2. Bella

The rain turned into an onslaught of water pouring down from the heavens as the clouds obscured the sun behind its dreary great pillows. The breeze picked up, making the water hit in violent thrashes. The wind roared like an angry beast and whipped my hair into a frenzy.

It slammed into me, nearly knocking me off balance as I clutched onto my book for dear life. My arms shielded my face from the onslaught of debris flying through the air. I clutched it harder under my cloak, praying the pages were not damaged aside from the blood.

It felt like a baptism under heaven”s wrathful gaze. Which god or goddess had been angered was anyone”s guess.

The street emptied as people ran for cover. They didn”t look at me even as they forced their way past me, careless and uncaring about this angry half-breed who was blocking their way. They couldn”t see past the soaking dark cloak that shielded most of my form except for my narrowed eyes and frowning lips.

Raindrops slid down from the brim of my hood, hitting the ground around me in an unceasing cadence. At times, they came down so hard and heavy that I could see nothing but white water before me for minutes at a time. This storm wasn”t normal; it had been building since early morning and was now reaching its peak as night fell upon us. Lightning crashed all around, followed immediately by ominous thunderclaps that shook the earth beneath our home.

”All that for a book, you stupid girl,” I muttered as I continued down the street. It had been more than just about a book. I felt the sting of the rejection like a hard slap across the face.

Hope was deadly, yet I clung to it like a life raft. Passing an abandoned food cart, I snagged some old and dingy carrots, which would do for now. My stomach clenched, but I shoved them in my pocket instead: at least I could live today. Tomorrow was another story.

”Isabella!”called my father”s voice from inside my mind, jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced around the dreary, muddy street, realizing I”d been lost in my bitter thoughts.

I trudged through the wet path, my shoes quickly becoming muddier. I dreaded entering the cramped, damp quarters I shared with my father in the shifter village. Our one-room shack was little more than a glorified hovel with a dirt floor and leaking roof. I barged through the door, the walls shaking at the force. It wasn”t exactly cozy, but some areas didn”t get rain, and a fireplace gave heat—it would do.

I slammed down the book on the empty table, its pages rustling in protest before I sank into the rickety chair that groaned beneath my weight. It was such folly—why had I been so invested in this doomed plan?

Apparently, the chair had it out to get me, too. It leaned precariously to the side, threatening to fall to pieces beneath me. I expected nothing less.

I inspected the book, wiping my hands on my semi dry pants as I dropped the cloak back onto the chair. The blood mainly had only hit the outside portion of the book, its slick leather seemingly waterproof as I could wipe it off with my dark tunic. Then I cringed, realizing I now smelled like blood.

I smelled like dinner.

The floorboards beneath my feet creaked with a sinister groan as if the house had a hidden crypt lurking deep within its foundations. The crypt inhabitant waking, which it did. And he was.

My gaze drifted to the only window in the room, its surface obscured by a splintered crack. Rain pelted against it, creating a raging river of motion.

Squinting into the darkness, I tried to make out the time of day through the gray tones and rushing water. The moon stayed hidden behind thick clouds as the rain calmed enough to be seen. We rarely lit fires, and winter air nipped at my wet skin. I longed for the sun”s warmth and feared hunger or cold would kill me. My mind focused on its rays, and I could almost feel their warmth wrap around me. The mind was a powerful thing.

The sun was my comfort; the sun filled me with pleasure I knew I shouldn”t have as a half-vampire. As a child, I had loved basking in its warmth, feeling the rays against my skin. That was until jealousy from my uncle”s court started making me more cautious. The sun smelled sweet, like candied sugar, and despite not having felt its warmth for many years, it could be smelled on my skin.

Vampires were jealous, vicious creatures. I learned quickly that I needed to avoid it; too much sun meant longer and more painful baths to scrub it off my skin, and orange blossoms became mandatory whenever I ventured out. They loathed the smell of citrus almost as much as they loathed me. Win-win, in my opinion.

”Did you have an eventful day, my dear?” a smooth voice from the shadows said. My heart beat wildly as I turned to face the bitterly cold silver eyes that seemed to call out to me.

I rolled my eyes in exhaustion. ”Whenever do I not have an eventful day in this town?” I groaned, resting my elbows on the table and dropping my head into my hands.

The air shifted as he moved closer than before, taking his usual seat across from me with a stern look on his face—it never changed. He was beautiful yet deadly—my father. Despite knowing deep down how dangerous he was, something about him always drew me in.

This scared the shit out of me.

I held his gaze, not worrying for once that he would enact punishment. I knew he would—it was just a matter of when. He had a stern look on his face. I stared at him for a long moment, noting the same cold detachment that permanently marred his perfect features, the cruel tilt of his lips.

”I can smell it in the air, the scent of fresh shifter blood. What did you do?” He leaned forward, and his silver eyes shifted to storm clouds like mine. They darkened and narrowed until they were almost entirely black. His long nails curved into sharp talons, and his incisors lengthened as he smiled cruelly. ”Tell me, Isabella—what mischief have you been up to this time?”

He tried to disguise his words with a sickly sweet tone, but nothing was reassuring about them. I knew that if I told him about Gideon”s attack on me, he”d fly into an uncontrollable rage. The undead are especially prone to uncontrolled outbursts during the hour after rising, and since he was over a thousand years old, his would be far worse than most.

It wouldn”t be Gideon he blamed, no. He”d blame me. He always blamed me. I was the reason our kingdom was destroyed, I was the reason we lived in a hovel in a shifter village, and I was the reason we had nothing. I was the reason for all our bad luck and all our heartache. It made me wonder more than once if I was indeed the reason for all the bad that had befallen us. Why hadn’t he just abandon me years ago?

I could only be so lucky.

I took a deep breath and slowed my heart rate, trying to look as calm as possible. ”It was nothing,” I said carefully, giving my father a hesitant smile. ”Gideon just slipped and hit his head—I helped him.” I pressed my lips together, biting my bottom lip as I forced my heartbeat slow and steady. I licked my dry lips, trying not to flick my eyes to the book on the table.

He hadn”t always been this way.

My father, Prince Roderick Val”Draco, had once been heir to the vampire kingdom. After the sorceress cursed our family and toppled the regime, we were outcasts clinging to delusions of reclaiming our rightful power.

He had once been kind and benevolent, as warmhearted as a vampire could be. His name was praised throughout the kingdom like a prince in its shining glory before the sorceress appeared. The mask he had held vanished, the pretending stopped, and his true nature emerged. There was no one important watching anymore, I supposed.

Not that life at the Vampire Court had been pleasant besides my nanny. I had no one. I was a half-mortal child, never considered a princess, and nothing but vermin to the vampire. Many times, they would find ways to hurt me, kick me, throw me down. A few times, they had got around to biting me. I was barely old enough to walk the first time I had been bit. It had been a nice little snack for them.

They had been warned and reprimanded verbally but never punished for how they’d treated me. I was never allowed to play with other children because I was beneath them. I had lived a lonely existence as a child. Despite this, I had gotten back up each time they had knocked me down.

It was one of the many reasons I refused to turn. I didn”t want to become cruel. I didn”t want to be a vampire, clinging to my immortality. My human side was everything to me. My nan had been mortal and human, and she had been kind.

The love he held for me, the love he pretended to have, was fake and only upon his convenience, now it no longer existed. As all he had for me was contempt and blame. I was the reason for all his problems. No longer the cute, half-breed daughter he could occasionally pretend to love. Just a burden he couldn”t get rid of.

I remembered the sorceress vividly; her icy white hair flowed like a river around her naked form as she had strolled carelessly through the palace gates. Her eyes were like sapphires frozen in time, radiating with a chill of terror that shivered up my spine as she’d approached.

Some said she was a goddess if the rumors were true, for it only took one angry glance from those sapphire eyes for an entire kingdom to crumble at her feet. I”d never forget the moment she turned her gaze on me; instead of hatred or cruelty, as I had found in so many other immortal beings before her, I had felt a strange connection that seemed to flow between us.

I’d reached out for her, my heart heavy with the hope that maybe this being would be different. Yet she’d shook her head, denying me once again. With an earth-shattering roar, our kingdom had toppled beneath her divine wrath.

I’d huddled beneath a rock that threatened to crush me at any moment, hidden from her view. I had seen her pause and turn her head as if she’d heard or seen me. I’d held my breath, waiting, praying that if she ended me, it would be quick.

She’d walked past me like I was nothing, as if I were buried in the rubble. I didn’t remember how I had been saved and pulled out. Only I knew it wasn”t until daylight that I knew the danger had passed.

As if the sorceress had known the moon goddess, Nyx, wouldn”t mind if she destroyed one of her kingdoms. As if she had her support. I hated the gods and goddesses; they were so fickle and cruel. I refused to pray to any of them.

I supposed I should have been horrified by the news of my uncle and his closest members from the Vampire Court being dead, but I hadn’t been. After all, they were even crueler to me than anyone else. Walking through that palace had always been a delicate task, as a half-breed, human princess like me had been seen as a tempting snack.

My hand moved instinctively to my neck, where I knew the scar of a rather viscous bite showed. My fingers felt the rough edges of the ruined skin. Having been bitten before I could even walk, I had quickly grown to despise my father”s people. The only things I had regretted losing were a warm place to sleep, a constant food supply, and my nanny, who’d happened to be the only person who had ever shown me a hint of love in my short life.

If only the shifters knew we held the same dislike of vampires, maybe they”d hate me less, but I doubted it.

”Clean this up and eat now. Your stomach is giving me a headache.” Roderick hissed, his nostrils flaring. His eyes glowed red, a stark contrast to his gaunt, pale face. ”You waste enough time at that pitiful excuse for a job. Hurry up and lock down the house so I can leave.”

”Of course, Father,” I muttered, my stomach growling again.

He closed his eyes tighter as if my extreme hunger annoyed him. I picked up a knife and thought about stabbing him with it. Regrettably, it wouldn”t kill him, it would only piss him off. Instead of arguing, I went to the cabinet to peer into it, hoping to find something to cook with the carrots but knowing I would see nothing. A deep ache clutched at the emptiness inside me, almost taking me to my knees.

I gritted my teeth and pushed through it. Wondering, not for the first time, how long it would take a half-vampire to starve to death. A vampire would live shriveled up and in pain for eternity. But a half-vampire, there was no telling. It could be today if I were lucky, or this pain could continue forever if I were unlucky.

I glanced over to where he still sat, looking out the dirty, cracked windowpane as if he were lost in a past that was long since gone. The fallen vampire prince left the kingdom with only his half-breed daughter to suffer through his pitiful fall from grace.

”One day, I will have my revenge and take back what was stolen from me,” Roderick muttered as he gazed out the grimy window into the darkness.

I tensed, unease creeping down my spine. I knew all too well the lengths my father would go to regain his lost glory. His pride and cruelty knew no limits.

I shook my head and continued my search, more concerned with survival than his bottomless pit of despair and grandiose ideas of reclaiming the throne that had been lost to him for years.

Finally, I almost cried out when I found a small bag of rice hidden behind some cobwebs and dirt—a feast from what I was used to. I began to wash it and prepare the rice while eating the shriveled carrot as I went. It wasn”t even enough to consider a small snack, but it was something, and I was grateful for it, even as my stomach demanded more.

As I worked, my mind drifted to dreams of a better life, far removed from this dreary existence. I imagined myself living in a grand castle, surrounded by lush gardens and adorned with priceless art. I would wear beautiful gowns and dance the night away at elegant balls, my every need attended to by doting servants. Most of all, there would be books—so many books for me to read anytime I wanted.

That was why I”d taken the book Isla and Adrian. It was a fairytale, a woman who found love when she wasn’t looking for it, a woman who persevered and was the heroine with her mate by her side. It was a tale of two vampires different from what she knew of what vampires truly were—emotional. In my experience, they weren”t loving, and they weren”t the subjects appropriate for an epic love story. It was pure fantasy.

I”d had a life of comfort once upon a time. That past was fraught with threats and violence at every corner. Vampires were not gentle creatures and lacked the maternal—or, in my father”s case, paternal—instincts needed to raise a child. The luxury wasn”t worth the scars.

In my fantasy, I had it all, including a family who loved me. People who cared if I lived or died and who wanted the best for me. Something I”d never had before. Something, if I was being honest, I yearned for more than anything. It was too bad it was just a fairytale, and fairy tales weren’t real.

”Isabella!” Roderick barked, snapping me back to reality. ”Stop daydreaming. I must go.”

”Then go,” I snapped through gritted teeth.

Fear lanced up me that he would hit me, and I muttered a quick apology. I didn”t feel like being beaten again today. I couldn”t help but wonder how different my life would be if I hadn”t been born just a human. Would I have had the chance to fall in love and be swept off my feet by a man who would love me and treat me with kindness?

”Pathetic,” Roderick sneered, taking a sip from a flask filled with blood he”d most likely procured recently. ”You”re as useless as your mother,” Roderick spat. ”Unlike me, she was a mere human peasant—I should never have polluted my noble bloodline by lying with her.”

”Screw you,” I muttered under my breath, earning a glare from Roderick that sent shivers down my spine. It was no small secret that whoever my mother had been, he”d hated her. All I knew of her was that Roderick hated her, and that was all I needed to know, in his opinion.

”Watch your tongue, girl,” he warned me, his voice dark and dangerous. ”Or I”ll rip it out.”

”Sorry, Father,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. Though I really wasn”t sorry. I knew better than to push him too far; I bore the scars of his wrath, both physical and emotional.

As I retreated to my corner of the shack, I allowed my mind to wander once more, seeking solace in my dreams. In my fantasies, I was strong and powerful, able to defend myself against any who sought to harm me. I was loved and cherished, free to explore the world and all its wonders without fear or judgment.

I could fly, and nothing held me back. Not hunger or the words spoken from Roderick”s cruel lips or the abuse at the hands of many throughout my life. There, I was free.

”We mustn”t stay in this town for too long, lest we be forced out.” My father peered at me from the chair, worry pressing at the smooth, taut skin around his eyes—worry for himself, not me.

I stared into the dusty corners of the dirty hole-in-the-wall shack we called home and huddled in on myself to fight against the cold that seemed to always find its way in. I found myself thinking, not for the first time, what would happen if the people of this town learned who he was?

Me, I was nothing, just a bastard half-breed of noble blood. It mattered little. But him, well, they”d be interested in learning about him.

The kingship could still be claimed with him still in the land of the living. But one needed force to keep the throne in a land as viscous as its people. Over the years, we”d heard the lordships that survived were looking for him, ready to sever the line entirely and elect a new ruler. They could do neither without him.

He could do nothing without an army to support him. So we hid, I starved, and we waited. Him for a future that would never come to pass and me for freedom however it came to me. Gideon was not freedom but another prison of its own.

”Yes.” I nodded reluctantly, shaking off the guilt of not being able to scrape together enough money for a decent meal. The carrots I”d found were shriveled, and the tiny rice seemed a far cry from a real meal; it was barely enough for a mouse. With the little money that remained, food was becoming a luxury, and soon, we would have nothing left at all. I had no means of providing for myself as he did.

My father frowned and pressed his lips together as if he wanted to say something before erasing all expressions of emotion and fixing his face into indifference. I stepped closer to the fireplace, trying to warm my hands, knowing that even when the moon rose high in the sky at the darkest hour of the night, they wouldn”t feel any less numb. My breath appeared as a misty cloud, and I hastily added the last log to the burning fire, a spark igniting within.

”You should marry the mutt,” Roderick announced after a long, impregnated silence.

He meant Gideon. He wanted to pawn me off to an alpha wolf who would eventually tear me down to shreds just to wipe his hands of me. I wasn”t surprised. I was too tired to be angry anymore today.

I refused to meet his pale gray gaze when I said, ”I won”t marry him.”

I turned my head from the fire to meet his now, once again, expanded red-rimmed black pupils. I knew my father had once cared for me, not like other fathers cared about their daughters. He cared about his things. That’s what I was to him, a thing.

He cared enough that I lived, ate occasionally, and was warm. The affection that should have been evident was stolen from him when the sorceress cursed the vampire kingdom with her heartless spell. His brother, the king, had been ripped to pieces before my eyes. He hadn’t been there.

“Isabella,” Roderick called out again firmly.

“I can’t marry him. I won’t!” I said with more force, shifting my feet closer to him. The smell of damp soil and a hint of bitterness lingered in the air around us, of darkness and deep places. He let out a tired sigh.

“You had better figure something out soon, girl. Or your only other option is to be made,” he announced like a loud bang throughout the small room.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon us. I dared not speak and very nearly dared not breathe. If there was anything I didn”t want in the world, becoming a vampire was it.

”I apologize, Father. I was…daydreaming,” I mumbled, shifting my feet closer to him.

He let out a tired sigh. ”Try not to die through the night. I must be off.”

Hunting, he meant. I shook my head, returning my gaze to the small fire, its faint light barely illuminating the small space we had called home since winter had started. A few logs remained on the dying flames, just enough for me to lay down on my bare pallet and drift off into a restless sleep.

Dreaming impossible dreams such as that, somehow, I”d find a way to escape this wretched life and be free, proving to everyone—including myself—that I was more than just a cursed half-breed.

Until then, I held onto my dreams fiercely, knowing they kept me from drowning in despair. Falling into a hungered sleep, I hoped to get lucky and not wake up this time.

I was never lucky.