fiancé, Vincent, he insisted on postponing it to hold a mock wedding with his childhood friend, Camilla.

I disagreed. The vows of a High Coven are unbreakable. Yet he brought it up daily, as if the decision had already been made and he was simply informing me of it.

Then, two weeks before the ceremony, I received an anonymous package.

It was a blood analysis report from an advanced medical facility in the Undercity.

The data was clear: Camilla's weak bloodline was now deeply infused with Vincent's pureblood.

They had formed a Mutual Blood Bond, the kind reserved only for mates.

In that instant, I understood everything. The night he'd stayed out wasn't to quell a werewolf uprising as he'd claimed.

He had already made all his decisions. He just needed me, his official fiancée, to graciously step aside.

I stood before the castle's floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the endless, moonlit night as a chill seeped into my very bones.

The next day, I dismantled the magical wards at the ceremony venue and destroyed the scroll formalizing our families' alliance.

I set everything he had ever given me ablaze, including the Blood Ring that symbolized my status as the Prince's consort.

On the day of the Union Ceremony, I was not at the sacred altar. Instead, I boarded a private flight to Florence, Italy, alone.

I had officially joined Europe's Supreme Institute for Vampiric Research, starting a new life dedicated to the study of vampiric pharmacology.

From that moment on, Vincent and I were finished.

"Elena, I've explained this to you countless times. Camilla's bloodline is degenerating irreversibly. She won't last much longer."

"The elders say she won't survive the winter."

"Her only dying wish is to wear a wedding gown."

"I owe her my life... This isn't just about a life debt; it's an ancient code of honor among our kind that cannot be violated."

Vincent stood before me, his tone still as arrogant and cold as ever, but every word was like a silver dagger, twisting into the softest part of my heart.

Two hundred years ago, on the streets of Chicago, the De Rossi family clashed with a band of southern vampire hunters. He was ambushed, and someone risked everything to drag his gravely wounded body from the burning sun.

He was convinced it was Camilla. From that day on, she became untouchable, a line not even I could cross.

And now, to repay that debt, he was willing to cast my dignity aside completely, and with it, any love that remained between us.

"It's just a formality," he said, his brow furrowing slightly, clearly displeased by my resistance. "I'll stabilize her condition and go through with the ceremony for her. That's all."

His fingers brushed against my cheek. "Elena, you've loved me for two hundred years. You've always been so reasonable. Be sensible this time."

I slapped his hand away and shot to my feet, my voice trembling with hurt. "Vincent, we're supposed to have our Union Ceremony next month! And you went behind my back and formed a life-sharing Mutual Blood Bond with her! Then tell me, what does that make me?"

He fell silent.

He was likely weighing the interests of his clan against my emotions, a cold calculation he made out of habit.

The next moment, he looked up, his expression returning to its usual cold calm. "Elena, it was the only way."

"Without the bond, she wouldn't even have the strength to put on the dress. This is also to finally settle the debt from all those years ago."

"I can't just watch her turn to ash."

I looked at him, suddenly feeling as if I were staring at a stranger, as if the two centuries we had shared were a ridiculous joke.

For two hundred years, I, a high-born vampire, had endured torment in my lab, all to develop a Daylight Serum that would protect him from harm.

I thought my devotion would earn me his equal love.

The truth was, he had simply grown accustomed to my sacrifices, accustomed to me being the 'proper' consort for a prince: sensible, rational, and never one to cause trouble.

There would always be a more important place in his heart, reserved for someone he saw as fragile and truly in need of his protection.

Did he love me? Perhaps a little.

But when his ancient code of honor and Camilla's tears were on the line, I would always be the one cast aside.

He was about to exert his princely authority again when his phone rang.

He answered it quickly, turning to walk out onto the terrace.

As he spoke, his voice instantly dropped to a soft, low murmur.

I couldn't hear what was being said on the other end, but I saw the gentle smile that graced his lips.

It was a smile I hadn't seen him direct at me in two hundred years.