The Vampire Court (Shadow World: The Vampire Debt Book 3)

by Ali Winters

  Praise for The Vampire Debt

  “A dark and dangerous twist from a timeless classic that will keep you flipping pages and leave you wanting more!”

  CAMEO RENAE, USA Today Bestselling Author

  “A dark retelling with a provocative twist that lures you into its pages.”

  NATALIA JASTER, author of the Selfish Myths series

  “I am completely, utterly, and absolutely obsessed!”

  LEXXY VORPAHL, paranormal romance author

  “This book is amazing… I was seriously BLOWN AWAY.”

  MICHELLE G., goodreads reviewer

  “Conflict, twists and turns and a story that makes you root for the characters yet relate to their flaws at the same time.”

  TRISH BENINATO, fantasy author

  “[The Vampire Debt] is my ****ing favorite. Everything about this book is brilliant.”

  KITTY GALLANT, romance author

  “Ms. Winters took my breath away!!! This is going to steal away your heart and mind as well!! These characters are delicious and will tug upon your heartstrings!”

  MICHELLE F., goodreads reviewer

  “Sink your teeth into this blood-pumping story of love, loss, and redemption. You won’t be disappointed.”

  JESIKAH SUNDIN, author of the Biodome chronicles

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Continue the series..

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Ali Winters

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020, Ali Winters

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

  Published by Rising Flame Press

  Edited by Nicole Zoltack

  Cover design & Formatting by Red Umbrella Graphic Designs

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  www.aliwinters.com

  www.thevampiredebt.com

  For Schmuckles,

  Thanks, kid.

  Chapter One

  Clara

  “Bite me.” The words crack in my throat, coming out louder than intended and breaking the silence that settled between us over the past several hours. Cherno startles awake from his perch on the back of the bench and flops down on the seat at Alaric’s side.

  He lets the curtain covering the carriage window slide from his fingers and leans back to look at me.

  “Clara?” he asks, raising a single dark brow.

  “Bite me,” I say again, my voice normal this time.

  Alaric’s gaze lowers to my hands in my lap. I force my fingers to release my skirt, allowing the blood to flow back into my whitened knuckles, but he’s already seen the way I clutched the material until my fingers ached.

  Cherno crawls to the corner of the bench seat and curls up in a bat-shaped ball, wrapping a leathery wing over their head, blocking us out.

  Alaric blows out a soft breath then says, “No.”

  I blink, my lips parting. Then I snap my mouth shut. Did he really deny me the final mark—this man who wanted me to accept it for my safety?

  “Why in the Otherworld not?” I demand. “You said it was up to me to ask for each mark.” I press my hands to my chest. “I am asking for the final one now.”

  Alaric cants his head then runs a hand through the dark strands, messing them in a way that’s all the more fitting to his handsome features.

  “Clara, you are only asking because you are nervous. I would rather you didn’t bind yourself to me over something so… trivial and temporary.” His lip curls as if the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

  I clench my jaw and temper my irritation. “Temporary? I’ll die without it.” My chest feels tight, my tongue heavy and dry. “You said it was my choice,” I whisper.

  He frowns and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees then reaches out to take one of my hands in his. “My dear, Clara, it is your choice. It will always be your choice.” Alaric dips his head and blows out a breath before raising his eyes to meet mine again. “But not like this.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.

  “Victor compelled you, and that is the only reason why Cassius, Della, and Lawrence found out that you were not marked,” he adds as if knowing what I was about to say.

  I bite down on my bottom lip.

  Alaric brushes his knuckles across my cheek. The glove encasing his hand is soft against my skin. “No one will dare attempt anything of the sort at Nightwich. Not to you.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I am baffled by his confidence. It happened in his territory, and now, we are heading to new ground where the rules will undoubtedly be different.

  He’s silent for a long moment, but in the end, he only says, “I just am.”

  I pull my hand from his grasp and sit back. “And what if the other three say something? It’s not like you can watch them every second to make sure they keep quiet.”

  Alaric’s gaze darkens. “They won’t—not if they wish to continue living.” The promise of violence is in his voice, and brutality etches the sharp edges of his features. He lifts his chin a fraction, relaxing back against his seat, completely and utterly confident. “I ordered them not to.”

  Demons and saints… He ordered them? What kind of assurance is that? I hold back further argument. He’s right. I am nervous, but his reasoning is hardly comforting. He believes his order will carry weight even when I’d been attacked in his home.

  Shifting in my seat, I work over his words again and again, trying to decipher his meaning. Is it possible for vampires to compel each other?

  “Besides,” he says quietly, his voice thick and dark, “the carriage is far from the ideal place to mark you for the last time.” His gaze pins me to the spot, chasing every other thought away until I forget them all. Until the only thing left is the heat in his eyes and the unspoken words—the ones that promise things to come after the bite and the promise he had made after the second mark. “Next time, my dear, Clara, I will take my time with you.”

  My skin heats at the memory and the way his words still have the power to illicit warmth low in my belly.

  “And then there’s the fact that we both know you would regret it afterward.” His voice brings me crashing back to the present, though if
he notices the obvious reactions to my thoughts, he doesn’t let on. Alaric’s expression softens. “You don’t want the final mark. We both know that. It’s okay to be nervous about what’s to come, but don’t let the possibility of what may be give you the illusion that you no longer have a choice.”

  I open my mouth to protest and say that I do want the mark, but I clamp it shut, pressing my lips into a thin line when I realize he’s right. I don’t want the mark. I’m not ready, at least… not yet.

  We sit in silence for the next several hours. The wheels of the carriage bounce over the bumps and grooves in the road, making my already aching posterior more uncomfortable, but eventually, even that can’t keep me awake. The thin gilding of light that edges the curtains fades, and the rocking of the carriage urges me to rest. A yawn forces its way from me.

  Alaric holds out a white-gloved hand. I take it and maneuver to sit next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. He tucks me into his side, wrapping an arm around me, and entwines our fingers.

  “Rest,” he says. “We still have several more hours before we arrive.”

  I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. Already nearly asleep, I feel Cherno’s small feet as the demon clambers into my lap and settles into the crook of my arm.

  “Wake up, Clara.” Alaric’s deep voice whispers near my ear.

  I sit up, blinking blearily, and stretch out as much as I can in the cramped space. On one side of the carriage, the curtains have been drawn back, allowing the rosy glow of dawn to enter. I lean across Alaric and take in the view.

  After three days and three nights, there is finally more to see than distant mountains, vast expanses of fields, and groups of trees too small to be considered forests.

  Mountains rear up alongside the road, stretching for as far as the eye can see. Built into the side is a castle, larger than any I could have ever imagined. Surrounding the castle is a town that must be at least five times the size of Littlemire and Durford combined.

  I’d expected a dark, haunted castle with broken spires, but this one gleams as though it were made of polished, white marble trimmed with gold.

  The carriage slows as we enter the edge of town to avoid tramping the people going about their business. Humans. I shouldn’t be surprised. It makes sense that the vampires at the castle would need a vast human population to sustain them throughout the year after the claiming.

  We pull through the gates of town and continue down the short road leading to the castle. We come to a stop at the edge of a moat. A bridge lowers with a heavy thud, and the carriage jerks forward once more. I lean forward, pressing my face closer to the glass window and gulp.

  Unholy demon shit. That is not a moat, but a vast chasm that nearly reaches into the Otherworld itself. Massive stone spikes rise from below, jutting up like jagged and razor-sharp teeth.

  The depth sends a wave of vertigo through me, and I drop back down to my seat. Alaric gives me a knowing look but says nothing. Outward, he is the picture of calm except for the tell-tale twitch of muscle along his jaw.

  He pulls the curtain closed again. Tension builds in the air, nearly crackling like a lightning storm. It’s a few more minutes before we come to another stop. From the way Alaric scoots forward, I know this is our destination.

  We have arrived at Nightwich.

  My stomach bottoms out, and I’m not sure if I will be able to get out of this carriage by my own ability.

  The door opens, letting in a chilly blast of winter air. I shiver, telling myself that it’s from the cold and not because I am about to walk into a castle filled with vampires.

  The footman steps aside, his gaze facing forward as he holds the door open. His uniform is crisp. Red threads glint in the morning light against the black cloth, contrasting with the castle’s bright exterior.

  Alaric climbs out first then turns and offers me a hand. I take it, holding a little too tight as I step down beside him.

  “Your luggage will be brought to your respective rooms immediately,” the footman says.

  Alaric’s head whips around to face him. “You will bring her things to my rooms. She is to stay with me.”

  “Of course, Sire,” the footman says with a bow. He closes the door and walks to the back of the carriage.

  I stare after him. Something about the few words he spoke snag in my mind like a splintering piece of wood.

  “Come, my dear, Clara,” Alaric says, guiding me with a hand at the small of my back. His eyes never leave the castle until the second we are inside. Something akin to dread hardens his expression.

  We pass through the antechamber. The walls are a dull, pale stone, but paintings, statues, and expertly placed fabric bring a touch of color. Alaric hurries us through the halls, without a second’s hesitation. He knows exactly where he’s going. After a few turns, we end up in a cramped corridor lacking any decor. These must be the servants’ passages, though I’m not sure why we are taking them.

  The soft beating of Cherno’s wings against the air trails behind us.

  A woman clears her throat behind us, stopping us in our tracks. Alaric’s fingers flex against my back. Taking my hand in his, he turns, partially hiding me with his body.

  I list my head to the side and look past his shoulder to the woman dressed in a soldier’s uniform. The gold metal of her spaulders and bracers is polished impeccably and set against the dark black of her clothes.

  “Her majesty requests your presence in the throne room,” she says.

  Alaric’s hand tightens slightly over mine. “We will come as soon as we have settled.”

  The guard frowns then says, “The queen has requested your presence the moment you arrived, not a minute later.”

  Alaric is silent for several beats then gives her a curt nod. “Very well.”

  The guard spins on her heel and walks back the way we came.

  Alaric lifts a hand and motions to Cherno. The demon bat nods their head then flutters off down the hall in the direction we were headed in. I briefly wonder if sending his demon away is a good or bad sign.

  He turns to me with worry written across his face. “Are you ready?”

  I nod. Then together, we follow the guard back down the hall toward the throne room where the queen awaits.

  Chapter Two

  Clara

  “I will inform the queen that you have arrived.” The guard turns to me and narrows her eyes. There’s a distinct curl to her upper lip as she says, “She will be taken to the human quarters—”

  Alaric bares his fangs. “She stays with me.”

  The guard bristles. I’m surprised when she doesn’t object further but instead dips her chin and strides through a side door nearly hidden in the shadows of the corner.

  Before us is a stone archway over two massive doors that narrow to a point at the top. The sun-bleached wood is gilded along the edges and embossed with the crescent moon with a feather cutting down through the center.

  I swipe my clammy palms down over the hips, hoping the gesture isn’t noticeable. We are alone, yet I can’t shake the feeling that hundreds of eyes are watching us.

  “It’s about time the two of you arrived,” Cassius’s voice booms, sounding too loud for the previously quiet space.

  Lawrence walks a half step behind him. I can’t help but notice that Della is not with them.

  Alaric says nothing as the two men join us, but he squeezes my hand reassuringly before letting go.

  The two vampires turn toward me in unison. Their stony expressions only reinforce the fact that I should not be here.

  What protocol is he breaking to keep me by his side?

  I reach for Alaric to question him, but before my hand is halfway to his arm, one of the ornate doors swing open. The room is crowded. Men and women are dressed in elegant suits and gowns. All heads turn toward us, and I am left feeling more than underdressed for the occasion.

  Then, as if by some unseen cue, the crowd parts down the center, revealing the vampire qu
een upon her throne.

  A white dress accented with obsidian beading hugs her body. Her honey-blonde hair cascades down her back loose, and upon her head sits a bone-white crown with thick points jutting up. Rubies decorate the tips and along the base.

  A man leans closer to her and whispers something in her ear. The queen throws her head back and laughs, her voice carrying throughout the room. She is slight and delicate like Kitty, but that is where the similarities end. She holds a power that seems to radiate off her in waves. Where my sister is soft and warm, she is harsh and cold. Her eyes cut through the room toward our small group. Even from this distance I can feel the scrutiny of her gaze like sharp claws tracing every vein over my skin.

  A large raven sits on the high back of her throne. Their red eyes are so bright they throw off a soft glow within the brightly lit room. Even her demon has a presence.

  Alaric strides forward, and I move to follow, but a hand grabs my wrist and holds me back. I tug on my arm, and when I’m not freed, I turn to glare at the vampire holding me.

  “Stay with us,” Lawrence says. He slowly pries his fingers off my upper arm, dropping his hand when I remain where I am.