Xavier.
The only boy in this cursed school who ever noticed my presence. In a place where humans and vampires walk the same halls under forced civility, he was the one who dared to speak to me like I mattered. And last week—he confessed. Said he liked me. He said he had for a while now, and I rejected him.
Not because I hated him. Not because he was rude. But because Xavier had bones so feeble, one small fall could land him in a hospital bed for weeks. Fragile. Breakable. A boy like him wouldn't survive a heart like mine.
Unfortunately, the universe has a cruel sense of humor. We got paired to share the same dorm room this semester.
The blood pie was finally done. I had followed every step carefully—two drops of essence, one hour of cooling. It was perfect. I placed it neatly in the fridge, sealed and ready. In two days, it would be delivered to Leo, my enemy, my target.
I stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower, mind focused, heart steady. But when I came out, towel-drying my hair, I felt it—that cold grip of dread in my chest.
Xavier was on the floor.
The pie platter? Empty.
I ran to his side, panic breaking through my usual calm. His eyes were closed, chest unmoving. No heartbeat. Nothing. I bit him—not once, not twice—but several times, hoping my venom might restart something. Anything. But after seven hours… there was still no response.
He was dead.
And for some unknown reason… I felt sad. Deeply, disturbingly sad.
With shaking hands, I carried his body into the forest behind Luner High. I buried him under thick roots and loose soil, hoping no one would find him. No scent trail, no witnesses.
Two days later, it was graduation.
I wore my blood-red robes, took my certificate, and had no smiles for the photos, I just slipped away before the camera flashes, could catch too much, and they discover am a vampire My driver waited by the car, and the engine was running. As we pulled away, I saw something.
Something staggering out of the forest.
Covered in dirt.
Moving slowly, awkwardly.
It was Xavier. But this time… he was walking. Without crutches.
My breath caught. I slammed the car door open, almost breaking it and running toward him. The moment I reached him, he collapsed into my arms. And though his body was still heavy—6'5, built like a tank—he no longer felt fragile. His bones didn't creak. His pulse was strange but present.
I carried him to the car, knowing any human watching would instantly recognize me as a vampire. No regular girl at 5'4 with a very tiny build should be able to carry a man like him. Especially not with ease.
I took him to the Clan House.
The Clan House was headquarters for all vampire kind. Power here is split between vampire clans—each clan representing a bloodline. At the top of all clans are the Whites: six vampires said to be the direct children of the very first vampire. Pureblood. Untouchable.
Then come the Royals—descendants of the Whites, but weaker. Their blood has been diluted by human or lesser vampire lines.
Below them, the Turned: humans who chose transformation, or were turned for power... or love. They serve their creators until their bonds are broken.
And lastly, the Slave Vamps. Vampires created purely for servitude. After ten years, they can choose: to become wild vampires, turn, or remain bound forever.
Xavier was never supposed to be any of them.
But now… he belonged to me.