He Gave My Three Babies to His Sister-Wife

My husband slaughtered my families, let my own son lash me, and pushed me onto a silver blade to shield his older brother’s wife, Lilith, and also his lover .

He thought I was just a breeding bag and blood bank for pureblood vampires.

He thought the Holy Blood could heal all my wounds.

But he didn’t realize that once the heart is deeply wounded, it can never be healed again...

When his lover stabbed me, he blocked the blade at the cost of his immortality.

But I just want to escape his control forever...

The metallic stench of my own blood choked the damp, freezing 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 High Lady 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 Consort 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

Four 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 a kid." His sharp, elongated fangs briefly grazed his bottom lip.

"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 High Lady. 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, a jaw muscle ticking frantically. "If you keep threatening the High Lady 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, betraying the very indifference he tried to project. "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 strung me up by silver hooks pierced straight through my collarbones.

The wardens repeatedly held my head under vats of boiling Holy Water until my lungs practically melted.

Then the ceiling panels retracted. The concentrated sunlight didn't turn me to ash, but boiled my Holy Blood alive, day after day, until my spirit completely shattered.

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. Straight toward the ancestral wing.

The castle guards watched me limp past them like a ghost.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the matriarch's sanctuary and dropped straight to my knees. The brutal impact against the obsidian floor sent a jolt of pure agony shooting up my spine.

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 the deal."

Vespera's ancient, ruby-red 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 noble house 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. You will be dead to the Nocturne Clan in the right time."

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

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

For a fleeting fraction of a second, something resembling guilt flashed in his crimson eyes, but it was instantly masked by his usual arrogant, unbreakable composure.

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, smooth baritone that used to make my teenage heart race. "He has your eyes. Lilith is absolutely thrilled. She is already showing him off to the elders."

I kept my gaze fixed submissively on his collarbone. "I am glad the High Lady is pleased, My Lord."

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

"You did well today, Liora," he murmured into my hair, flawlessly playing the role of a magnanimous husband. "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 handsome, aristocratic face. The face I used to love with every fiber of my foolish, naive soul.

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

He smiled, his grip around my waist tightening. He actually thought he had finally tamed me completely.

I closed my eyes, the next one?

There won't be a next one, Draven.