Kindred: Book 1 of The Immortal Beloved Tetralogy. Read online

  Kindred

  Book 1 of The Immortal Beloved Tetralogy

  A Paranormal Romance Novella

  By Zelda Tuffin

  Copyright © 2022 Zelda Tuffin

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Paperback ISBN: 9798841666509

  Cover design by: GetCovers.com

  Editor: Ramona Magdolna Balog

  Contents

  Copyright

  Warning

  Chapter 1 - Election of Providence

  Chapter 2 - Reflections Unseen

  Chapter 3 – My Prince

  Chapter 4 - A Second Night

  Chapter 5 - Blood Memories

  Chapter 6 – Kindred

  Chapter 7 - A Song of Souls

  Chapter 8 - The Feast

  Chapter 9 - Reassuring The Beast

  Chapter 10 - Secrets of Promise

  Chapter 11 - Hereafter, Yours

  Chapter 12 – Noctiflorous

  Chapter 13 - Regina Sempiternal

  Chapter 14 - Eternity Dawning

  Chapter 15 - Until Our Next Night

  About The Author

  Coming Soon

  Warning

  This book contains scenes of an erotic nature that may be unsuitable for reader’s below legal age. It also contains descriptions of violence and pain that some readers may find distressing.

  Chapter 1 - Election of Providence

  It had all happened so quickly.

  One moment she was scrubbing the baseboards of the main staircase in the Maison de la Chauve-Souris, focusing on her chores, and the next, it was as if a bomb had hit her life with such force, it were as though she had been scattered to the four winds of creation.

  It wasn’t meant to be this way…

  The Patrician Cyrus Ty had come strolling down the corridor with a man Ashlyn had never seen before, followed by two rather flustered women in rapid motion. The tension between them all proceeded their approach. Sensing something was amiss, Ashlyn drew herself further into the shadows of the staircase, as was her custom. Keep things clean, don’t be seen. Such was the life of a Bloodbound.

  “…you need one more,” the man said, a note of impatient despair to his voice. The stranger had stone-like features, more carving than flesh, his brow seeming permanently furrowed. His skin, though almost translucently pale, held the texture of aged parchment. He wore a black suit with a cleric’s scarf that flowed down towards his knees in the Clan Prince's colors. Ashlyn sank back an inch further, sensing the power radiating off of him from across the room.

  “I apologize, Mystic Rivaclin… we did not know he needed thirteen this time. We have no more girls… unless…” He looked briefly at Thana, his daughter and overseer of the sacrifices, then shook his head. “No, you're needed in the dining room with the rest of us. But who could we–”

  He stopped speaking just as his nose twitched and his face snapped towards Ashlyn in the shadows. She dropped her sponge as soon as his eyes locked onto hers, frozen in terror. She had never been noticed by The Patrician before. Yet, now he was gazing right at her, his stare boring into her with cold contemplation from his mustard-colored irises. He took a few steps towards her whilst maintaining his distance. He didn't need to come any closer – his predatory eyes were keener than those of any other creature living on Earth. He could scrutinize her with a sniff and yet he was surveying her with such piercing judgment. His stare was so intense that Ashlyn felt compelled to stand, fully aware that she shouldn't dare look a Nobleborn in the face, yet she couldn't help herself. Her limbs felt suddenly stiff, as though she was no longer in control over her own body and though every instinct in her told her to run, she continued to hold his gaze.

  The scent of pending death loomed in the air.

  After a moment the Patrician turned back to his guest, a questioning eyebrow raised.

  The other man nodded slowly, casting a sideways glance at the girl. A grim smile spawned on his features

  “He has been known to crave human blood before. In every probability, he will just pass her by, but at least it will give you your thirteenth tribute. And beggars can't be choosers… you are sure you can spare the serf? Likely your staff will be left shorthanded; I would not wish to inconvenience the household.”

  “It is of no consequence. We will abide with one less maid.”

  “But my Lord, will His Majesty not be offended by common blood?” Elizabeta, the Mistress of the House, chimed in, her brow so tightly knit together it almost vanished off her haughty head. The woman was as beautiful as a ceremonial knife, all extravagance and sharp edges. She was about to voice her argument further but a single look from the Patrician was enough to silence her unflattering tongue. Everyone knew that the Mistress hated the humans, seeing them only as beasts of burden and the occasional meal to ward off starvation. And while it was a sentiment the Patrician usually shared, it seemed tonight he had other things on his mind than to bandy words with his wife.

  “She will do, Lady Elizabeta,” the Mystic reassured her, his eyes filtering back to where Ashlyn stood about ready to faint. “Even the highest among us enjoy the occasional… naughty nibble. . . between courses…”

  The man trailed off, his eyes flashing with deadly intent that suggested the matter was best put to bed. Cyrus stepped between them. He bowed simply to the Mystic and turned to Thana. “See to it,” was all he said as he marched off with the Mystic towards the parlor.

  The women all remained as they were until they could no longer hear footsteps. Then in one single bound, the Mistress flung herself across the room, towards the staircase and grabbed Ashlyn’s arm in a painful grip, hosting her up off her feet as the vampress held the maid three feet from the ground whilst she leaned over the banister.

  “Embarrass us in any way girl, and I will flay the flesh from your bones and feed it to my dogs. Do I make myself clear?”

  Elizabeta stared at her hard, her grip tightening on Ashlyn's arm as the girl fought not to whimper in pain. It felt as if her bone was about to snap when suddenly Thana was beside the Mistress of The House, a hand on her stepmother's shoulder.

  “Best not to bruise the peach, Mistress. We would not want to spoil her before The feast.”

  A long moment passed before the other woman let go, and Ashlyn fell painfully to the floor in a heap, knocking her bucket of soapy water over the tiles in a wave of suds.

  “Make her as presentable as you can,” the older woman sniffed, eyes narrow. “Everything has to be perfect, or else it will be all our heads.”

  And with that, Elizabeta vanished from view, leaving a shivering servant to the commands of the Sister of Sacrifice.

  It took Ashlyn a moment for the shock to settle, but she quickly recovered and scrambled to collect her sponge and start cleaning up the discarded water around her.

  “Leave it. We don't have much time,” Thana snapped, descending the steps, and hauling Ashlyn to her feet. She looked Ashlyn over quickly, her shoulders sagging at the sight that befell her, before turning her around and marching her up the stairs, ignoring the girls dripping skirt. “We must get you cleaned and changed before the clock tolls.”

  Grabbing Ashlyn’s hand, Thana pulled the maid along one corridor and down another towards yet another set of
stairs as she hastened to voice her instruction.

  “You must forget yourself a Bloodbound tonight and pretend that your life has meaning, that you are honored by a higher calling.” Her words were rushed and fierce, like pepper on the tongue. Scolding yet pronounce. . . a teacher who would brook no arguments nor unsatisfactory results – yet cared for the welfare of her student. “You understand that you are honored, yes?”

  But Ashlyn didn’t understand. Why had she been chosen? It couldn’t just be that she was the only one in the vicinity, could it? Was her life really so insignificant as to be so simply discarded? Or was there some merit to this fate that she had yet to glean? For as far as she could tell, the Mystic had just dejected her as a vampires amuse bouche!

  When Thana received no reply, she stopped them in their tracks and whirled on Ashlyn. “Should you be graced by his presence, then you must fall to your knees in reverence. Do not meet his eye, do not even look at him. Do not speak unless directly asked a question… What am I saying? If he commands, you will it. Utter no words lest you offend him with your–” Thana stopped again; her features softened as she fought to catch an unnecessary breath. The vampire breathed in deeply, and Ashlyn knew she was tasting the air and her fear.

  Apparently, it was enough to halt her usual lecture on the honor of one’s station, something the vampire usually took very seriously. “Who am I fooling. . . there is nothing you could say to offend him.” Uncharacteristically the vampire cupped Ashlyn’s lower jaw in her icy fingers and met her eye. “You are a lovely person Ashlyn, and it has been my pleasure to know you.” Was that a tear in her eye? “Just be yourself and pray to whatever God you might have found that you survive this trial.”

  Ashlyn stood shocked, held in place as much by frigid wonderment as by the vampire’s hand, so unused to the show of sentiment Thana now displayed. But it was short-lived. A distant toll from a grandfather clock reminded them of the urgency of the evening.

  “You must prepare yourself. Show no fear. It can taint the blood –” Turning on her heels and starting them back on a brutish pace that Ashlyn struggled to match, Thana went back to business listing her instructions without a trace of her momentary compassion. “And if His Majesty decides to drink, do not struggle, let him have it all, and be glad in the knowledge that in this small way, you can serve your house with honor.”

  His Majesty!

  What was happening? This was all too much. Did she mean…? Was she…? Was the Patrician really honoring her as a tribute to the Prince? It couldn't be. She was just a worthless human, born with no name and found amongst the ashes of the meadow…

  “Mistress, I. . .”

  “You will bathe, quickly! And change into your gown. We haven’t time to waste now. The night is upon us. If you have questions, you must speak them swiftly.”

  Confusion and fear stilled Ashlyn’s tongue momentarily, but she fought to make her words heard as she stammered.

  “B–but I– I am not worthy!” she pleaded, unable to comprehend the rapid turn of events. “I am just a human castaway! I have no heritage, nothing good about my name – I am not of Noble Blood nor a vampire, I can't–”

  “No, you are not, but I don’t have the time nor the resources to find someone who is. So, you will have to do. And pray that you are pleasing enough to sup from and not just to kill.”

  The two women looked at each other then and for the first time since childhood, Ashlyn saw a look of pity cross Thana's face.

  "Just be quiet and accommodating and you might yet live through the night.”

  And with those cold parting words, Mistress Thana pushed Ashlyn into a bathroom and locked the door. There was nowhere to run now, nowhere to hide. Fear ricocheted through her body, but Ashlyn forced herself to get ready, to powder and prime, apply knol and perfume her skin; all things she had done a hundred times for the noble daughters but never for herself. She was so nervous she didn't even enjoy the warmth of the bath she ran nor the novelty of not having to clean herself from a cold bucket of water…

  She focused solely on Mistress Thana’s words and the honor her sacrifice would bring.

  When her dress for the night had been brought to her, she donned it with pride, lovingly smoothing out the skirt and sleeves, amazed at how well it fit her. Her robe was white, for the virgin sacrifice, The Untasted. Having always been too lowly to be fed on, with no name or birthright of her own, Ashlyn had been consigned to the dregs of the serving classes, fit only to clean the dirt from vampire shoes, and seldom ever allowed in their presence save to serve their baser needs.

  And yet now she sat in a grand room, though admittedly one of the smallest and least significant on this floor, dressed in the most beautiful clothing to ever touch her skin, waiting by a side table laden with platters of food and wine that she must not touch, ready to entertain the Prince’s thirst.

  She looked out of the moon glass window at the garden beneath and towards the Ash Meadow where Mistress Thana had first found her twenty years before. She had never expected to come to anything, and now, on this night, she had been selected… The incredibility of such an honor was not lost on her.

  Even if it would spell her death.

  Chapter 2 - Reflections Unseen

  Such a simple, fleeting thing, life… Ashlyn mused, watching the noble daughters gather in the courtyard garden beyond the rose arbor below her window. The opening ceremony was about to begin, but Ashlyn was to remain in her room rather than be presented to the Prince and even she could understand why. Dressed as she was in the most lavish garment to ever grace her body, her plain dress and pale features were nothing compared to the vampires.

  They were all incredibly beautiful creatures, dressed in the finest damasks and styled with such opulence that they could easily have emerged from some grand painting. They each wore a king’s ransom in fine gemstones and broaches, their jewelry paling in comparison to their natural allure.

  For all her years living with the world’s deadliest predators, she had learned to appreciate their beauty, along with her fear of their nature. Most were cutthroat and earnest. Hellbent on living up to their reputation as creatures of the night, binging on blood and living in a feudal system that revolved around honor in much the same way as the Samurai. The rules were simple. Embrace the family you belonged to and served or lose your life. Betrayal, shame, and misconduct, all had the severest consequence.

  Being a maid in a mansion of the undead had instilled in Ashlyn a healthy dose of respect for the creatures, and as much as she feared the wrath of some, she had also come to appreciate the honor of others and their way of life. She knew the part she played was minuscule but the fact that the Ty family had kept her here at all…Well, it was a debt she could never fully repay.

  It is an odd mix when gratitude and fear outweighed one another with every shifting second of the day.

  And now, she was not only in the house serving for The Feast nights but a part of one of the vampires’ most sacred rituals.

  An Untasted Tribute to the Vampire Prince himself…

  The Feast was held every twenty years on the moon cycle before the Blood Song Harvest, a three–night event known as the Bride Hunt. Being the oldest and truest of the immortals, the Clan Prince fed for sport rather than necessity, and he was famous for being something of a blood connoisseur. He delighted in sampling the life force of his creations as well as humans, and for most Feast nights, the daughters of the noble houses were offered for his appeasement.

  But where humans were provided, they seldom survived. It was rumored that the Prince’s thirst was so insatiable due to the infrequency of his feedings, that he would often get into such a frenzy he would drain the tribute just like any other vampire, immortal or not – till death. And that one victim was not enough to state his appetite. Ashlyn had never laid eyes on the Clan Prince herself, but she could not help but conjure the worst picture of this royal blood fiend.

  From what little Thana had told her of vampire traditi
ons and what she had gleaned herself from stolen snippets of overheard conversation, Ashlyn knew that The Clan Prince had yet to marry in his lifetime and that it was something that all the vampires longed for. They all gathered in a chosen location every Blood Song Harvest to parade their daughters in front of the Prince in the hopes that he would find the one he sought, and the immortals would finally have their Queen. It was believed that this vampress would be the one to end the curse of the immortals but the details surrounding the myth were vague. Ashlyn only knew that it was imperative that this vampress, whoever she was, be found.

  With three moons locked in this room and not knowing whether her body might be interred at the end of the lunar cycle, Ashlyn wrapped her arms around herself, scared stiff.

  It will be alright, she tried to console herself. He only savors those of royal blood. If I am to die it will at least be quick and painless enough…But her words of self–reassurance were in vain. They only added to her fear in knowing that a quick death would be just as insignificant as the life she had led thus far. And for some reason, that thought alone terrified her more than the notion of a prolonged and agonizing bloodletting. At least if she died horribly, there would be some semblance of hope that someone, somewhere, might remember her. After all, the Concord of Honor, the archivists of vampire history, often boasted of the deeds of some great knight or hero, for their sacrifice in the face of unbelievable odds, the torments, and tortures they endured being revered as an honorable death, sung by heralds, and carved in stone for all to remember.

  But that was a stupid wish. No one would remember her…

  If she was lucky, another maid or two might miss her for a week or more – until some other poor soul got roped in to fill her duties. Quinn, of course, would be distraught. Her young friend relied on her and was the closest thing to a sibling she had. Though Ashlyn took some small solace knowing that, as a favorite of the head cook, the girl would still have a protector, she fervently wished she could at least say goodbye.