Blood Debt: A Reverse Harem Vampire Romance (Kingdom of Blood Book 1)

by Callie Rose

  “It’s James,” she admits thickly. “He’s been claiming me every night, and it hurts so bad every single time. Sometimes he forgets to clean up after, and then I have to walk around like a leaky faucet until someone else takes pity on me and closes me up. I can’t…” She shakes her head fiercely. “I cannot live with the idea of being bonded to that. Of wanting it in spite of myself. Of seeking out his rough handling.”

  She sniffles, her voice growing angrier and more panicked with every syllable. “And what then? Vampires don’t touch each other’s bonded tributes, it’s against the bro code or something. Once I’m bonded, that’s it. If he leaves me open, he leaves me open, period. No one else will even be able to help me then, and I’ll bleed out unless he decides to save me.”

  A hanger snaps in my fist as my jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache.

  Motherfucker. I want to kill him. I could go find him right now. It wouldn’t be hard. Even the other vampires keep an eye on where he is in order to avoid him—that’s how big of a fucking dick he is. Would any of them even care if I shoved a chair leg through his shriveled little heart? No, no they wouldn’t. The only thing stopping me is that if I kill one of them, they’ll be forced to take me out for the safety of the nest.

  But it’d almost be worth it anyway. He’s the embodiment of the terror I was expecting when they brought me down here, not to mention the pain. Jessica doesn’t deserve that. Nobody does—except maybe Winona—but especially not Jessica. She’s here on an angel’s errand, dammit.

  “It’s so fucked up,” I growl at the closet. “This whole setup is fucked. They all need to—”

  Fuck.

  I bite my tongue in the nick of time. Even Jessica doesn’t know who I really am or why I’m really here, and I need to keep it that way.

  “Need to what?” she asks, her voice muffled by her hands.

  I grind my teeth. Nothing fits better than “die,” but I can’t utter those words, even to my best friend in this place. I take a deep breath, groping around for something to say.

  “Remember,” I finish blandly. “They need to remember what it’s like to be human.”

  Some of them do. Connor does. Bastian seems to, which surprised the hell out of me, especially given how old he told me he is. Rome feels human—superhuman, even.

  Thinking about the three of them acts like fire retardant on my fury, which is frustrating. I can see my mission so clearly when I think about James, but as soon as one of those three pop into my head, everything seems a lot muddier. I can tell myself it’s lust or magic or hypnotism or whatever, but the truth is that they just don’t feel like thugs or villains. They don’t seem very closely related to the vampires I’ve killed in the street.

  “Wouldn’t that be nice.” Jessica snorts. “But somehow I don’t think James was a good person when he was human either. He seems more like the type to spend his mama’s tax return on drugs and steal video games from ten-year-olds while beating up on his pregnant teenage girlfriend.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Specific,” I say mildly.

  She shrugs, looking sheepish. “He reminds me of my cousin’s ex-boyfriend. Like, a lot.”

  “Gross.”

  “Right?” She shakes her head and sighs. “You think if I pretend I’m sick, I won’t have to go to dinner?”

  I shake my head. “I think if you pretend you’re sick, they’ll get a doctor in here and make sure you aren’t infecting the rest of the herd.”

  She makes a face. “You’re probably right. Ugh.” She shudders and goes quiet for a while, chewing on her lip. Then she glances at me again, her large eyes sad. “Did you ever think you would end up like this? Corralled like a cow, competing to see who’s going to be sticking their fork in your flank for the rest of your life?”

  I shake my head. “Never crossed my mind until it happened.”

  “You know the worst part?” she asks, her voice very quiet.

  “What?”

  Tears fill her eyes. She looks—ashamed? That can’t be right. She has nothing to be ashamed of.

  Jessica swallows hard and moistens her lips. “It’s already starting,” she murmurs. “The more he feeds on me, the less I hate it. It hurts like a bitch every single time, but at least I know it’s going to be over soon. When he takes a while to get to me, I find myself looking for him. I don’t want that. I never wanted to be that girl.”

  Fat tears roll down her cheeks, and my chest constricts. I cross over to the bed, sitting down and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  “Hey, it’s not you,” I tell her earnestly. “It’s something about the bite. I don’t know why James’s bites don’t come with that endorphin rush—I think it’s because he attacks rather than kisses—but still, there’s some kind of magic that goes into it. They want you to get attached, Jess. It’s not your fault that a magic older than civilization works on you. It’s just evolution.”

  I don’t know if any of that is true, honestly. It could just be Stockholm Syndrome for all I know. If it is, I’ve got it too.

  “It’s affecting me too,” I say to her. “I can’t get through the salad course without looking for Connor or Rome or Bastian.”

  She snorts and pulls away from me, giving me a look. “If you were anybody else, I’d accuse you of humble bragging.”

  I grin. “Hell, if you were anybody else, you’d be accusing me of humble bragging. If I was looking for other friends here, I’d be shit outta luck.”

  She laughs, but the sound trails into a sympathetic noise, because it’s true. My getting consistent attention from those three has not endeared me to anybody—least of all Winona, who is just as focused on ruling over the other tributes as she is on snagging a member of the vampire court. I’ve never met anyone as power hungry as she is.

  “Well, at least none of them are brutal,” she says with a sigh. “Not to the tributes, anyway. James is a monster.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, anger rushing through me again. I don’t let it show on my face though, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Hey—how about a headache to get out of dinner?”

  In the end, she decides to try for a migraine. There’s nothing infectious about those, and girls seem to come down with them a lot. Probably something to do with losing blood all the damn time, but I’m not a doctor.

  Anastasyia lets her stay in bed and promises to cover for her if anyone asks about her. The vampire matron is actually one of the few people here who treats us as more than meat. She’s a lot kinder than I would’ve expected. I sort of want to know her story, but I also know that I need to stop learning more about the people I’m running away from. I can already feel the hangover from the amount of whiskey I’ll need to drown out the survivor’s guilt.

  Speaking of survivors, the male tributes are on time for dinner for once. As usual, I sneak a quick glance at my brother to check in on him as we all file into the great hall, and my brows furrow when I catch sight of him.

  Nathan is trailing behind the group by several yards. Every movement is stiff and slow, as if he aged fifty years since I last saw him. It reminds me of the time he got his ass kicked by a bunch of teenage BloodGods—he never did tell me why, but it’s not a huge mystery. A bigger mystery is why he’s walking around looking like that now, when he’s supposed to be under the vampires’ dubious protection.

  I’m at the back of the group of female tributes too, so it isn’t hard to drift back a little farther to intercept Nathan. He doesn’t even seem to see me until I touch his wrist, then he jumps like he’s been shocked.

  “Hey. What’s the matter with you?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

  He inhales sharply, hissing through his teeth. He’s pale, skinnier than he was last week, his eyes dull over dark circles. He’s still shaking, even though he clearly knows it’s me now. A sharp twist of worry sets all of my senses on edge. Dammit, I should have been keeping a closer eye on him. The little check-ins I try to do clearly haven’t been enough.

  “It’s… it’s Althe
a and Maureen,” he says, his voice a dry, harsh whisper. “They’ve got a pissing contest going. I’m the prize.”

  He gives me a wan smile, showing me his sunken, withdrawn gum line. My stomach bottoms out. Fucking hell. They’re sucking the life out of him.

  “Show me who they are,” I growl. “I’ll kill them right now. Fuck this.”

  I start for the door, but Nathan grabs me before I can go more than two steps. Even his grasp is weak, dammit. “Mikka, stop. You can’t kill them, the rest of them will eat you alive. You know that. You have a plan, remember? Play the long game. Attacking now is stupid. You’re not stupid.”

  I whirl around, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’m not going to just sit here and let them kill you by inches, Nathan.”

  “Then don’t.” He shrugs tiredly. All the fight has gone out of him just like that, and the sight of his listless expression makes rage boil in my veins. “But don’t be stupid. Okay?”

  I don’t want to agree, but if we stay out whispering in the corridor any longer, someone’s going to come looking for us.

  “Okay,” I say flatly. “But you better promise to come straight to me if you need help. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you, Mimi,” he murmurs, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I promise.”

  “Good.”

  “Now—dinner time.” He gives me a firm look, then walks away from me, shuffling like an old man.

  Fire crackles in my soul, but I follow him into the dining room.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if I see those two bitches crawling over him tonight. The fury churning inside me doesn’t care much about subtle plans.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I can’t eat. I can’t even pretend to eat.

  All of my attention is on Nathan, who’s shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible. I know why—the female vampires aren’t exactly hiding their intentions. I see them eyeing one another from across the room, one on either side of Nathan. One’s a tall blonde, her trim figure built out like a tennis player. The other one is a few inches shorter, round at hip and breast, an olive-skinned girl with dark curls down to her ass and long purple nails filed into points.

  They barely let him finish his first course before they start surreptitiously moving toward him. They act like they’re mingling, play at being distracted by conversation, but every move they make is toward Nathan. The brunette gets to him first, petting him with those long nails absently while she carries on a conversation with another vampire.

  Nathan tenses, then slowly relaxes as she keeps petting him. She’s just marking her territory—for now. I glance around, looking for the blonde. She’s watching Nathan too, her eyes slitted with territorial fury as she moves closer to him. The brunette sees her and grins, then tips Nathan’s chin up to kiss her. He does, but I see his shoulders go rigid again. He knows what’s coming.

  A second later, it happens. The brunette bites him, drinking deeply. Too deeply. Rather than embrace her, as most tributes find themselves doing when bitten by a skilled vamp, his hands just go limp. Rage stiffens my spine. The blonde is moving like a jungle cat now, stalking him from across the room, waiting for her moment.

  “Would you care to dance, my lady?”

  Connor’s voice barely breaks through my focus, and I jerk my head up to look at him. His crooked smile and sunshine eyes don’t have the calming effect on me they usually do. Nothing could unwind the knot of tension in my gut right now.

  I want to wave him off impatiently so I can keep watching Nathan, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well. Even if he doesn’t take offense to it—which, knowing Connor, he probably wouldn’t—I know other vampires are waiting for their chance to get to me. So I lift my hand for him, meeting his eyes briefly. I think I smile at him, but honestly, I’m not sure.

  We move to the dance floor. He’s chatting away about something as usual in his deep, warm voice, but I’m not paying attention. I make the right noises at the right places, I think, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Not a single word makes it past my inner ear.

  The brunette vampiress finishes and keeps a possessive hand on Nathan’s shoulder. I’m sure all of the attention would be flattering, if she wasn’t about to kill him. Nathan looks miserable. He shouldn’t look so unhappy right after being fed from. If she was pouring sensuality into her kiss, it should have triggered that feeling of ecstasy that I’m way too familiar with by now—but if he’s too drained, maybe it doesn’t matter. Blood magic doesn’t work without blood.

  The brunette waves at someone across the room. As soon as her hand is off Nathan, the blonde is on his lap. Jesus, she’s fast. I didn’t even see her move. She takes the other side of his neck. There’s a gray hue to his skin now, and a damp sheen across his forehead.

  “Hey.” Connor’s voice is gentle, and it breaks through the rushing sound that fills my ears. “You’ve stepped on my foot like four times.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  Dammit, where did the brunette go?

  There she is, not more than a dozen steps away from Nathan. She’s glaring at the blonde, but her mouth is smiling as she chatters away with whoever she’s talking to. Is she going to go back in again once blondie finishes up? They really will fucking kill him.

  “Oh it’s fine, nothing an amputation won’t fix.”

  “Good,” I say absently.

  The blonde has stopped, but I still can’t breathe. She’s grinning over my brother’s shoulder at the brunette. Nathan’s forehead is on her shoulder, but I don’t think it’s a sexual gesture. His whole posture is limp. He might just not have the strength to raise his head.

  “Yes, it is good. I’ve always wanted a prosthetic. I’m thinking a flamingo foot. Or a peg leg, like a pirate, as long as I can paint it pink. What do you think?”

  “Mm-hm, sounds good.”

  Dammit, the brunette is working her way back. If she feeds from him again, he’s not going to walk out of here. Doesn’t anybody pay attention to these things? Aren’t there rules for overfeeding? There should be, but somehow, I’m not surprised that there aren’t.

  “Okay, that’s it.” Connor pulls me to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. I crane my neck to keep looking toward Nathan, but he touches my face, pulling my gaze to him. “What’s wrong?”

  I blink at him a few times, but my mind is blank. I don’t know what to say, or how to play off my obvious distress and distraction. Would he even care that a male tribute is in danger? Would he get jealous?

  No, Connor isn’t the person to talk to about this. It’s not that I don’t think he would care, since he’s one of the most empathetic people I’ve ever met. But he’s too new and too nice. No one will listen to him. He doesn’t have enough power in the vampire hierarchy yet.

  “I need a second,” I tell him. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he murmurs, but his brow is furrowed with worry. I kiss his cheek and leave him on the dance floor.

  He doesn’t follow me, but I can feel his eyes on me. I’m breaking a whole lot of psycho-social rules right now, and I know it, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I scan the great hall, chewing on my bottom lip as my heart races.

  Rome isn’t hard to find. As usual, he’s standing to one side of the large room, watching vampires go about their business with stern eyes.

  Blood tributes aren’t really supposed to approach vampires uninvited. I’ve seen girls get slapped, scolded, and snubbed for doing just that. The snubbing was the worst, from a social hierarchy perspective. Girls who were snubbed didn’t get chosen again, by anybody, for days at least.

  But this is Rome. From everything I’ve seen, he’s not exactly a stickler for those kinds of rules.

  He sees me coming and focuses on me, eyes and body attuning to me. He’s studying my face and opening his tense posture, his body language an invitation, so I keep walking toward him, praying that I’m right and that he won’t shoot me down for approaching h
im uninvited.

  “Can we speak privately?” I ask quietly as I come within earshot.

  He nods and offers me his elbow. It’s a more natural movement for him than it is for Connor, which makes me wonder, briefly, just how old Rome is. I don’t bother asking though. It’s not what’s important right now.

  As soon as we’re out in the corridor, I let go of his arm and turn to face him. “Did you mean it when you told me I should come to you if there are any vampires being abusive?”

  He tenses, his eyes flashing with murderous intent. “Who hurt you?”

  I shake my head. “Not me. It’s a couple of others. Nathan—that tall, skinny tribute with the prison tattoos down his left side—is being drunk from too often. Althea and Maureen are draining him dry fighting over him. He’s not going to last another day if they don’t back off. And Jessica… you’ve met her, right?”

  “I have.”

  “She’s James’s favorite, and he’s not being careful with her. When he’s done with her, he leaves her to bleed until she can find someone else to put her back together. If he chooses her to bond with, he’ll kill her.”

  Rome’s expression is closed-off, unreadable. He’s not the most expressive vampire in the world to begin with, but there’s some kind of tension behind his eyes that I can’t figure out. I need him to hear me, but I don’t know what to say that I haven’t already said. Does he need to be convinced that they’re worth it?

  I open my mouth to speak, but he speaks first.

  “Why do you care so much about the others?” he asks, his voice tight.

  I didn’t expect that question, and can’t quite mitigate my reaction. “What? Because… because they’re people! They’re my fellow tributes. Fellow humans. I’d do the same for any of them.”

  Even Winona, although it pains me a little to admit it to myself.

  Rome’s expression softens. I’m not sure how he was expecting me to answer that question, but his response to the answer I gave surprises me.