Bride of Zamir

Bride of Zamir

Ramsey Jones · Ongoing · 82.2k Words

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Introduction

Dragged from the ruins of her shattered life, 18-year-old Amira is sold at a slave auction—until the bidding stops at fifty thousand gold coins. The buyer is Lord Zamir, an ancient vampire bound to a curse that refuses to let him die.

Taken to his manor, Amira expects death. Instead, she finds whispers of the dead warning her to flee. Yet Zamir is unlike the monster she feared cold and violent, but fiercely possessive, and for the first time in centuries, the immortal lord finds his buried heart breaking open again… because of her.

As witches manipulate fate and prophecy awakens, Amira becomes the center of a war she never asked for. A dagger meant to end Zamir's curse cannot fulfill its purpose unless love is real.

But in a world built on lies, even love can become a weapon.

The cruelest truth: the girl they tried to break is the only one he was ever capable of loving and losing her may destroy what immortality could not. When the truth rises, Amira must decide: destroy the cursed lord who saved her or become the reason the curse finally ends.

Chapter 1

Amira's POV

Even before I saw the crowd, I heard them. They were roaring, their voices shaking the walls. All I could do was cower in fear until I was dragged roughly to the podium.

Rough hands yanked me forward by my hair, and I stumbled over my own feet, barely keeping myself upright. The man holding me didn't care. He pulled harder, forcing me up the wooden steps until I stood at the center of the platform, exposed to the horde of angry, eager men below.

They pressed against the edge of the podium, their faces twisted with greed and hunger. Some of them were already shouting, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mess that I couldn't make sense of. They looked like animals waiting to be fed.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" the man beside me bellowed, his voice cutting through the noise. He was the slave seller, a greasy man with a pockmarked face and breath that reeked of cheap wine. "The bidding will soon commence! Prepare your coin and hold your tongues until called upon!"

But no one was listening. The men rushed forward, their smiles wide and eager. Their eyes were raking over me like I was a piece of meat on display. Some of them licked their lips. Others elbowed each other, already arguing over who would take me home.

I stumbled backward, my heart pounding so hard with fright that I thought it might burst out of my chest. But the slave seller grabbed me by the neck and shoved me forward again, his fingers digging into my skin.

"Stay still, girl," he hissed in my ear. "Or I'll make this worse for you."

How did I get here?

The question echoed in my mind over and over, louder than the crowd below. How did my life come to this?

I was just a child when my parents died. They said it was an accident, but the whispers started almost immediately. People looked at me differently after that, as if I was cursed. They said I was the one who killed my parents—they even called me a witch. My mother's family took me in, but they never let me forget that I was a burden. They fed me scraps and gave me rags to wear, and when things went wrong, they blamed me.

"Witch," they called me. "Bad luck."

And maybe they were right. Bad things did always seem to happen around me. Crops failed and livestock died. My uncle broke his leg the week after I arrived. They said it was my fault, all of it.

So when they told me they were selling me, I wasn't surprised. I was just another problem they needed to get rid of.

Tears blurred my vision as I stood there on the platform, trembling and filthy. I hadn't eaten in days. My stomach ached with hunger, and my legs felt like they might give out beneath me. My dress hung off my body in tatters, stained with dirt and sweat.

The slave seller grabbed my arm and yanked me forward again. Before I could react, he reached for the neckline of my dress and tore it down one side, exposing my bare skin to the crowd.

I gasped and immediately tried to cover myself, my hands scrambling to pull the torn fabric back over my body. But the seller slapped my arm hard.

"Hold still, or I'll do worse!"

I stopped, my hands dropping to my sides. Tears streamed down my face as I stood there. I was humiliated and exposed, while the men below jeered and shouted.

"Here she is, gentlemen!" the seller announced. "A beautiful virgin, untouched and clean! Perfect for whatever purpose you have in mind!"

The crowd exploded in cheers.

"Two thousand gold coins!" someone shouted from the back.

"Three thousand!" another voice called out.

"Five thousand!"

"Seven thousand!"

The numbers kept climbing, each one even more than the last. The seller grinned, his yellowed teeth flashing as he pointed to each bidder in turn.

"Five thousand, do I hear seven? Seven thousand, who will give me ten?"

"Ten thousand!" a man near the front yelled, and the crowd fell into a brief hush.

I looked down at him, and my stomach turned with nausea immediately. He was a large man with a belly that hung over his belt, and when he smiled, I saw his broken, rotting teeth. His eyes crawled over my body, lingering in places like my bare chest

Please, I prayed silently. Please let someone else bid higher. Anyone else.

"Ten thousand gold coins!" the seller crowed, spreading his arms wide. "Do I hear more? Ten thousand going once! Going twice!"

No. No, no, no. No, please!

I couldn't go with that man, I couldn't. I'd rather die.

The seller opened his mouth to close the bid, his hand already raised to strike the gavel, when to everyone's surprise, someone yelled:

"Fifty thousand gold coins!"

Everyone gasped. The entire platform seemed to hold its breath. Even the seller froze, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Fifty thousand? That was ten times the highest bid. No one had that kind of money, no one!

The crowd turned as one, necks craning and bodies shifting as they tried to see who had spoken. I turned too, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Who would pay that much for me?

The crowd parted slowly and reluctantly, and a man stepped forward.

No, this was not a man. The moment I saw him, I knew what he was.

He was the most beautiful and terrifying creature I had ever seen. His skin was pale and bloodless, like marble carved by an artist's hand. His hair was black as midnight, falling in soft waves around his face. He wore black leather, and when he moved, it was with a grace that didn't belong to anything human.

But it was his eyes that made my blood run cold.

They glowed like embers in a dying fire, burning red, bright and utterly inhuman. And when they locked onto mine, I felt like I was staring into the face of death itself.

The seller's face brightened with greed. "Fifty thousand gold coins! Going once! Going twice!"

NO!

I dropped to my knees and crawled toward the seller, my hands grabbing at the hem of his coat.

"Please," I begged. "Please don't sell me to him. Give me to the other man, the one who bid ten thousand. Please, I'm begging you—"

But the seller kicked me in the jaw. Pain exploded across my face, and I cried out, collapsing onto the platform. Blood filled my mouth.

"Shut your mouth, girl!" he spat. "Be grateful someone bid this high for you!"

I stayed there, helplessly sobbing, as the reality of what was about to happen sank in. My new owner was a vampire.

I'd heard the stories of vampires. They didn't keep humans as servants or companions. They kept them as blood banks, draining them slowly until there was nothing left but a dried-up corpse.

I was going to die in this creature's hands.

The vampire stepped onto the platform and tossed a heavy pouch toward the seller. It landed with a loud clink, and the seller scrambled to grab it, his hands shaking with excitement.

"Lord Zamir!" the seller cooed, bowing low. "An honor, my lord, truly an honor! She's all yours!"

He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me off the platform. I stumbled and fell, landing heavily on the dirt below. Pain shot through my knees but I barely felt it.

"Zamir... Lord Zamir." I whispered the name over and over, like a prayer or a curse. Slowly, I lifted my head and looked up at him.

He stood tall over me, his glowing red eyes fixed on my face. And then, he smiled. It was the smile of a devil.

That smile was the last thing I saw before the world went black, and I collapsed into unconsciousness.

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