Vampire's Mate [2 Vampires, 1 Girl]

PROLOGUE ~ PART ONE

500 years ago

Rylan Tanner, a young war prodigy and a son of a prominent general, was one of the few well-respected figures by all the people in Gulliver. With just twenty-five years of age, he had led armies to wars more than he could remember, and always brought back victory.

Never had he ever lost a single battle in his life.

Not until one day when he experienced the very first and last defeat from the group of peculiar foreign intruders he had never thought existed in the world.

Vampires.

Spitting crimson blood from his mouth, Rylan kneeled on the blood-soaked ground through the support of his sword plunging into the soil that smelled like iron. He peered at the discarded bodies, who were once his fellow soldiers, scattering all around him, having to fight an indescribable pain that persistently kept stabbing somewhere from the depth of his heart at each body his eyes landed on. The corpses had their necks ripped open; faces and bodies were as pale as snow, resulting from their blood to the creatures in front of the fallen general. As for Rylan, though he was still breathing, his condition wasn't any better. The long-sleeve attire was messily cut into short sleeves as the fabric was torn, revealing gashes of fresh wounds that were still oozing out blood profusely. On the other hand, the side of his neck had blood-dripping holes that resulted from having two fangs inserted.

"From now on, you'll be turning into one of us. The very kind that you heavily despise," said Marcus, a tall man with raven hair. His eyes were sharp, the same color as his lips that were still stained with human blood, wetting, and painting the sexy cakehole with crimson hue.

"Live a life hating yourself, boy. You have so much time on your hand. Just take it slow," Marcus' lips quirked up into a lopsided grin as he stared down at the devastated Rylan kneeling before him. Every word and action of his marked the superior aura that matched with his title as the leader.

"I'll... just... kill... myself," Rylan spoke through gritted teeth, struggling with each word.

Strength began to leave his body, making his arms and knees go weak, yet he refused to let his body fall to the ground. Since he was already a fallen general, the least he could do to save his pride was not to drop right next to his enemy's feet that positioned in front of him.

"Oh, no. You can't kill yourself, you know. That's another curse for us vampires. Suicide is impossible. Also, since we're known as the high-leveled vampires, it means that we're hard to kill, even by the same kind. There's only one sacred object in this world that can kill us, but I don't think I am stupid enough to tell you," said a female vampire with long, blond hair, "but since you're quite good-looking, let me give you a tip. Your curse can be lifted, and you'll become human again."

Just then, a tall, black-haired female vampire, who wore beads around her head and let it dangle down her silky hair as a part of the hair ornament, stepped towards Rylan and placed her hands on either side of his head. She then closed her eyes and focused as if she was trying to read something from him.

"Oh, no. Lara is at it again. Why does she always give out divination for free?" complained the blond-haired female vampire.

After a short while, Lara opened her eyes to look down at Rylan and said, "until a girl with unique blood spilled her sapphire-blue blood, willingly, on your heart, would your curse be lifted."

She paused and softened her gaze, eyes depicting sympathy, before she continued, "but remember, once the curse is lifted, you'll undergo another cruel suffering that was worse than this curse itself."

"Is there even a thing worse than this?" Rylan sneered at the words.

"Never underestimate the pain of a broken heart," said Lara softly with a slight shake of her head.

Rylan could hear and see before the venom started spreading through his veins, bringing a gut-wrenching pain that consumed all of his consciousness and only fed him back the darkness.

The kind of darkness that haunted him for the rest of his life.

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