روايات وقصص ضمن My Father Sold Me To A Vampire Book

My father was planning to sell me off to some rich old man who already had more wives than he could count. I on the other hand wasn't just going to let it happen, I had plans of my own. I had gathered supplies and was planning to escape when the Vampires attacked our Village in the middle of the night. Lives were lost and chaos ensued. I was unable to escape from the pandemonium and decided to hide. They eventually reached our home and attempted to kill all of us but my father offered me and my two sisters to the Vampires in exchange for his life and the life of my mother.

Something good, something ours. Then the terror came, right on its heels, cold enough to swallow the joy whole. Father. The same word that had just betrayed me. The same word behind every lie, every plan set in motion since before I even knew I had a choice in any of it. My own father had used my blood, my body, my name, as a piece on some board I never agreed to play on. And now I was supposed to become one myself? What if I was no different? What if whatever poison ran through his ambition ran through mine too, buried somewhere I hadn't found yet?

The furniture was shaking and the books on the shelves dropped on the floor one by one. Father dearest was now pissed. With a flash, I was thrown across the room, and pinned against the wall with an invisible energy. Then, my bones started cracking and it was excruciating. His body became blurry and fuzzy, then disappeared then materialized in front of me with a cold look. "Never use that tone on your mother, Derek, if you want to live. Now, be good son and do as you are told." He said with a sneer. My father was a powerful vampire, and he could take me down with no effort.

My father's voice cut through the eerie silence. "Virgin?" he asked. My father nodded. A cold realization gripped my heart—my worst nightmare was unfolding before my eyes. I was being sold. This was common here at crest haven, but who knew it would happen to me? Fear and disbelief mingled as I stood there, frozen in the suffocating reality. The room seemed to spin, and I stumbled on my feet. It was happening too fast, this night felt like the night I had come home to see my mother's bloody head in my father's hand.

With my freed hand, I grabbed the arm of one of the vamps, pumping him full of the electrical current from the tips of my fingers, frying him to the point that he smelt like burnt meat. The other vamp’s eyes widened in surprise at his friend’s new situation. He let go of me as he took a step back as the other vamp fell to the ground between us. I went to raise my hand to zap him to dust but my father beat me to the kill. Blind siding him and taking him down to the ground, doing the same to him as he did to the vamp before. My father’s eyes then moved to mine and I could see the compassion and worry in them for my safety at that moment but I wasn’t going to leave the battlefield like he wante

Three soldiers in crimson strode in — pale-skinned, sharp-featured, every step silent as the grave. Vampires. My breath hitched. That was when I knew. This wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a test. It was real. “Father,” I said, bowing hurriedly until my nails dug into the floorboards. “Can you really bear it? I’ll be killed.” My nose was already touching the floorboards in desperation. I breathed the oil and salt heavily. I kept telling myself this was just another power play. My own father couldn't really be that cruel.

This isn’t about wanting… I needed the truth. “Only one way to know. Tell me the truth.” I say quietly. The wind blows through the trees, as if they are whispering the truth that my father has kept from me. “A long time ago, we encountered a camp of vampires, and as expected, a fight broke out, and we won… We killed the men and took the women as spoils of the win.” My stomach sinks a little, although deep down I had a feeling that it was something along those lines…

"Any man who dares come near you will be digging his own grave." I chuckled, finding a spark of confidence to taunt him further. Placing my hands on my waist, I shook my head rhythmically, as though swaying to music only I could hear. "You know what, Damon? Right before you took me, my father sold me to another Don. So, technically, I’m his, not yours." His reaction was immediate. He rose from his chair, and walked toward me. His cologne was intoxicating and woodsy, wrapping around me like a trap.

Macon says. “This old bastard tells me that he is our father. Is that true?” I ask Macon. Macon takes a deep breath. “Yes, the vampire is our father, but he did not raise me. Our grandfather raised me,” Macon says. “Well, you all left me with a drunk who abused me and starved and eventually sold me to a pack of wolves!” I scream. Macon reaches out for me again. “I said do not touch her!” Erick yells at Macon.

I give him a sheepish smile. There isn't a reply—my father stands before me like a tower, eyes entirely emotionless as he approaches me. Sudden fright gnaws my mind. Something is wrong, and my bare feet begin to backpedal, get away from my father, who is zombie-walking. I lift my chin to read his face, only to scream once his bear paws land on my fragile shoulders. His vampiric claws dig under my dress, drawing blood from my skin as if he were possessed.