Vampire Feel-Good Story-Kurzgeschichten & -Kurzromane

The Moon Goddess offered me her protection. If I died, I'd get one chance to be reborn through the werewolf trials. I was born with "sensory impairment." I wasn't an Omega, but I couldn't shift into a wolf. I couldn't see or sense wolves in their lupine forms or their power. When I appeared alongside ninety-nine other trial candidates in an ancient rainforest shrouded in thick fog and darkness, everyone assumed I wouldn't make it past the first day. But here I was, in the terrifying rainforest nests, treating a ghostly wolf pup, drowned for its unusual coat color, as my own little cub. And, I flirted with a bloodthirsty vampire spirit who took pleasure in killing, treating him like a lover. I even befriended the evil twin Hexenbiest, treating them like sisters. The first time we met, I reached out and ran my hand over the vampire's abs. "Nice body," I commented, "just a bit on the short side." He let out a humorless laugh, reattached the head he'd been holding to his neck, and gripped my chin. "I'm six-foot-five," he said. "Want to take another look?"

After chasing my crush, Edward Lightwood, for ten years, he finally accepted me as his blood bound. But, the day we were taking our eternal vow, his first love, Beth, from the allied clan was murdered by a gang of vampire hunters. He blamed me for her loss and tormented me every day. Exposed me to the eternal sun, pierced me with wooden stakes just not enough to kill me and then locked me up in his basement. Exhausted and heartbroken, I grabbed the oak stake and stabbed my chest in front of him. I killed myself. But, I did not die. I was reborn to the day I had confessed my feelings to Edward. But, this time, I'll not repeat my mistake. I'll stay far away from him.

Before the wedding began, Rosien Valmont, the vampire prince, chained me to the blood altar. A dagger carved with a blood curse was pressed against my heart. "Give Bertha your blood one more time and I'll honor the blood pact. Otherwise the wedding is off." Rosien and I had loved each other for 200 years. He swore in front of the whole clan that he would make me his princess. Then, three years ago, everything changed when he brought Bertha Bell, a dying human, home. Whenever her illness flared, Rosien cut open my chest to draw my blood. On every full moon, pain ripped through my body as though my flesh were being torn apart. Bertha Bell lay pale in his arms. "Rosien, let it go! Katherine has waited a long time for this wedding. If she doesn't want to, I don't mind dying." When he looked at me again, there was nothing in his eyes but impatience. "Bertha saved my life. You're only giving up a few drops of blood." He pushed the dagger in another inch. "You begged for this wedding in the first place. I can call it off whenever I want. But if you're willing to give Bertha your blood, I'll still make you my princess." I looked down at the ring on my finger and laughed softly. "One last time." Rosien had no idea that this was the 99th time he had taken my blood. In three days, when the blood moon rose, the Founder bloodline sealed within me would fully awaken. I would take control of the clan.

My sister and I slept for a thousand years. Tonight, we would Awaken. We would become true High-Bloods. Our Sire, Countess Lylandra, brought us two men. We had to choose a Blood Thrall. A cold, celibate priest. A young, harmless noble prince. In my past life, Lilith grabbed the prince by the neck and vanished into the shadows. She left me with the cold-hearted priest. The prince's blood was sweet, his soul pure. He was supposed to be the perfect sacrifice for the Awakening ritual. Lilith should have become a High-Blood without any trouble. But she fell for the prince's sweet words and gentle lies. She poured her ancient power into him. She forged a false blood bond to help him seize the throne. On his coronation day, he plunged a dagger dipped in blessed silver into her heart. With his own hands, he carved out her new Blood Core. He offered it to his werewolf allies. Lilith nearly turned to dust. And me? The priest helped me purify my blood. I broke the vampire curse. I no longer feared the sun or blessed silver. I became the legendary Daywalker Queen. Jealousy drove her mad. She used her last drop of power to unleash a kin-curse. It killed us both. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the night we chose our Blood Thralls. This time, Lilith chose differently. She wrapped herself around the priest, a vision of seduction. Her blood-red wings spread, ready to carry him away. My fangs slid from my gums. A choice? Why should I have to choose? The priest and the prince... Both are mine for the taking.

My sister and I were chosen by the Blood Ledger on the same night. In our first life, Lydia chose beauty. I chose genius. She became the most desired girl in the vampire courts, but the Glamour Gift came with one condition. She had to win true devotion before the deadline. She failed. Men wanted her face. They wanted her body. They wanted to show her off like a rare jewel. But none of them loved her. When the Blood Ledger took her beauty back, Lydia lost everything. I became the youngest scholar in the Night Academy, solved forbidden blood theories, and caught the eye of Adrian Blackthorne, heir to the oldest vampire house. So Lydia killed me. She trapped me beneath the sunrise and smiled as I burned. When I opened my eyes again, we were sixteen, standing before the Blood Ledger once more. This time, Lydia stole the Scholar Gift before I could speak. “Now I’ll be the genius everyone worships,” she said. “You can have beauty this time.” Poor Lydia. She thought she had stolen my future. What she didn’t understand was that every blessing in this world had already been marked with a price.

We were engaged for three years. Yet Kyros delayed our vow ceremony at Hera's temple thirty-three times. The first time, he went to guide his fragile apprentice, Lyris, on her first mission. I waited alone all night by Hera’s sacred fire. I endured the agony of divine punishment. The contract mark on my ring finger burned my flesh to a crisp. The second time, Lyris whined over the comm-stone that she was scared. Kyros dropped my hand without a second thought. He left me to fight a lesser beast for her. After that, every single time we stood at the altar, Lyris somehow ran into a "deadly crisis." Then came today. "We'll have our ceremony, I promise. But I'm responsible for Lyris. She doesn't feel well, so I have to go." He kissed my ear, tossing me a casual excuse, and walked away. Through the comm-stone, I heard him laughing with his friends. "Who cares if I delay it? She's an orphan. Where is she going to go without me and the guild?" I wiped my tears. I swallowed the soul-shredding agony of Hera's wrath. I was done. He didn't know I wasn't an orphan at all. I was a Goddess from Mount Olympus. My only reason for coming to the mortal world was to spend the rest of my life with him. Now, thirty-three divine punishments later, it was time to let go of this pointless romance. It was time to go home. But when I crossed the Gates of Olympus—a place no mortal could ever reach—he broke. He fell to his knees at the foot of the mountain. He even tried to rip out his own Demon Hunter heart with his bare hands, just begging for one last look from me.