Filed to story: Two Vampire Brides (Vera & Lucien) Book PDF Free
“You’re flailing,” he said, voice sharp now. “You’re fighting your emotions, not your opponent.”
I clenched my fists, chest heaving. “Then let’s fix that.”
He tilted his head. “Oh?”
“I challenge you.”
He blinked once. “You what?”
“You said I’m weak. So prove it. If I can get your sword to the ground, just once, you back off. Admit I can hold my own.”
He looked amused. “And if you fail?”
“I won’t.”
“That’s a bold lie,” he said, stepping closer. “Fine. You want a real match? You’ll get one. But I’m not pulling punches.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.”
He sheathed his training blade, drew the real one. I did the same.
His stance shifted.
We circled in silence, our eyes meeting with precision.
He struck first, clean and fast. I blocked, barely. My wrist already screamed.
I countered, low and diagonal, but he deflected easily and swept my legs. I rolled, came up, swung again, closer this time.
“You hesitate,” he said mid-strike.
“I aim.”
He pushed me back with a flurry of strikes. My arms burned. My legs felt like they’d snap under me.
Still, I didn’t stop.
“Keep going,” he ordered. “Or drop it again.”
I gritted my teeth. “Not this time.”
Sweat ran into my eyes. My grip loosened. My blade dropped for just half a second.
He smirked. “Tired?”
I exhaled through clenched teeth. “Reminding me of it won’t stop me.”
He lunged.
I ducked under his swing and rolled to the side. My blade flashed up. He blocked, barely. His elbow grazed my collarbone. Pain bloomed, but I twisted, using the moment.
I dropped low and swept my sword across his hand. A clean arc. His blade flew from his grip and hit the ground with a clatter.
Silence. I stood there, chest heaving, face flushed, my sword shaking in my hand.
His expression didn’t change.
I raised my chin. “That enough proof for you?”
A beat. Then he sighed, shaking his head.
“That was sheer luck.”
I grinned, breathless. “Still counts.”
He bent to retrieve his sword and straightened. “We begin again. Now.”
VERA’S POV
The sparring session with Caelen wasn’t for another hour, and I needed to get out of my head before he started pointing out every one of my flaws with that smug tone he thought was helpful.
The royal library was quiet-too quiet.
I wandered past shelves of territorial agreements, blood magic theory, ancient coven records… I wasn’t looking for anything specific, until I saw it.
A leather-bound book, worn at the edges, tucked between two volumes of dusty war records. The name etched on the cover in faded silver stopped me cold.
Mara Nightshade.
My mother.
My hand trembled as I reached for it. No one had ever told me there was a journal of hers. Not in all the stories. Not from my father. Not even from the High Seer.
I opened it slowly, reverently. The scent of aged paper and night-blooming jasmine drifted up. Her handwriting was delicate but precise. Familiar in a way I couldn’t explain.
Day 42. The power is changing again. I felt it in my veins last night, like the ancestors were whispering through my blood. The stronger it gets, the more I feel pulled. I’ve tried to tell Aldric, but he insists I keep it hidden. If they knew I was drawing from the Blood, the old magic, they’d brand me a traitor.
I blinked, rereading it.
The Blood.
I turned another page.
They told us it was forbidden. But how can something forbidden feel like home? I can see things when I let go-visions, shapes, voices not of this time. My vampire nature responds to it, not in fear but in hunger. It’s like she knows this magic was once ours.
My hands gripped the pages tighter.
I wasn’t breathing-a habit I still maintained despite not needing to.
If anything happens to me, I hope Vera inherits this strength. I hope she’s not afraid of it. I hope she’s not lied to, the way I was.
Something sharp burned behind my eyes. I flipped another page, and suddenly everything blurred.
The library faded.
And then I heard a whisper.
Blood calls to blood.
I staggered backward, dropping the book to the table with a thud. My head spun. Visions flickered behind my eyes, flashes of unfamiliar vampires, women in ancient garb chanting under blood moons, a river of crimson light flowing through shadowed forests.
And then silence.
“What the hell is this?” I whispered, clutching the table edge.
No one told me about this.
No one warned me I might be connected to something older, deeper, dangerous.
I needed answers.
I stormed through the corridor leading to the royal war chamber, clutching the journal to my chest.
Two guards at the door stiffened as I approached.
“The King is in a meeting,” one said.
“I need to see him.”
“He gave strict instructions-“
I narrowed my eyes, letting just a hint of power bleed through. “I’m his daughter. Let me in.”
The hesitation was brief. Then the doors creaked open.
I stepped inside and froze.
“…She’s not ready,” a councilman was saying. “Even Caelen admits it.”
Silence followed.
My stomach dropped.
“She’s powerful, yes, but that alone doesn’t make her fit to rule,” the voice continued. “If your own chosen advisor questions her capacity, perhaps it’s time to reconsider her appointment.”
I couldn’t move.