"I am Lord Darius Dreymont," he confirmed, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And yes, little Nomi. I am the vampire who owns you."
He didn't give me time to process the world-shattering, impossible truth. He held me pinned against the cool plaster, his body a solid, crushing weight that completely overshadowed the fragile, impossible reality of my life just seconds ago. The sight of those elongated, diamond-sharp fangs was not something my mind could rationalize, and the final trace of my composure snapped.
My father reappeared from the hall, walking slowly, burdened. He carried a heavy, ornate leather box. The "dowry." He approached Darius with the terrified deference of a servant before royalty.
Darius released my wrists so suddenly that the change in pressure felt like a physical wrench. My arms dropped heavily to my sides, and I would have slumped to the floor if I hadn't instinctively maintained contact with the wall.
He turned his back on me completely in a dismissal far more arrogant and infuriating than any touch. His attention was now solely on the box my father offered.
"The funds and the deeds," my father murmured, his voice cracking with shame and fear. "As stipulated. Everything is accounted for, Lord Dreymont."
Darius took the box with one hand, tossing the heavy object into the air and catching it as casually as a baseball. The leather creaked under his powerful grip. He didn't even bother to open it.
My father, didn't move away. He stayed bowed low, his shoulders hunched in submission. He took a shaky, deep breath and spoke, his voice barely audible.
"Lord Dreymont," he pleaded, the honorific tasting like ash on his tongue. "Before... before you reclaim her. May I ask for a moment? A private moment, with my daughter?"
Darius's red eyes, still glowing faintly from the change, flicked from the dowry box to my father, then to me, still trembling against the wall. He considered the request for a long, agonizing moment.
Then, with an air of utter indifference, he gave a slow, lazy nod. "Very well, English. Fifteen minutes. I will familiarize myself with the holdings."
Without another word, or another glance at me, Darius walked further into the house. He didn't ask for directions. He simply moved with the arrogant confidence of someone who owned the place, ascending the grand, curved staircase and disappearing into the darkness of the second floor.
My mother immediately pulled me into the shadowed corner of the living room, her movements desperate but silent. She didn't shriek or sob; her features were set in a mask of rigid, controlled panic.
"We have to be quick," she whispered, her voice tight and barely audible. "He can hear us, Nomi. Every word. You need to listen and stay silent."
My father followed, wringing his hands, looking utterly defeated. My mother turned on him instantly, her fury quiet but scalding.
"You let me believe we were safe," she accused my father, keeping her voice dangerously low. "I knew the debt existed, but you hid the final summons! You let me believe the contract was dormant!"
He flinched, his body slumping. "I hoped, Eleanor! I hoped he wouldn't come! I hoped the line would break entirely! I couldn't bear to tell you the time had finally arrived!"
"You hoped?" my mother spat, her voice still a whisper but laced with venom. "You thought hope could stop a Dreymont from claiming what's his by blood oath?"
The name hung between them, heavy and ancient, tasting of iron and old graves.
Dad pressed a trembling hand over his face. "Eleanor, please—"
"Don't you please me!" she hissed, stepping closer. "We were supposed to be in this together! I chose to bound myself with you in marriage despite the 400 year old blood oath with the undead on your damn neck, and this is how you reward me? You begged me not to tell Nomi since she was old enough to know, is this because you already planned on blindsiding us when the time came? Who—"
"Stop! Stop it!" I finally managed, the words a raw, broken plea. "This is not real. This cannot be real. This is insane. You are talking about a vampire! An actual vampire!"
My father shrank back from my desperation, his own grief reflected in his eyes. "Nomi, please. You have to believe it. Every word is true. You've seen it for yourself. No human could ever move that fast, could've ever grown a fang out of their skull. This is real. And it is your reality now."
My mother stepped back, her blazing fury momentarily cooled by the sheer weight of my father's defeat. She gripped my shoulder, forcing me to face him. "Tell her, Robert. Tell her the truth of the English name before the time runs out."
My father looked at me, and in his eyes, I finally saw not my cowardly father, but a man carrying a generations-old weight of shame. My denial was finally crushed, replaced by a cold, searing terror.
"It started four hundred years ago," he began, his voice dropping to a monotonous, desperate murmur, as if reciting a boring legal document.
"Our family..the English line, we were the legends, Nomi. The English were the best hunters alive. They killed more vampires than any other clan, human or supernatural. They were that good. It took everything the Dreymonts had to corner them."
He avoided my eyes, staring instead at the faint dust motes dancing in the dim light. "Our ancestor, Elias English, was surrounded with his kin after a botched ambush that was supposed to be the best exhibition yet. With the promise of a cruel death, Elias English begged for his family's lives."
"The Lord agreed to spare them," he continued, the words flat and drained of emotion. "On one condition: that when the time came, a bride would be offered from Elias's bloodline to the House Dreymont. It was an oath sealed by blood, witnessed by thousands. There is no going back on it."
"It's been dormant," my father finished, glancing up nervously toward the staircase. "The English line has only produced sons for nearly four centuries. Every generation, we held our breath. I thought... I truly thought we were safe. You, Nomi, are the first daughter. Your birth, eighteen years ago, was the trigger. You are the loophole they finally
I couldn't speak. I could only stand there, absorbing the chilling, impossible logic that had just redefined my entire existence.
My mother, her fury momentarily spent, stepped forward. She wasn't looking at my father anymore; she was focused entirely on me, her expression grim and resolute. She pulled the delicate, antique silver locket she always wore from beneath her collar, the chain thin and worn.
"Keep this with you, Nomi," she explained, her voice quick and sharp, though still barely a whisper. "Your father told me what he knew of the hunter traditions after you were born. This is warded silver. It will do nothing for a pure blood vampire like Lord Darius. But it will ground you. Remind you..."
She paused, her eyes finally filling with unshed tears. "Remind you that you are an English. That you are strong. Remember the track, Nomi. Remember your control. Don't let him break your mind before he even touches you."
A low, chilling sound of amusement cut through the air. It was a single, mocking laugh, cold and vibrating with total contempt.
Darius was suddenly before us.
He stood precisely where my father had been, his body separating my parents close huddle around me. My mother shrieked in pure terror, stumbling backward. Darius ignored her completely, his red gaze locked on the silver locket dangling from her fingers.
He took the chain, not even snatching it, but accepting it with a slow, dismissive grace.
His cold lips curved into a smirk as his eyes fixed on my mother. "Do you truly think this cheap trinket will interfere with a Dreymont claim, Mrs English?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned to me, the heavy locket resting in his palm. He tutted, a low, intimate sound of disdain.
"It is rather cute," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over my chest before returning to my eyes.
Before I could react, he was behind me. His frigid body pressed flush against my back, trapping me in his dizzying heat. My breathing seized in my throat.
With one hand, he gathered the long, damp weight of my hair, sweeping it over my shoulder to bare the vulnerable skin of my nape. His touch was possessive, a deep, unsettling caress.
He placed the locket. His cold fingers worked the clasp at my neck, and the silver settled heavily against my collarbone.
He didn't move away. He leaned down, his mouth tracing the edge of my exposed skin.
"There," he whispered, his breath unnervingly cool against my burning skin. "The contract is acknowledged, Nomi. Now you wear my claim."
He lowered his head and pressed his cold, demanding lips hard against my nape, exactly where the necklace rested. The contact was shocking, invasive, and purely erotic. A desperate, involuntary moan escaped me. My legs weakened instantly.
He lifted his head, a dark, victorious glint in his eyes. He released my hair and stepped back, putting distance between us, his gaze never leaving my face.
"It is time," he stated, his voice flat with command. "You may weep for your trivial life in the car."
He extended a cold, gloved hand toward the front door. I looked at the door, then at the defeated, silent figures of my parents.
I knew I was lost. The choice was a lie.
I walked past my parents, my body humming with the strange residue of his possession. I reached his side, my eyes locked on his.
I didn't take his hand. I turned, pushed the front door open, and ran, sprinting blindly out into the dark, silent night.