Chapter 2: Her Blood, His Throne

Her blood was still on my tongue when the alarms hit. Not the castle alarms—mine. Three nests were moving fast from the east, west, and south. The scent of Sangria Mortis in the air acted as a siren call to every starving fledgling between here and Boston.

Wren yanked her wrist back, her gray eyes wide with fury rather than fear. "You said ask," she snapped.

"I did ask," I replied, already moving to seal the shutters. "You just didn't hear it". The shutters were iron lined with silver, and the glass was bulletproof and UV-filtered. Though 400 years old, I knew they wouldn't hold if an elder was sent.

"You lied," she said behind me. "You said you were keeping me safe. You just want to get high".

I turned slowly, knowing fast movements make prey run. "You think this is about a high?" I asked, my voice dropping low with hunger and anger. "One drop of your blood restarted my heart, Doctor. Do you know what my kind would do for that?"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "Kill me".

"Yes," I said, crossing the room toward her. "Drain you. Bottle you. Breed you. Your blood is a resurrection, and every king in the old world would raze this continent to own you".

"Then why am I not dead?" she challenged.

I didn't tell her it was because she looked at me like a man instead of a monster. I had rules to keep: —Rule 2: Never let a human learn your name, and a new one I'd just invented,—Rule 4: Never let her learn she owns you.

"Because I'm the only thing standing between you and them," I said instead. "And my protection has a price".

The first impact hit the front gate, making the whole castle shudder. Wren flinched.

"Price," she repeated. "Right. My blood. Your... whatever that was".

"My blood too," I said, catching her hand and pressing my thumb to her pulse. It was too fast, too human. "Yours is killing you. Mine will fix it. Temporarily".

"How temporary?" she asked.

I showed her my teeth. "Depends how often you drink".

A second, louder impact splintered wood in the courtyard. I drew an old steel sword from the wall that sang as it was pulled free. "Rule 1, Dr. Adler".

"You said you rule," she countered.

"I do," I said. "So listen.—Rule 1: You stay behind me. Rule 2: If I tell you to run, you run. Rule 3: If I tell you to drink, you drink".

"Drink what?" she asked.

I looked at her; the dying scent was spiking with her adrenaline. She had days, perhaps only weeks left. "Me," I said.

The library doors bowed inward under a third impact. I stepped in front of her, every instinct I'd buried for 400 years screaming that she was mine.

"Caelan," a voice purred from outside. It was Lysandra, a sire of House Vesper who had been trying to take my throne for 60 years. "We know she's in there. House Vesper wants to negotiate".

"Tell Lysandra," I called back, "that negotiations start with her head on a spike".

The doors exploded inward. Three young, hungry vampires came through with black eyes and hooked claws. They saw Wren and stopped smelling me. "Sangria," the first one hissed.

I moved. My sword took his head before he finished the word. When the second grabbed Wren's arm, I took his hand, then his arm, and finally his head. The third died slower.

Silence followed. Wren was on the floor in shock, her lab coat spattered with black vampire blood. I knelt and wiped ash off her cheek. "Breathe," I told her.

"You—they—" she stammered.

"Rule 3," I said. I bit my own wrist hard until the black blood welled up. "Drink".

She was a doctor; she understood transfusions, but her dying body recognized this was more.

"This will bond us," I explained. "My blood in you means I can find you anywhere. Means your pain is mine. Means if you die, I feel it".

"Why would you do that?" she whispered.

Because the 0.8 seconds her blood gave me was the first time I'd felt alive since 1623. "Because I rule," I said instead. "And I don't lose my things".

She grabbed my wrist and drank. My knees hit the floor. Her blood had restarted my heart; mine broke it. The bonding was agony as our cells forced each other to live and remember.

Outside, Lysandra's voice rose again: "Dravyn! You can't keep her forever!"

I looked at Wren; her pupils were huge, and my blood was on her lips. "Watch me," I said to the door. Then to Wren, softer: "Rule 1, Doctor. You're mine now".

Her pulse was already slower and stronger under my hand.

"Over my dead body," she whispered back.

I smiled for the first time in 400 years. "That's the idea".

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