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Blood from Stone, Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2021-11-02 16:55:54 +0000 UTCI'll be uploading a welcome video today that will explain this, but so you all know: any written work here is a DRAFT. It'll be as polished as possible, but may contain typos, and things may change in the final version once I get to publication. This work is copyrighted and may not be shared in whole or in part in any digital or physical form, except by myself or with my express permission.
~This novel is a new adult reverse harem novel, featuring vampires and other supernatural critters. As such, it contains adult content including violence, language, and sexual content.
Enjoy!
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Chapter 1
Liliana frowned as the driver, a man who’d worked with her family since she was a little girl, gave her a hurried farewell, burning rubber as he peeled down the private road from the estate. She knew well the dark secrets of the men who dwelled here. The Winterbournes were legendary for their savagery, but this mansion was to become her home. Having been trained for this since birth, her hardened soul held no room for fear. With seven unbeating hearts, Liliana Gunnstein’s destiny prowled within these walls.
She didn’t bother poetically staring up at the majestic architecture that loomed ominously in the encroaching darkness, the spires and numerous buildings shouting a warning to the young woman as the sun plummeted below the horizon. She’d have thought the grounds were beautiful, under any other circumstance. Instead, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed the handle to her suitcase, rolling it along behind her and heading inside. The chill of New York’s autumn charged in as the sunlight was swallowed by the bowl of stars. The weather was getting too frosty to wait outside until someone came to fetch her.
Judging from the sheer size of the buildings that made up the Winterbourne estate, Liliana was surprised she was not greeted by servants, or someone to take her bags and direct her to her room. If not a servant, she would have settled for being guided by the lord of the manor. She’d been wandering the halls since she’d been unceremoniously dumped at the curb, and she hadn’t seen a single sign of life since the doors shut behind her. The variety of random indoor greenery she came across didn’t count.
Liliana was a patient person, but as the minutes continued to roll over, she felt her fuse burning dangerously closer to the powder keg. Grumbling under her breath, she finally came across a place to sit, almost as if the mansion had heard her tired feet screaming for respite. The buttery, slick brown leather ottoman beckoned her with its siren song, and she sank gratefully onto it, dropping her backpack onto the floor with a thud that echoed through the empty hallway. Slumping backwards, she let her head rest against the cool stone of the wall behind her and her eyes slid shut.
There was a war going on inside of Liliana’s head. The reserved part of her, infinitely patient from the years of training she’d undergone, and the more natural part of her psyche that goaded her to physically combat anything she encountered.
Who the hell did the Winterbournes think they were? She’d been raised up to be sent to them once she came of age, and not a single bastard one of them had shown up to welcome her to this unfamiliar place. After aimlessly trying to find some center of the compound, hoping to run into some other intelligent lifeform, she’d given up hunting for them. Having taken a break on the bench she’d discovered, she decided to search a bit longer before just returning to this spot and sleeping there for the night. She had shelter, she had food in her belly and her bags. Those things combined with the unimaginably comfortable spot she sat were more than sufficient for her to get some rest.
She found her fingers tracing the raised stitches on the bench beneath her, somehow managing to be both rough and supple all at once. In a near meditative state, Liliana could hear voices. She stopped absorbing the number of stitches with her fingertips and listened, keeping her eyes closed. None of the words were totally clear to her, but she felt she could home in on their origin without too much trouble.
Deep grey eyes shot open as she heard the unmistakable hollow thud of fists descending on flesh, and the accompanying crash of a body being thrown to the floor. Adrenaline roaring through her veins, Liliana Gunnstein was on her feet and running toward the noise of battle, her bags forgotten and any worries for her personal safety obliterated. After being left to fend for herself in the maze of hallways, she was ready to kick someone’s ass. This was the perfect opportunity to strike while the iron of her rage glowed vermillion.
She ran down the hallway, coming to a set of double doors that were ajar. Slamming into the bar, she shoved the door wide and stumbled into what looked like a gymnasium, her shoes squeaking on the waxed hardwood floor. The building reminded her of the high school she’d gone to, and the industrial box standard doors were no exception. The entire room was cast in shadows, barely lit beyond utter darkness by the moon that filtered through the skylights in the high ceiling.
She could make out the shapes of two men on the ground, grappling and pummeling each other mercilessly. The relentless dull thud of flesh hammering against flesh compelling her to act. Running to where they fought, she shouted: “Hey!”
The shadows froze, the sudden cloak of silence that descended on the large room speeding Liliana’s already racing pulse. They didn’t move, didn’t breathe. It was eerie and unnerving. Every alarm bell in her head was ringing, and she found herself taking a hesitant step backwards as the men got to their feet. They were tall, easily a head taller than she was, and the breadth of their shoulders made her wish she had anything at hand to defend herself with.
Realizing the men had been sparring rather than fighting, she felt like a fool. How the hell would I have pried apart two grown men who were trying to kill each other, anyway? Idiot. Liliana cursed herself mentally, taking another step back as they advanced on her with a distinct slowness that was predatory and maddening.
They both stood stock still, their faces obscured by shadows. There was a soft sound that she almost didn’t hear. One of them was sniffing, not like he had allergies, but as if he were scenting the air. Smelling her.
“Oh, shit! Orion, what day is today?” The one closer to her spoke first.
“Friday, numbnuts. Why?” The second man’s voice was very similar to the first’s.
“I’ll show you whose nuts are numb, when I shove my knee into yours, ya dick.”
“Yeah, right, Oberon. You’re too slow to land that kind of hit.”
Their names seemed familiar, but her brain had gone into survival mode. Taking advantage of their bickering, Liliana turned on her heel, preparing to run back out the doors and to the familiar safety of the weapons stored in her luggage. An involuntary squeak escaped her lips as one of the men appeared before her with a speed that was anything but natural, effectively blocking her avenue of escape. Spinning back in the other direction, she slammed into a wall of flesh that was unexpectedly warm. Since when did vampires start generating their own body heat?!
“Who’s the slow one now, fucker?” The man before her wrapped sinewy arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
The second moved in close enough that Liliana was sandwiched between their bodies, and she thought about how most any other woman nearing her twenty-first birthday would have paid for this experience. A low, rumbling chuckle caressed her ear, fingertips tracing a teasing trail down the side of her throat sending a shudder through her whole body. Her anxiety level reduced from a ten to a nine from that simple show of compassion, but she was still so full of adrenaline that someone could have peeled her off the ceiling.
“Way to not waste time turning on that smut charm of yours, Orion.” The vampire holding her hostage scoffed at the other. He must have been Oberon.
“Now, now, little brother. No need to be jealous. And besides… You know too much cortisol taints the blood.”
These were some of the very Winterbournes she’d been searching for. This wasn’t how she’d expected to meet them, but she also hadn’t been given any formal training on how to conduct herself when she did come across the men she’d been destined to serve since her birth. Feeling like she should introduce herself, she opened her mouth and Oberon cut her off, lifting her off her feet like she weighed nothing.
“Welcome home, Liliana.”
They struck at the same time, twin sets of fangs piercing her flesh with such sudden ferocity that it was all she could do not to scream. Not from pleasure, but from searing agony that set her nerves on fire and ground salt into the razed and barren remains. Her vision went white, spots dancing in her vision as they greedily fed from the fount of her veins.
She bit down on her lip, doing her damnedest not to let loose a single whimper. Liliana was raised to be a warrior, to defend herself from any who might try to take her away from the very vampires she was meant to be a bloddukke for. How could she manage that if the mere act of being bitten had her wanting to curl up in a ball in the corner?
The intense pain that bolted through her was nothing like what her father’s musty old tomes spoke about. A vampire’s bite was supposed to bring immense pleasure unlike anything most mortals tasted in the whole of their lifetime. She closed her eyes, every muscle in her body taut as a fiddle string as she tried to meditate her way past the all-consuming torture that wracked her body. Even the sensation of their tongues sliding against her throat did nothing for her, not even enough of a distraction to say so.
Oberon’s grip on her had shifted and her hands were now free. She wrapped her fingers around his forearms, trembling with the effort not to dig her nails into his flesh and flee the scene. Her sense of duty warred with her survival instinct, ultimately coming to an impasse that let her wrap her legs around his waist. She was trying to both hold herself up and crush him with the strength in her thighs.
Orion’s hand gently framed her face, the pad of his thumb tracing across her cheek. Oberon released the wound on her neck to chase a small rivulet of blood that ran down her chest, catching it with a curl of his tongue directly over her heart. Orion stopped drinking at the same moment.
“Oberon, something’s wrong.”
The man in question cradled her body more fully, his hand pressed to the center of her back suddenly becoming gentler as he felt the tension singing through her frame. “Shit. You’re right. I thought she was just being quiet. Let’s get her into the light.”
Liliana couldn’t even speak. She felt like a puppet, or a doll, as Oberon whisked her from the gymnasium and into the hallway. Dim lights lit the space and she could truly see them for the first time. Everything that had been pounded into her since early childhood wanted her to enjoy what she saw. She should consider herself lucky to be indentured to identical twins with blond hair, blue eyes, and the sort of physiques that human men couldn’t attain without devoting their life to the gym. Logic didn’t give a damn about how pretty they were, though. They’d hurt her, whether they intended to or not.
The whole world tilted crazily as they moved down the hall to where her luggage was. The weapons in her suitcase practically screamed for her, but she couldn’t even move. She longed for the familiar feel of their hilts in her hands, to soothe away this horrifying and sudden shock at what felt like nothing less than the loss of her innocence.
Oberon set her down gingerly on the very same bench she’d sat on when she first arrived. All snark was gone from his tone as he knelt before her. Cornflower blue eyes met hers, the depth of grief in them like a stab to her heart. “You are Liliana, right?” Tears poured silently down her face, an involuntary reaction. She clenched her hand into a fist, still unable to find her words. She managed a single nod. He looked over his shoulder to his brother. “How the fuck can a bloddukke feel pain from our bite?”
Orion shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’m not the scholar. Maybe we should ask Leon.”
Oberon nodded. “We’ll do that later. For now, let’s get her to her room. Get her something to eat.” He stood to his full height, towering over her from her seated position, and held his hand out to her. “Can you stand? I know a little about bloddukke training, and I don’t want to wound your pride by carrying you around like a fashion accessory.”
Liliana replied with a sound that was a sob and laughter interwoven together. She placed her hand in his, warm fingers closing around hers and helping her to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she threw a hand out and caught herself, thanks to the stone wall beside the bench. Normal sensation was beginning to return to her body, her vision no longer hazy or filled with spots. Off kilter as she felt, at least she was recovering quickly.
“I’ll grab her bags,” Orion said, letting Oberon lead the way.
“Still has her bags and everything. Where the fuck is the one who was supposed to show her around and take her to her quarters?” His words ended on a snarl, the murderous gleam in his eyes every bit the predator. The brothers talked back and forth, but it remained largely static to her as she focused on her legs not becoming pools of semi-solid gelatin.
Liliana leaned on his arm when she needed to, but mostly tried to carry her weight on her own. She felt like she was trying to work poison out of her body. The extra movement would either heal her quicker or drive it to her heart and kill her faster. She wasn’t honestly sure which scenario she’d prefer, at that point. After walking for what felt like hours, and ending up in a different building entirely, the twins showed her to the room that would be hers for the rest of her life.
Suite would be a more accurate description. There was a decent sized living area, with a separate bedroom, bathroom, and a kitchenette. Liliana was confused. This wasn’t the servant’s quarters she’d been prepared for. Her belongings were meager, regardless, but this room had space for three to live comfortably. And the king-sized bed was no joke, either. Feeling strong enough to stand without Oberon’s help any longer, she stepped away from him and lightly ran her fingers over the heavy black duvet, looking around the space that would make most apartments seem small, by comparison.
“This… is mine?” Her voice came out small, breathy.
Orion took a seat on the plush armchair right beside the bed. “It is. We tried to decorate to your tastes, but your father didn’t give us much information. So if there’s anything not to your liking, we’ll get it changed ASAP. Furniture, paint on the walls, carpets. Anything.”
“…Why?”
“Because modern vampires don’t treat their bloddukke like slaves. We have a more symbiotic relationship. Happy doll, happy us, right?” Liliana murmured her assent. “Let me guess. Your father had the dusty old European grimoires about vampires, didn’t he? The ones with the cool old hand drawn engravings.” Oberon sat on the edge of the bed and she sank down beside him.
“I used to… Love tracing them when I… Was young.” She stuttered horribly, but finally managed to force her lips and tongue to form words.
“You’ve got a lot of antiquated shit to scrub from your brain, then. Except for Aubrey, none of us are far past one hundred, so we don’t operate like that.”
Orion rose, bare feet padding across the carpeted floor to the fridge against the far wall in the living space. He returned with a large glass of orange juice and a bowl of strawberries so ripe they looked like they’d burst if she touched them. She arched a questioning brow at him and he laughed, sitting on the other side of her.
“If this is the part where you try to feed me from your hand like a pet, I might bite off a finger. Consider yourself warned.” Her voice was gravelly and hoarse, like she’d been screaming for hours, but at last she could form a complete sentence.
Both men howled with laughter, Orion handing the glass to her before his chortling could accidentally spill the liquid all over the bed. She chugged it, not giving a damn about table manners. And they weren’t at the table, anyway. “That’s more of the attitude we were expecting. The juice and fruit will give you a quick hit of sugar to wake you up and help your iron levels. Hope you really love spinach, or you’re going to have a rough time.”
Liliana snatched the bowl of strawberries away from Orion, stating with pride: “I just so happen to be able to eat it raw by the handful.” She took a bite of one of the deep red berries, the juice bursting in her mouth as her teeth cut effortlessly through its flesh.
Oberon chuckled. “He figured you’d prefer something light over liver.”
She shrugged, mumbling around the mouthful of fruit: “This is a lot quicker, so it’ll do for now.”
The twins sat silently as she devoured the strawberries, having a conversation over her head, and in theirs.
Not only did she get dropped off at the wrong goddamned building, but she’s clueless as to how things really work. And what the fuck are we going to do about this whole causing excruciating pain bit any time we need to feed? Oberon’s thoughts echoed in his brother’s mind, consternation creasing his brow.
Orion sighed aloud. If we need, we can always find someone else to feed on until we get it figured out. Bonding with a bloddukke is supposed to be borderline sacred. We don’t want the girl to get worn down by fighting that level of pain multiple times a day. It’d kill her inside of a few months, if she even lasted that long.
Liliana stared at the two of them, her eyes narrowing. “Are you having a mental conversation, right now? Literally over my head? With me sitting right between you?” The twins shrugged sheepishly in sync with each other. “Is that a vampire thing, or a twin thing?”
“A little of both,” they said in unison, laughing together. Liliana couldn’t help but join in. She'd been taught to work through pain, moving past it with more ease than most. When it was physical, at least. She wasn’t ready to forget, but she was willing to forgive the twins. It didn’t hurt that their good mood was infectious.
Oberon looked to the clock on her nightstand. “It’s almost midnight, now. You should get some rest.”
“But aren’t you lot up all night long?”
“We are. It’ll take you a few days to adjust to our schedule, though. You know we don’t need to sleep more than an hour or two.”
Her brow furrowed and her chewing slowed. “You don’t need protection by day? While you're asleep and dead to the world?”
Two sets of blue eyes shared a glance of concern. “We’ve got a lot of misinformation you’ll need to unlearn, apparently. But we can start on that in the morning. Over breakfast. In the sunshine. With the rest of our brothers.”
No one had to tell her twice. “I’ll unpack and rack out, then.” Liliana got to her feet, wobbling unsteadily for a second before catching her balance.
“Rack out? Jesus, were you raised in a militia?”
She paused on her path to her bags, tilting her head in wonderment. Studying their expressions silently, she finally barked a laugh. “Did you really not know that I was? Raised by a militia, I mean.”
Orion whistled. “Wow. Alrighty, then. Apparently, there’s a lot of crossed wires from both sides of the com lines. Get some sleep, we’ll catch you in the morning.”
“Do you take your coffee black, too?” Oberon asked, still overcome with disbelief.
She snorted. “Do I look like a barbarian to you? No way!” The three of them laughed and the men bid her goodnight, leaving her to her own devices.
Once everything was unpacked and in its proper place, she dressed down for bed and crawled under the heavy covers. Running the pads of her fingers over the tender, throbbing, barely scabbed over wounds on her throat, Liliana let her vision settle on the ceiling in the darkness. She couldn’t help thinking it odd that this building didn’t look anything like a castle from the inside.
Comments
So I am finally getting around to actually reading your work... I know you have probably edited this already by now but in case you missed it. Paragraph 6 "... not a single bastard one of them...." It reads kind of weird. Maybe "... not one single bastard of them...." or "... not a single bastard of them..." Paragraph 7: Not sure if you meant home or hone. But dang I'm already hooked.
