He Gave My Three Babies to His Brother's Wife

I was the last of the Holy Bloodline. To the Nocturne Clan, I wasn't a Princess—I was a walking incubator, a terrified blood slave bound by the lowest pact to breed their pureblood heirs.

"I promise you... the next child you bear, I will let you raise yourself," my husband,the Vampire Prince, whispered, holding our newborn son wrapped in his sister-in-law's blanket.

He used my body as a shield against silver blades to protect his sister-in-law.

For nine years, I endured the silver whips, the boiling sunlight, and the agony of watching my babies handed over to another woman.

But when I discovered my husband was the very monster who slaughtered my families, I shattered heart turns to ash.

So, I give him exactly what he deserves—a pile of scorched ashes in a dark prison cell.

By the time the Vampire Prince realizes he cannot live without his wife, I am already “dead”.

The metallic stench of my own blood choked the damp air of the underground cellar, a scent heavy enough to drive any ordinary vampire in the castle into a feeding frenzy.

"Take him to the Eldest Princess Lilith's chambers. Hurry."

A heavily armored guard ripped the slippery, writhing infant from between my legs. The umbilical cord stretched taut, violently severed by the midwife's silver blade a second later.

I lay on the freezing stone altar, my body trembling uncontrollably from the violent extraction. My third child. A boy. Destined to call the woman who destroyed my life "Mother."

The midwife tossed a coarse blanket over my shivering, blood-stained legs and hurried out. The heavy iron door slammed shut, plunging me into absolute darkness.

I didn't even get to hear my son's first full cry.

As the Second Princess of the Nocturne Clan, I should have been giving birth in a velvet-draped canopy bed, surrounded by dozens of kneeling servants.

But that was an illusion. In reality, bound by Draven's Master-Servant Blood Pact, I was nothing more than a walking, breathing blood bag carrying the ultra-rare Holy Bloodline.

My veins were their personal feeding trough, my body kept alive solely to nourish their pureblood vampires and cure their decaying immortality

Five years ago, I hadn't been this quiet.

When I gave birth to my second child, Callista, Draven had stood right where that guard just did. My husband.

The Nocturne Clan's ruling Prince, the pureblood supreme vampire who gripped the military and political power of the entire territory in his hands.

"Lilith needs this kid."

"You already gave her my firstborn son!" I had screamed, lunging off the blood-soaked bed. "Give her back, Draven! She's mine! You can't let Lilith steal another one!"

His crimson eyes were devoid of any warmth. "She is the Eldest Princess. Her position is unstable without a complete lineage. A boy and a girl are perfect."

The guards dragged me away.

I was completely feral. In my hysterical breakdown, I nearly threw myself onto the tray of silver surgical instruments, ready to end it all rather than let them take my baby.

Draven caught me before I could reach the blades.

His grip on my wrists was iron-clad, yet I could feel a faint, undeniable tremble in his cold hands. He pinned me tightly against his chest, his breathing ragged.

"Stop this madness, Liora!" he growled, his voice tight. "If you keep threatening the Eldest Princess and the clan's rules, the elders will demand your immediate execution! You are leaving me no choice!"

"Take her to the Eternal Night Prison," he ordered the guards, his voice dangerously hoarse. "Let her learn her place. But if she dies... I will have all your heads."

Even now, my bones ache at the mere memory of that hell.

They chained me to the damp dungeon walls with heavy, silver-laced shackles. Because of the unique nature of my Holy Blood, the silver didn't just cut my human skin—it seared into my veins like liquid fire, keeping my body in a constant, agonizing fever.

Every single day, the wardens slashed my wrists. They drained bowl after bowl of my precious blood until my heart barely beat and my vision went completely black.

Just as I welcomed the sweet release of death, they forced bitter vampire elixirs down my throat. The potions violently regenerated my blood and healed my wounds, only for the wardens to bleed me all over again the very next morning.

They broke my body to break my mind. It worked. I l learned the hard way that a human slave bound by the lowest tier pact has no right to be a mother to vampire royalty.

I pushed myself off the stone slab.

I dragged my bare, freezing feet up the spiraling stone stairs. Out of the dungeon.

I pushed open the doors of the matriarch's sanctuary and dropped straight to my knees.

Old Lady Vespera, the clan's vampire matriarch and Draven's grandmother, sat by the roaring hearth.

"It's done," I rasped. My voice sounded like crushed glass. "Three pureblood children. Two boys, one girl. That was our deal."

Vespera's eyes softened with a flicker of genuine pity. She tapped her silver-tipped cane against the floor, let out a long, heavy sigh.

"Nine years," she muttered, staring at the flames. "When your family fell, we took you in. We knew the power of your Holy Blood. We thought it would save our decaying bloodline. I never intended for things to turn out this ugly, Liora. I never wanted you to become... this."

"The past doesn't matter," I interrupted, pressing my forehead vehemently against the freezing stone. "The vow, Vespera. Three children for my freedom. I have paid my debt. Release me."

Silence stretched tight across the massive room. Only the crackling of the fire filled the void. My heart hammered against my ribs, waiting for the verdict.

Finally, she nodded. A slow, definitive movement.

"I will honor the vow, Liora. Just wait. I will let you leave the Nocturne Clan."

"Thank you."

I forced myself to stand, ignoring the violent dizziness threatening to black me out. I bowed respectfully, turned, and limped out of the sanctuary.

I met Draven in the corridor.

He stepped out of the shadows of the arched hallway, blocking my path entirely.

He smelled of rare dark wine and Lilith's signature night-blooming rose perfume.

In his arms, securely swaddled in Lilith's signature gold-embroidered velvet, was my newborn son.

His sharp gaze swept over my pale face, my blood-soaked dress, and the pathetic trembling of my knees.

He reached out. His ice-cold fingers brushed a sweaty lock of hair behind my ear. It was a rare display of gentleness.

"Lilith named him Julian," Draven said, his voice a low. "He has your eyes. Lilith is absolutely thrilled. She is already showing him off to the elders."

"I am glad the Eldest Princess is pleased, My Lord."

My submission seemed to satisfy him. He stepped closer, wrapping a strong arm around my waist, pulling my body against his chest.

"You did well today, Liora," he murmured into my hair. "I know it's hard for you. But Lilith's position is completely secure now. The clan is stable. Rest up. I promise you... the next one you bear, I will let you raise yourself."

I slowly looked up at his face.

"Thank you, Draven," I whispered meekly, leaning my head softly against his chest.

He smiled, his grip around my waist tightening.

I closed my eyes, the next one?

There won't be a next one, Draven.