The Blood Bride (Blood Secrets)

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The Blood Bride (Blood Secrets) Page 1

by Nix, Imogene




  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  The Blood Bride

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-351-2

  ©Copyright Imogene Nix 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2013

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 198 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 11 pages.

  Blood Secrets

  THE BLOOD BRIDE

  Imogene Nix

  Book one in the Blood Secrets Series

  Hope and Xavier must fight for their lives and those of the innocents in a battle for good and evil. But will it be enough?

  Hope just wants to be an ordinary nestling. She went to college and escaped, but now she’s back and there’s a secret everyone is keeping from her.

  Xavier is the new Master of the nest, ready to welcome home the daughter of the house whom he has never met. He’s unprepared for the woman who steals his breath and enchants him.

  Now Hope and Xavier must fight for their lives and those of the innocents. After all, it is only by overcoming the rogues that they will have a chance of a immortal future together. But will they be in time?

  Dedication

  No author is an island, including me. So each and every time I get to this point, I have to remember to thank the people who have helped me.

  Thank you to Sue and the Total-E-Bound family—you had faith in me and this book (and series), and for that you have my undying gratitude.

  To the AOS crew all I can say is “Mwah!”

  Kylie, Fiona, Jenny A., Jenny B. and my Kick Butt girlfriends—thanks! Your friendship and assistance means so much to me.

  Mark, Charlotte and Beth—without you there would be no one to spur me on. You hang my stars and moon.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  The Diary of Anne Frank: Contact Publishing

  Dune: Frank Herbert, Chilton Books

  Prologue

  The shadows grew as silence descended on the house, dark greys and blacks that bled into each other. First one figure then another broke away, making a run towards the house. Silent as the grave, they moved swiftly over the dew-slicked grass. Then they stopped still. Waiting. Not a movement betrayed them until a signal propelled them into action. They started to move, crawling up the walls. The damp coating of the walls was no barrier to the intruders as they ascended in the darkness.

  The sound of each window breaking shattered the quiet, and the figures were inside. Screams echoed through the night, but in this area of large estates, with heavy noise-absorbing shrubbery, no one would hear those within. The blood-curdling screams went on and on before finally dying away. Just one sound echoed through the night. The sobbing of a child filled the air.

  The front door opened and the figures trooped out, like ghostly spectres entering the inky blackness of the night. It remained broken only by a single outline of a child in white, carried at the centre of the pack. The sobbing sounds died away to an eerie quiet. Not a word was uttered while they moved as one towards the trees that surrounded the house, silently gliding across the crisp and cold grass.

  Flickering flames licked at the manor, creating a deathly glow in the night, and an oily smoke rose up. A single person stood, wrapped in a cape of midnight blue beyond the house, watching them melt away. Paroxysms of grief were brutally repressed as she watched and waited.

  Finally, they were gone from sight. Though Jemima knew with their acute hearing they might detect her, still she moved forward towards the burning structure, becoming bolder before breaking into a run as she breached the threshold. Vainly she attempted to enter, but the heat of the fire drove her back.

  Sobbing and dashing the tears from her face, the woman raced across the gravelled driveway towards the gates, where the guardhouse was located. Not a sign of life existed within the building, but some instinct of survival slowed her pace to a careful creep.

  Peering through the small windows illuminated by weak flickering lights in the dark night the woman nervously checked within. She was out of breath and heaving with exertion, as well as horror at the brutality she had seen within the main house. Small puffs of white vapour coloured the glass, the air filling with the faint sound of her barely controlled breathing. She darted from one window to another, the cloak drawn tightly around her body to keep out the chill that invaded the night. She also vainly hoped that it would act as camouflage from their keen eyesight.

  Finally satisfied, Jemima entered through the heavy wooden front door, moving towards the phone she spied on the floor before picking it up. Her movements were jerky, her eyes darting here and there, as she dialled with shaking hands, listening to the rotary motor as it returned to the proper position. Time was short and if they came back, she needed to have shared the message. The phone rang once, twice, with a brrping sound, then it was connected.

  “Hello?” A male answered and she felt a warm flush of relief at the voice. One she knew well.

  “The manor has been breached. The girl child taken.” Jemima shook as the words erupted from quivering lips. Her hand trembled.

  “On our way.” The click of the receiver being replaced echoed loudly in the stillness of the room. Copper. She could smell copper. Her stomach soured. That meant more deaths. Jemima looked around for the gun with deadly holy water-infused copper bullets that she knew was hidden somewhere in the room, hoping that none of the creatures remained in the small building. The gun was hidden from sight. No divine intervention exists here, she thought.

  Hopefully they didn’t remain. Feeding. If they were still here, that’s what they’d be doing. She found a corner and scrunched down, hoping to remain out of sight.

  The woman watched and waited, crouched into the space for what seemed a long time. Shivering when she couldn’t control it, she tried to stay as still as possible while listening for sounds of the vehicles she knew would be coming. She dug her fingers into the flesh of her arms, but she remained aware enough to stop before drawing blood. That would surely bring them out. The woman dragged the cloak around her to capture the warmth that she craved, but there was little to be found.

  Finally, the sounds of engines roused her from the corner of the room where she waited. Jemima inched towards the window, the lead of the old glass distorting her view, but the raised voices she knew. She opened the door of the small house and went outside.
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  * * * *

  The angry roar of powerful cars died away as the last pulled to a stop. Voices echoed in the night. The sound of sobbing from the back vehicle filled the air.

  “Verity, stay in the car.” The sound of anguished sobs emanating from the back seat of the car broke her concentration for the tiniest instant. Jemima took in the tableau being played out, her heart beating wildly in her chest. The human who had emerged from the car, wore an immaculate black suit and silk tie, denoting his status within the nest. There was strain on his face, written in the tight white lines around his mouth and the constant tic she noted. His wife, Verity, sat being comforted by two of the Mistress’ underlings. Her despairing wail rent through the still night, while her makeup ran, leaving dark mascara streaks on her face, as it cut through the rouge and paint she wore. Her elaborate evening gown rumpled while she rocked back and forth.

  Only the dim flicker of flames and smoke filled the air, the time from the call to their arrival leaving no more than a burning shell now. She knew it would obscure almost any scent but remained hopeful. This far out, they couldn’t expect a fire truck and while the emotions of loss and sorrow pulled at her, she understood the child was a higher priority now than saving those already lost. But the emotions clawed at her.

  “They came in swiftly. Not a coven or nest that I find vaguely familiar, Mistress.” She relayed the information in broken bursts, while a small silver-haired man stepped forward on quick, silent feet. Even though she had been raised within the nest, she still forgot their super speed sometimes…among their many other gifts.

  “The only scent I recognise is Miss Hope’s and even that peters out once I am beyond the main drive.” The silver haired man, James, bowed low.

  “Yes. But I recognise another scent, but I can’t see how he could have survived the fires.” A statuesque woman, blonde and possessing piercing blue eyes, stepped forward. Mistress Cressida had arrived. Her movements were graceful and she was striking in an ice blue formal suit, tall and slim with pale skin and ruby red lips that glistened. An unmistakable aura of power and age surrounded her, and Jemima shrank back slightly.

  “Mistress?” the small man asked once more, his movements just as graceful as the woman he addressed. His skin was as pale as alabaster, and pale green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark turned towards her carefully.

  “It certainly smells like Estersham.” The Mistress’ eyes closed briefly as if to close off some thought that was uncomfortable. “And if it is, we have a problem.” She turned once more, her face set and eyes now glacial in intensity. “James?”

  The woman—the Mistress—spoke, as if to herself. “If it is Estersham, then I will do everything I can to retrieve Hope.” He nodded jerkily and she continued. “But if I need to take those steps, then you know I cannot return. Do you understand that?” Her voice hardened while her eyes glittered in the dim light, piercing in their intensity and for the first time the woman watched as he shrank back slightly from the ferocity. Jemima had never shown any sense of concern in her presence before, and the thought speared her. Not until now.

  “Jemima? Please recount what happened here tonight?” the Mistress demanded without turning back.

  “Mistress?” The vampire nodded but remained turned away, so Jemima couldn’t gauge her reaction. “Young Hope left some items in the vehicle as she was feeling unwell today. She experienced a headache and a vague sense of something that caused her distress. I stepped out of the manor to retrieve her things and then went to pick some berries to tempt her appetite.” Once more she trembled, knowing her words were being weighed and measured.

  “I requested Leah to complete the warding of the house as soon as I was gone, and she said she would. Alonzo was in charging of warding the perimeter once you had departed. I was just returning from the gardens when I saw them, so I hid as best I could. There were many and they surrounded the house.” She stopped, breathing heavily and reaching a shaking hand upwards. The despair she had felt earlier overcame her once more, and she pressed the shaking hand against her mouth, holding onto the sob that wanted to erupt. The pain in her chest bloomed.

  “They waited until signalled and then scaled the side of the house and entered through the windows. They shattered the windows as if there were no wards and then entered.” How could they have entered? But she pushed it away. The Mistress would be the one to examine that. “I heard the screams, Mistress. Then I saw them exit with Hope in the middle.” This time Jemima couldn’t control the shudder of fear and revulsion that built within her. Her eyes burnt with unshed tears. This night they had all lost so much. Some had lost everything, friends, lovers. Sons and daughters. It seemed incomprehensible to her that a group of vampires could perpetrate such an inhumane act.

  “She was crying, but appeared unhurt from what I could see. They carried her towards the tree line and kept going. I watched as the house burnt, then I came here to alert you.” She swallowed, anxious to make sure they knew and understood. “There was not a sound from within the manor when I attempted to gain entry. I tried to get in, Mistress, but the fire was too hot.” She crumpled as her body succumbed to the memory. Aches and pains she had ignored now made themselves known as did the pain of the burns on her hands and arms. The short man—no vampire, she thought dimly—caught her in his arms.

  “Jemima, it is good that you were able to see where they went and let us know that Hope was still alive. Is there any more information that you would share with us?” His voice was soft and compelling.

  “Yes, Master Michael. When I reached the gatehouse there was no one alive, but I could smell copper. I think the guards are dead too, but I waited in one room to make sure I was hidden in case they came back. I think they fed and I’m sure they knew where to find the guards.” This alone frightened her.

  “Well done, Jemima. Go to my car and get in. We will look after you. You have been good and loyal. We will protect you.” He pushed her slightly forward, and she stumbled her way towards the vehicle.

  “Wait! Where is David?” The woman they called the Mistress spun around to pierce Jemima with her gaze, and Jemima trembled, knowing she sought Hope’s brother.

  “Miss Verity allowed him to spend the night with a friend. He has six guardians stationed at the house he is staying in, together with his tutor. It is one of the nests we associate with.” Her voice was still unsteady, but she gave the answer quickly, reassuring her Mistress, watching as she nodded slowly.

  “Good. James, have Verity contact the parents. Then you will go with Michael and the house defenders to collect him. Take him to the town house and remain inside until I return.” Her voice was flat. Jemima saw he looked ready to argue, his mouth open, but he subsided at a hard look from the Mistress of the nest.

  Then the Mistress’ voice called out in the near silence. “You and yours have been my loyal servants for so many years. I took an oath to protect you long ago. I renewed it with marriage and births, over and over. Now, my home and yours have been breached and your child taken from us. The girl child, who will be the hope and salvation of our kind, was ripped from the bosom of our nest. I will repay your loyalty and I will get her back.” The power in the words boomed through Jemima’s system and she fell back against the vehicle. Jemima watched as the woman cast her eyes over the ruins along the path before turning back to them.

  A tinge of something lay in Cressida’s - the Mistress, Jemima reminded herself - eyes. Was it pity? Fury? Jemima didn’t know. “You need to get David and Verity to safety now.” With a turn, she dismissed them all. Jemima watched as James bowed deeply and turned towards the car, even as she climbed into the vehicle she had been steered towards.

  “James? Even if I have to use force, I will get her back, and I will not leave you unsafe. If I must go, then another will be sent to protect you. You have my word on that.” Her words were hard, but gave Jemima hope that they would survive. With that thought, she watched as the Mistress strode into the guardhouse, a figure
in blue alone, heels crunching through the gravel.

  * * * *

  Hope shivered in the small room, her bare feet cold and sore. She just wanted to go home. She needed to go to the toilet too, but it seemed important to hang on. She didn’t know why, just that something made her know this.

  The sickness had come upon her once more during the day, and she could smell the sourness beside the bed where the vomit lay in a congealed and smelly mess. It wasn’t normally like this. But then they had taken her. She wanted to cry for her mother or father. But that seemed senseless.

  If only she had known that the nightmare, which spilled over into a daytime sickness, had meant danger. Always in the past, she had known, but something about this time had seemed different. Scarier than ever before. So she hadn’t told anyone. In the past they had smiled and patted her on the head, because it had meant the loss of a pet or something unimportant.

  Her thoughts were muddled too. As if it wasn’t as yet a definite outcome. Silent tears dribbled down her face.

  Hope didn’t want to sleep, even as drowsiness tried to steal her from her current state of terror. It was an effort to fight it off and she clawed at her hands with blunt nails, fighting the grip of exhaustion. Instead, she thought about what she did know. She knew what they were, just as she had known for some time the reality of what Cressida was. She was a vampire. They were too.

  Hope knew Cressida was old and strong, but it didn’t make a lot of sense. How could she know something like that? She couldn’t ask, but somehow that truth was there.

 

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