Blood Oath: The Aurora Covenant Book One (Winspire Chronicles) Read online

  Blood Oath

  The Aurora Covenant: Book One

  Ophelia Deer

  Celestial Creations Publishing

  Copyright © 2022 by Ophelia Deer

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  Trigger Warnings

  Dedication

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  20. Chapter 20

  21. Chapter 21

  22. Chapter 22

  23. Chapter 23

  24. Chapter 24

  25. Chapter 25

  26. Chapter 26

  27. Chapter 27

  28. Chapter 28

  Before You Go

  Also By

  About Author

  There are a variety of adult scenes and content within this book. Please be aware as some of these scenes and themes may be distressing. There is slavery, coercive sex, violence, profanity, death, sex, gore, murder, and depictions of abuse.

  To Kate

  The best mentor and friend anyone could ask for

  1

  Harper

  Connor had a bad day at work. Harper could tell from the way he slammed the door when he came into the apartment that afternoon. The best policy was to keep quiet. The less she said, the fewer arguments they would have. She didn’t have anyone to talk to about any of this. Connor had cut her off from her family and friends a long time ago. He was the centre of her world; he demanded all of her attention. Standing in front of the stove, Harper was working on the meat for their dinner. His footsteps rang out as he stomped into the dining room behind her. She didn’t dare look up from her pan as he passed by. Letting out a frustrated sigh as he sat down. She knew this game that was the cue.

  “How was your day honey?” Harper asked without looking up from the frypan.

  “Same shit, different day. My boss has been on my ass all week,” he said in an irritated tone.

  “About your numbers?” Harper prodded as she continued to flip and turn the meat sizzling away in the pan.

  “My numbers?” Connor shot back in a low, deadly tone that promised violence.

  Shit. Harper had said the wrong thing, and she knew it. Turning to look at him, her body froze, locking each muscle, preparing for the strike that would come. She could see it in his eyes, the pure unbridled rage. Their relationship had started off innocently enough. He was charming and funny. After they started living together, things changed, leaving her wondering everyday if today would be the day he turned his fists on her.

  Connor stood from his chair and shoved it back with his legs, eyes narrowing in on Harper in the kitchen.

  “Don’t you ever fucking pay attention? There’s nothing wrong with my numbers. The problem is the lying fucking customers who sign up over the phone, then call back and cancel two days later,” he growled out as he strode into the kitchen and leered over Harper’s shoulder, scoffing at the food in the pan.

  “Chicken, again, don’t you know how to cook anything other than chicken?” Connor bit out, his voice rising as he stepped to the side and grabbed the panhandle from her.

  “Move it!” He told her as his hand roughly grabbed her hip, pushing her out of the way. Landing on the hard floor, pain shot up Harper’s backside. “What the hell did you do that for, you idiot! Look where you’re going”

  “I’m sorry,” Harper said quickly as she awkwardly got to her feet. Gently brushing off her backside. Apologizing was automatic these days. She didn’t even think before it came tumbling out of her mouth most of the time.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Connor grumbled as he took the pan over to the trash and tipped the contents in.

  “Do… Do you want me to make something else for dinner?” Harper asked tentatively, unsure of what exactly she could do to remove the tension from the situation.

  “I want to come home from work to my dinner already waiting for me. I want to eat something other than fucking chicken for once!” Connor shouted as he tossed the still-hot pan into the sink. A glass that had been sitting in there already shattered with the impact of the pan.

  Harper jumped and took a step back, keeping her eyes down. She knew there was nothing she could do at this point that would help.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, stiffening as he shoved past her and stomped down the hall to his study - slamming the door. Releasing the breath she had been holding, Harper quickly rushed about the kitchen, collecting all the glass fragments before preparing a grilled cheese sandwich. Slicing and serving it up onto a plate, she slowly made her way down the hall, making sure her steps weren’t too loud. Knocking twice on Connor’s study door, she hesitantly turned the knob and pushed it open.

  Connor was sitting at his computer desk, elbows on the table in front of him, with his hands holding fistfuls of his own hair.

  “Connor? I brought you a grilled cheese,” Harper said softly as she slowly walked over and placed the plate on the edge of his desk. Connor slammed his fists down onto the desk. The sudden noise and motion caused her to jump out of her skin as she scrambled back towards the door.

  “I said don’t worry about it,” he growled, not looking up at her as his knuckles went bone white.

  “I just thought...” Harper began tentatively, before Connor slammed his fists into his own forehead. Again, again, and again. Over and over, he pounded his hands against his skull. She quickly backed out of the room and shut the door behind her, but the sound of his pounding carried out into the hall as she walked away. There wasn’t anything she could do. He was the only one who worked at the moment since she got fired from her job, replacing her department with an offshore company that they paid half the price for. A fact that he liked to remind her of. He had so much to deal with at work and her; she was such a drain on him.

  The threats to kill himself started about six months ago. He had cut up the length of his arm one day after she had fallen asleep. She hadn’t even noticed till the next day, as he hadn’t cut into anything too vital or too deep. It had been deep enough to leave a scar. Every time he threatened to kill himself now, she believed it. She spent almost an hour in the shower, scolding her skin until she couldn’t take it any longer, sighing and turning off the water. Harper knew deep down she couldn’t run away from her problems forever. Drying off and changing back into her underwear and an old t-shirt, she quickly tiptoed to the bedroom door. Turning the knob gently and peeling open the door, careful not to make any noise as she poked her head out. She saw Connor passed out on the couch in the lounge room. With a resigned sigh, she closed the door again and made her way over to the bed. Slipping beneath the sheets, she pulled them up as high as she could stand and buried herself in them.

  Harper had tried to leave once before; his tears, begging and promises had brought her back. Things had changed for a week. Now she was afraid that if she left, it would be her fault when he killed himself. As she lay in bed, her mind racing that this was going to be the rest of her life, he
r eyes slowly drifted closed. Her thoughts slowed and her mind grew foggy as her body relaxed. A tear slipped down her cheek to join the countless other water stains on her pillowcase.

  2

  Nicholas

  Nicholas had selected his next victim. The decision was simple, after all these years picking out the type of people he enjoyed snuffing out from this world. He sat at a table outside a Starbucks in Sydney’s bustling CBD; he spotted the man shoving his way through a crowd of people. Gracefully standing from his table, Nicholas slipped into the crowd of people making their way down to the trains, following and gaining on him quickly. He radiated rage. This was exactly the type of person who Nicholas preferred.

  Racing to make the train, he jumped on board, quickly followed by Nicholas brushing past him with a mumbled apology. Nicholas had only needed a moment of contact to access the man’s memories, but it was there, exactly what he had suspected. His name was Connor, such a boring name. Men like Connor, angry at the world and their lives, often took out their rage on people who couldn’t defend themselves. Connor had a girlfriend, a terrified little thing who appeared to live her life on eggshells. Nicholas dived through Connor’s memories. He knew was he was looking for - violence. He found Connor had a habit of shoving her or slamming things into her. These memories were dripping with disgust and hatred. He was perfect.

  Nicholas had been alive for a long time now; he had refined his hunting practices over the years. His preferred practice was to find those people in society who were clearly better off being dead. The world would thank him one day. The guy made it far too easy for Nicholas. He kept a safe distance and walked a building or two further down the street until Connor finally turned into his apartment building lobby. He had waited until the early hours of the morning, spending his time organizing his next round of travel plans and transportation, before making his way upstairs to Connor’s apartment.

  3

  Harper

  Connor’s screams did not wake Harper. The light spilling across her body from the open bedroom door did not even wake her. It was something primal, something in her bones. Her body knew before her mind did that she was being watched by a predator. As Harper groaned and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a shadowy figure stepped into the doorway.

  “Connor?” Harper asked into the room, her voice as heavy with sleep as her eyes were.

  Pulling back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing softly as she sat up. She had fallen onto her ass harder than she originally thought. As she stood and faced the man before her, she realized her mistake. Wide-eyed, she took a hesitant step back, the back of her legs smacking into the bedside table. The man matched her and took another step into the room.

  “Y-you’re not Connor,” Harper stammered out.

  “Was that his name?” the intruder said with a soft chuckle, “You know I completely forgot to ask”

  Harper could tell she was missing some vital piece of information. The way he spoke about Connor in the past tense. Until her eyes drifted to the floor behind him and saw a bloody hand peeking out from behind the sofa. That was Connor’s hand, and it wasn’t moving. Cold slithering dread crept up her spine, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of the water as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The stranger seemed to take this as his cue, rushing forward so fast Harper didn’t even know what was happening until they pressed her against the wall. His hand wrapped around her throat was the only contact between them, tightening a fraction more than he took another step into her space.

  She dug her fingernails into the hand at her throat, but it was as if he couldn’t feel it at all. Fear choked her as thoroughly as he was, as she demanded around the pressure on her throat, “What do you want?”

  “Oh, would you look at that? You have some fight in you after all," the man laughed, releasing his grip on her just enough that she could breathe properly. The threat of harm still in the air as he kept his fingers resting around her neck.

  “What’s that supposed to mean!?” Harper shot back, this time trying to knee him in the gut. He easily avoided her attack, using the movement to slip his knee in between her legs.

  “Only that judging by the bruises he left on you, I thought you incapable of fighting back,” he told her with a mocking attempt at a sincere smile. Harper could only stare up at him, unable to form even a simple sentence to shoot back at him. She couldn’t understand how he knew about those bruises. She always worked so hard to keep them covered.

  “So tell me, kitten, which is it? Are you not as afraid of me as you are of him, or do you simply enjoy it? The pain I mean” he asked as he dragged his shockingly dark eyes from her face to peruse her body. His eyes were so dark, the pupil and his irises seemed to be the same.

  Even with just the light from the room beyond his gaze seared her skin. It was as if he could see every flaw. His free hand trailed up the side of her thigh, feather-light touch tracing around the edge of a large bruise. It was old, already fading from brown to yellow, but it was as if he could see it all the same. His touch sent goosebumps shooting across her skin. Harper’s panic was bubbling up in her chest as her mind fought against the fear. Just do something, anything. Move, you fucking idiot. Kick him again. Anything. He’s going to hurt you, and it’s going to be your own stupid fault.

  Finding at least some fraction of courage, Harper glared up at this man, this murderer, and spat out, “That’s none of your business. Get your hands off of me!” She tried once again to leave deep scratches on his hands with her fingernails, but her attempt at hurting him only seemed to make him squeeze tighter. A pathetic little whimper came from her as she slammed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to find that courage again inside of her and some more air.

  “Now, now, is that any way to behave?” he chuckled, stepping in even closer to her. She could smell his cologne at this distance, something rich and earthy. Harper’s breaths were coming in small pants and gasps now as her thoughts spun out of control. He’s going to fucking kill me. I’m going to die here.

  “What do you want?” she wheezed around whatever pathetic gulps of air she could get, looking up into his face and meeting his amused gaze. Even in the dim light, she could tell he was the man who would normally make your heart stop with a smile. Perhaps that’s how he gets away with his crimes, she thought, his good looks. She immediately regretted looking at him more carefully as she realised, to her horror, there was blood smeared across the lower half of his face. Her eyes widened as he grinned down at her, proudly showing off his wickedly sharp fangs. Relaxing the grip on her throat once more, seemingly convinced she was sufficiently terrified and wouldn't try anything. This man. This stranger before her was a vampire. A real fucking vampire.

  “That’s impossible. There’s no way…” Harper stammered out, her eyes fixed on those unnatural incisors.

  “Oh, but it is kitten. I’m tiring of this little game and I’m still starving, so if you don’t mind, I think I will kill you now,” he told her in an almost bored voice as he leaned in, shifting his hold from her throat to her shoulder.

  “W-Wait wait! You don’t have to do that!” Harper blurted out, her mind running a million miles an hour as she tried to find a way out of this with her heart still beating.

  “Mmmm? And why not?” he said, his mouth mere inches from her neck. The warmth of his breath sent chills across her skin. She could hear the amusement in his voice as if this was all a game of cat and mouse and he was the cat playing with his dinner.

  “Vampires don’t need to kill in order to feed, right? I’ve seen enough movies and shows. Killing is just what happens when you take too much. Th-then you have to deal with the aftermath…”

  “Get to the point soon or you will be dead,” he said, his voice almost sing-song as he ran a finger along the side of her neck.

  “I-I just mean why not have someone w-who willingly gives you blood frequently in smaller amounts, rather than having to kill and de
al with the hassle?” Harper rambled.

  He paused, pulling back from her to look at her face properly. Staring down at her with a mix of shock and confusion. She knew she had to look like a deer caught in headlights with her wide eyes.

  “Are you offering yourself to me?”

  “Yes,” Harper breathed out. If she gave herself a chance to think about the implications, she may just die of a panic attack.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” he asked her, removing his hands from her and taking a step back so there was now at least some space between them.

  “Because I want to live,” she continued. The raw honesty in her answer shocked her a little as well. After everything she had been through with Connor, she had thought she didn’t care whether she lived or died. However, now she faced it, Harper knew she did.

  The man shook his head and laughed, actually laughed at her before saying, “I would hardly consider being a walking, talking blood bag living”

  “As long as I get to see tomorrow, I don’t really care”

  “Careful,” he started, all traces of amusement gone from his face, “Be very careful with what you say and what you offer. If you do this, if you offer yourself to me as a willing donor, you will be a servant. You will live and breathe to serve me and my desires. Is that truly what you want?”

  Harper paused for a moment, taking in his words and thinking about it. I can take the pain. It can’t be any worse than this, then with Connor. But there was something else in his words the caught her attention.

  “Do… do you expect me to do more than just feed you?” she asked cautiously, hoping she had just misheard him.

  “You will serve me in whatever way I see fit. Be it your blood, your time, your skills, or… your body” he took his time with the last part, letting his eyes trail over her again. The wide hips and thick thighs Connor had told her were from sitting on her ass all day, the slight bulge of her stomach, the swell of her breasts. It was as if he could see them all, even through the few pieces of clothing she was wearing.