I barely had time to process the voice before a fist slammed into my jaw.
Pain exploded across my face as I crashed back into the sandbags. My vision swam, stars bursting behind my eyes.
"Get up, vile," another voice sneered.
I tried to scramble to my feet, but a boot caught me in the ribs. The impact drove the air from my lungs, and I collapsed onto my side, gasping.
"Thought you could just walk into the ceremony as you belonged here?"
I recognized that voice; it was Marius.
One of the older orphans who had made my life hell for years.
Through blurred vision, I counted them.
Five silhouettes surrounded me in the dim room. Four were about my size. But the fifth stood taller, broader, wearing the silver armor of an executioner.
"Please," I wheezed, trying to push myself up. "I just want a chance…"
Another kick, this time to my stomach. I curled inward, bile rising in my throat.
"A chance?" Marius crouched down, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. His face came into focus—narrow eyes full of disgust, lips twisted in a sneer. "You think the blades would choose something like you?"
"The vampires tainted him," one of the others spat.
"He shouldn't even be alive."
"Should've left you to rot in that den," another added.
The executioner said nothing, just watched with his arms crossed. His face was hidden by shadow, but I could feel his cold gaze as he stared at me.
They dragged me to my feet, only to slam me against the stone wall. My head cracked against the rough surface, and warm blood trickled down the back of my neck.
The beating came in waves.
Fists pounded into my stomach, my chest, and my face.
I tried to fight back, swinging wildly, but there were too many of them.
Every time I landed a hit, two more came back twice as hard.
My lip split.
My nose crunched.
My ribs screamed with each impact.
"Enough." The executioner finally spoke, his voice deep and detached.
The boys stepped back, panting, fists bloody. I slumped against the wall, barely conscious, tasting my own blood as it filled my mouth.
The executioner moved closer, his armored boots echoing on the stone floor.
He reached for his belt and pulled out a dagger.
"This is mercy," he said flatly.
Before I could react, he drove the blade into my side.
The pain was hot, searing through every nerve. I gasped, my hands instinctively grabbing at the weapon, but he had already pulled it free.
Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky, soaking through my tunic.
"Take him to the ravine," the executioner ordered.
"Make sure no one sees."
My legs gave out. The world tilted as rough hands grabbed me, dragging me across the floor. I tried to speak, to scream, but only a weak groan escaped my lips.
They hauled me through a back passage, away from the castle.
The sounds of the crowd faded into the distance, replaced by the crunch of gravel and the labored breathing of the boys carrying me.
Then we stopped.
I barely registered the edge of the ravine before they threw me over.
I plummeted, tumbling through the air, branches and rocks tearing at my body as I crashed down the steep slope.
My vision went black for a moment, then it came back in flashes.
I hit the bottom hard.
For a long moment, I just lay there, staring up at the narrow strip of sky above. My breathing was shallow, ragged.
Blood pooled beneath me, seeping into the earth.
This is it, I thought distantly. This is how I die.
The pain was fading now, replaced by a cold numbness that spread through my limbs.
My vision darkened at the edges.
I'm sorry, Knight Cedric. I couldn't make you proud.
My eyes drifted shut.
I don't know how long I was unconscious.
But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't staring at the sky.
I was staring at a woman.
She stood over me, silhouetted against the fading light.
For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating because no woman like her existed in reality.
She wore a black dress that clung to every curve of her body as if it had been painted on.
The fabric hugged her waist, flared at her hips, and plunged at the neckline, revealing a generous swell of cleavage that threatened to spill free with every breath.
Her lips were full and sensual, painted a deep crimson that matched the blood staining my clothes.
Black hair cascaded down her shoulders in thick waves, framing a face that could only be described as perfect—sharp cheekbones, flawless skin, and eyes that…
Her eyes.
They glowed red.
Like burning embers in the dark.
My breath hitched.
Vampire.
She tilted her head, studying me with an expression I couldn't read. Amusement? Curiosity? Pity?
"You're still alive," she said. Her voice was smooth and rich. "Barely."
I tried to speak, but only a wet cough came out, blood splattering my lips.
She crouched down beside me gracefully. Up close, I could see every detail—the way her dress strained against her bust, the smooth column of her throat, the faint smile playing at her lips.
"Pathetic," she murmured, though there was no malice in her tone. "They really did a number on you."
She reached out, her fingers—cold as ice—brushing against my cheek. I flinched, but I was too weak to pull away.
"Relax," she whispered. "I'm not here to kill you, Vlad."
My heart stuttered. She knew my name.
"W-who…" I rasped.
"Questions later." She slid her arms beneath me, lifting me effortlessly despite my dead weight. "You're going to bleed out if I don't move you now."
The world spun as she carried me, cradling me against her chest. I could feel the softness of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing.
Her scent washed over me—it was so sweet it was intoxicating like roses and something richer.
I should have been terrified. I should have fought back.
But I was too weak. Too tired.
And honestly? If I were going to die, this wasn't the worst way to go.
Who wouldn't want a busty, beautiful woman to dote on them and have their head nuzzled in her bosom?
----
When I woke again, I was somewhere else entirely.
The air was cool and damp, and the faint smell of earth surrounded me. I blinked slowly, my vision clearing.
I was lying on a stone slab in what looked like a basement.
The walls were rough-hewn rock, lit by flickering candles placed in iron sconces.
Strange symbols were carved into the floor around me, glowing faintly with a pale blue light.
My shirt was gone. Bandages wrapped around my torso, covering the stab wound. The pain was still there, but it had become duller now.
"You're awake."
I turned my head.
The woman stood at the edge of the circle of symbols, her arms crossed beneath her bust, which only served to push it up further.
She looked even more stunning in the candlelight, her red eyes practically glowing.
"Where…" My voice was hoarse.
"My home," she said. "Well, technically, a safe house. But close enough."
"Why?" I managed. "Why save me?"
She smiled, slow and knowing. "Because you're important, Vlad. More important than you realize."
She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the stone. "Tell me, have you ever wondered why you have those dreams?"
My blood ran cold. "How do you know about—"
"I know a lot of things." She knelt beside the slab, her face inches from mine. "I was sent here by the former king to watch over you. To make sure you survive long enough to awaken."
"Awaken?" I echoed.
"You've been cursed, Vlad. Since the day you were born." Her fingers traced the edge of the bandages, sending shivers down my spine. "A powerful curse, designed to suppress what you truly are."
"I don't understand."
"You will." She stood, moving to a table covered in strange tools—chalices, herbs, candles, vials of dark liquid. "Tonight, I'm going to break that curse. And when I do, everything you thought you knew about yourself will change."
She picked up a chalice filled with a thick, red liquid.
It was blood.
"This is going to hurt," she said, her smile widening.
"But trust me, darling. You'll thank me later."
She raised the chalice to her lips, drank deeply, then leaned over me.
Her lips pressed against mine as the liquid entered my mouth.