Vampyre | Book I of Bloodlines

THE PERFECT VAMPYRE BRIDE

Darius

Recalling the vision we shared brings me reassurance, knowing that our daughter is already on her way. It guarantees Viola's survival, making her the sole priority in this tumultuous journey. If Viola is indeed carrying our child, her safety becomes paramount above all else.

As much as I long to be present for Viola and our daughter, ensuring Viola's survival takes precedence, even if it means sacrificing myself. I nestle into Viola's hair, relishing her scent that evokes memories of our shared dreams by the seaside.

My fingers trace declarations of love on Viola's skin as she breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "Darius?"

"Yes, my love," I respond softly.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Anything within reason."

Viola pauses, her words hesitant. "If the situation arises where I am unable to act, I want you to use my body to fight."

I meet her gaze, puzzled but what she asks of me. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not a warrior; I don't have the capacity for violence. Even now, in my transformed state, I know I'm stronger and faster, but I don't know if I could ever...rise to the occasion if necessary. You're a fighter, Darius. You're trained. You've taken lives before... If the need arises, use my body to fight."

"I could never use you in such a manner. To lose power over one's bodily autonomy is a trauma you've suffered before; there's no telling what effect controlling you would have later."

Viola slips her hand onto my face, her thumb lovingly stroking my cheek. "Darius, I trust you implicitly. Whatever happens, you have my consent."

I exhale slowly, searching her eyes. "Darling, if I were to stain your hands with blood, to utilize you as a weapon when it goes against what you are, it would tarnish your essence. Witches are inherently nurturers and caretakers, not takers of life."

"But I am more than just a witch. I am also a Dhampir, a lover, and a mother to Elliott and our daughter. How can I protect them if I cannot fight? If something happened to you or Elliott that I could have prevented, how could I possibly live with myself, knowing I was too weak or too scared to act."

I take Viola's hand from my cheek, place it over my mouth, and sigh—there's no talking her out of this.

"Viola, I promise to do everything within my power to safeguard you and our daughter when the time comes," I say from under her hand.

Viola finds solace in my assurance and settles herself comfortably with a big smile on her face.

"Our daughter," she whispers as sleep claims her.

The sense of urgency that drove me just hours ago to flee this house has inexplicably faded, but with so much at stake, I refuse to become complacent.

I get out of bed, swiftly dress, and take a little moment to watch Viola sleep as I button my shirt. Her gorgeous naked body is wrapped in a sheet. She looks so content sprawled out in the middle of the bed—her long, brown hair cascades in gentle waves, reminiscent of the graceful tendrils of an octopus. A sight of pure beauty.

I begin preparing for our departure by waking Sophie and having her pack her belongings.

I scour the garage, locate some trunks, and quickly start packing Viola's and Elliott's possessions, focusing on the essentials.

As I handle Viola's clothing, I come across a blue silk dress—a garment that evokes memories of the night William forced her to wear it. Anger surges within me, and before I can stop myself, I tear the dress to shreds. Blue, a color reminiscent of an empty, vapid blue sky or formless fog, feels so unfitting for Viola—she belongs in red.