SOLD TO THE FIVE VALERIAN VAMPIRE BROTHERS - Free To Read

Eleanor Ravenshire stumbles as the chains around her wrists pull taut, yanking her forward. The damp air bites at her skin, the weight of her fate pressing heavier with every step toward the towering gates of Noctis Manor.

"Move, girl," the guard snarls, shoving her roughly. She nearly falls, but she straightens, swallowing down her fear. She will not show weakness—not to them.

The iron gates groan open, revealing the dark heart of the Valerian vampires' domain. Shadows dance under the moonlight, twisting along the cobbled path leading to the grand manor. The building looms, its gothic spires piercing the heavens like talons.

Eleanor’s breath hitches. This is where she will die. Or worse—live as a blood servant.

Inside, the heavy doors slam shut behind her with a finality that sends a shiver down her spine. Her heart pounds as she is led through dimly lit corridors, the walls lined with flickering candelabras and ancient portraits with hollow-eyed gazes.

Then, she is pushed into a vast hall.

Five figures stand before her, their silhouettes bathed in eerie candlelight.

The Valerian heirs.

Predators, every single one of them.

Lucien steps forward first. Tall, sharp, and commanding. His icy blue eyes rake over her like a wolf sizing up a meal. "So, this is the offering?" His voice is a blade wrapped in velvet. "Pathetic."

Eleanor clenches her fists. She refuses to cower. "I am not an offering. I am a person."

A dark chuckle rumbles from the second brother, Dorian. He leans against a massive bookcase, his glasses sliding down his nose as he observes her with interest. "A person, you say? How quaint. Humans are only what we allow them to be."

Cassius, the third brother, steps closer, his golden hair gleaming under the candlelight. He smirks, tilting Eleanor’s chin up with a single finger. "I like this one. She has fire. Perhaps we should keep her—see how long she burns before she breaks."

She jerks her head away, glaring. "Touch me again, and I’ll make you regret it."

Silence falls. Then laughter.

Cassius grins. "Oh, I definitely like her."

"Enough," a voice cuts through the amusement.

Viktor, the warrior. His presence is suffocating, his crimson eyes burning like embers. "We need a servant, not entertainment." His gaze locks onto hers. "Can you follow orders, girl?"

Eleanor lifts her chin. "I am not your servant."

Lucien’s expression darkens. Faster than she can react, he moves—one moment he is across the room, and the next he is inches from her, gripping her throat with an iron grip.

"You are whatever we decide you to be," he murmurs, his breath cold against her skin. "You’d do well to learn that quickly."

Eleanor gasps, her pulse hammering. The other brothers watch with varying degrees of amusement, curiosity, and indifference.

Then, the last brother speaks.

Silas.

"You should let go before she stops breathing, Lucien," he says lazily from where he lounges in the shadows. His voice is softer than the others’, almost detached. "Not that I care, but it would be inconvenient to explain a dead servant on her first night."

Lucien tuts but releases her. Eleanor stumbles back, clutching her throat, swallowing gulps of air.

Cassius claps his hands. "Well, that was fun. Now what?"

Lucien’s piercing gaze doesn’t leave Eleanor. "She will stay. Whether she likes it or not."

Eleanor’s stomach churns, but she forces herself to meet their gazes head-on.

Dorian sighs, pushing himself off the bookshelf. "Welcome to Noctis Manor, Eleanor Ravenshire. You belong to us now."