Bound By Blood - Free To Read

The carriage rattled down the narrow, fog-cloaked road, the creaking of its old wooden wheels echoing in the stillness of the night. Each bump in the path jarred Ella's inside, her fingers gripping the edges of the seat as if holding on for dear life. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional caw of a crow from the dense trees that lined the road. She shivered, pulling her thin cloak tighter around her shoulders, though it did little to keep out the chill that seemed to seep from the very earth beneath her.

A payment for a debt. A commodity, sold by the very people who were supposed to protect her. Her family’s faces, pale and unfeeling, flashed through her mind as they handed her over to the dark-cloaked men. She could still hear her mother’s quiet sobbing in the background, but even that had sounded hollow — empty, like everything else in her life.

She could still hear her father's hollow voice as he told her about the arrangement. His eyes had been distant, his hands trembling. "The clan demanded something we could not refuse, Ella. It's beyond our power."

Ella wanted to scream, to fight back, but what good would it have done? The ruling vampire clan had controlled their duchy for centuries — ruthless, powerful, and eternal. They were untouchable. Her family had chosen survival over her freedom, and now she was on her way to serve the vampires, not only as a maid but also as a blood doll — a source of nourishment to feed their insatiable hunger.

Her breath hitched at the thought. The de Vallière clan had ruled over the duchy for centuries, their influence growing stronger with each passing year. Few spoke openly of them, but everyone knew the stories — whispers of bloodshed, mysterious disappearances and the unnerving sense that they were always watching. She had heard those tales as a child, but never once imagined that she would be forced into their grasp.

The carriage slowed and lurched to a stop, her heart began to pound in her chest. Hands were clammy with sweat, though she rubbed them anxiously against her dress. I have to be strong, she told herself. But what did strength matter in the face of monsters?

She heard the driver’s footsteps, the crunch of his boots on gravel as he walked. A silent and grim figure, opened the door and helped her out.

“We’ve arrived.” His face was obscured by the low brim of his hat, and his voice was gruff as he gestured for her to exit.

Ella’s legs felt weak as she stepped onto the gravel path, her eyes tracing the contours of the vast, ancient estate.

The butler awaited her at the entrance, a tall, thin man with pale skin and deep-set eyes that made her skin crawl. He bowed slightly but without warmth. When he did, his face was obscured by the low brim of his hat, and his voice was gruff as he gestured for her to exit.

"Eleanor Alonso?" His voice was smooth but cold.

She nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes."

"Welcome to Blackthorn Manor. Come with me," he said simply, and without another word, he turned and began walking toward the entrance. Ella followed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She would not break. No matter what awaited her inside, she would not let them see her fear.

The manor loomed before her, massive and foreboding, a shadow against the moonlit sky. Its gothic architecture was unlike anything she had ever seen — towering spires, jagged rooftops, and darkened windows that seemed to watch her with unseen eyes. The stone walls were worn by time, yet the place held an eerie, timeless beauty.

Grand doors of the manor opened with a creak, revealing a vast entrance hall adorned with dark wood, high arched ceilings, and flickering candlelight. Shadows danced along the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of old books, dust, and something more — a metallic tang that made her stomach turn.

Inside, the manor was as enormous and eerie as it appeared from the outside. Dark wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceilings, and chandeliers adorned with flickering candles cast long shadows across the walls. Gothic tapestries and portraits of pale, austere figures lined the corridors — no doubt ancestors of the de Vallière clan. Their cold eyes followed her as she walked, making her skin crawl.

Finally, they reached a set of large double doors. The butler knocked twice before pushing them open, revealing an elegant drawing room with tall windows draped in heavy velvet curtains. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the dark, polished floors.

In the center of the room stood a man. He was tall and imposing, his black hair falling in soft waves to his shoulders. Pale skin, almost translucent, and his eyes — sharp, icy blue — fixed on Ella the moment she entered. He exuded an aura of authority, the kind that made it clear he was used to being obeyed without question.

"Eleanor Alonso," the butler announced, stepping aside as Ella entered the room. "May I present the heir to the clan — His Grace, Duke Adrian de Vallière."

Ella's breath caught in her throat as Duke’s gaze swept over her. He was beautiful in a way that was almost inhuman, his features sharp and perfect, yet there was something in his eyes that made her shiver. Something dangerous.

"So, this is the girl," he said. The voice was deep and smooth, like velvet laced with steel. He took a step toward her, eyes narrowing slightly. "You’ve been brought here to serve and from now on — you belong to this estate. You belong to us. Is that clear?"

Her heart hammered in her chest. Belong to them? The very thought made her stomach churn with a mixture of rage and helplessness. She clenched her fists, determined not to let him see her fear.

She forced herself to speak, though her voice was barely above a whisper. "Yes, my lord."

Man’s lips curved into a slight smile, though it held no warmth. "Good. Obedience is expected, Eleanor."

Something inside her was demanding to scream at him, to tell him she was not some mindless servant. But she knew better. This man — this vampire — held all the power. Her life was now in his hands, and for the sake of her survival, she had to play along.

Duke Adrian studied her for a moment longer before nodding to the butler. "Show her to her quarters."

With that, he turned away, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture. Ella clenched her jaw and followed the butler out of the room, her mind racing. This was only the beginning and already she could feel the weight of the chains binding her to this place.

“My name is Mr. Hawke, I am the butler of this estate,” man starts as he gestured for her to follow him through the winding corridors of the manor, past more portraits, more closed doors that hid who knew what secrets. “You will follow my instructions carefully and in time, you will learn the rules of this house. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Eleanor replied, her voice barely a whisper. She was too afraid to say anything else. What rules?

“This will be your home from now on,” Mr. Hawke said as he guided her down a long hallway. “You are expected to serve the masters of the house. Obedience is paramount. You must obey every order without question, whenever it is given. You will never enter any rooms without permission, nor will you ever question the wishes of your masters.”

Elara swallowed hard once again. “And... what exactly do my duties entail?” she asked.

Mr. Hawke glanced at her with a faint smirk. “You are not just a servant, Eleanor. You are also... sustenance.” His eyes flickered to her neck for a brief moment before he looked away, his expression neutral again. “The masters will feed on you when they see fit. You are here to serve their needs, whatever those may be.”

Eleanor felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She had known — of course, she had known — that she was to be used for her blood. But hearing it spoken so plainly made it all the more horrifying.

“Do not resist them,” Mr. Hawke continued, his tone stern. “You will find that compliance will make your stay here far more bearable. The masters are... particular in their needs, but they are not cruel — so long as you do not defy them.”

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever as they walked deeper into the manor. Finally, they reached a small, narrow staircase that led down into the servant’s quarters. The air grew colder as they descended, and Ella’s skin prickled with unease.

At the bottom of the stairs, the butler opened a door to a small, dimly lit room. It was sparse — a simple bed, a wardrobe and a basin for washing. The stone walls were bare, and the single window was high up, allowing only a sliver of moonlight to filter in.

"This will be your room," the butler said, his voice indifferent. “Keep your quarters clean, and always be ready to serve when summoned. You will be called upon soon, I’m sure.”

Eleanor stood frozen in the doorway, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty. “When will...?”

“Soon,” Mr. Hawke cut her off, his tone final. “Rest now, while you can. The masters will come for you when they are ready. When the time comes, wear the dress that the master has so graciously chosen for you. A maid will bring it to you before the visit and help you get ready.”

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, leaving her standing alone in the cold, quiet room.

Ella nodded, though her heart was heavy with despair. She had no idea what awaited her tomorrow, but for tonight, she was alone. Stood there, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of her new reality pressing down on her like a suffocating shroud. This is my life now, she thought bitterly. A prisoner. A servant. A blood doll.

She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, her mind swirling with thoughts of escape, of defiance, of somehow finding a way out of this nightmare. But deep down, she knew there was no escape. The vampires were too powerful, their influence reaching far beyond the manor walls. She was trapped in their world and the only way out was through.

As she lay down, exhaustion finally taking over, her last thoughts were of the brothers she had yet to meet. If Duke Adrian was as cold and commanding as he seemed, what would the others be like? Would they be just as cruel? Or would one of them show her mercy?

She had no answers, only the rising dread of what was to come.

But even as she tried to steel herself for the horrors to come, a small, rebellious spark flickered in her chest. She would survive this. She had to. She would endure, and maybe — just maybe — she would find a way to escape.

Or, perhaps, she thought with a shiver as she glanced around the dark room, she would find something worse than death in the embrace of the vampires who now owned her.

Tomorrow, her new life will begin. And with it, the battle for her heart and soul.