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 One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
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 Schwartz Fiction Edits and Magnolia Author Services
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 Krys
Chapter One
Alaric
“Shall we go meet our guests?” Lawrence says, striding toward the door. Any lingering emotion over my refusal to mark Clara has vanished from his demeanor.
I clench my fists at my sides. The empty glass in my hand shatters and the shards fall to the floor at my feet, crunching underfoot as I turn.
I don’t even feel the sting of cuts along my palm, though they are healed before I’m halfway across the room.
From their perch on the mantle of the fireplace, Cherno lifts their small head and cocks it to the side in silent question. I jerk my chin in the direction of Clara’s room in answer, then I am out of the office and at the front door of the manor two seconds later, with Lawrence following at my heels.
Mr. Steward waits by the door for me to give him orders. Usually, he would greet any visitors and bring them into the drawing room to await my arrival. Tonight, I dismiss him. I’d rather not have these visitors get any ideas about his purpose in this household.
Once he is safely away, I open the door.
Three vampires stride from the black carriage, their attire is equally dark, and without a shred of any other color. The female—though the weakest of the lot—ascends the steps, preceding the two men.
“Della,” I say, infusing as much cheer into my voice as possible. “I was beginning to think you would never grace Windbury with your radiance.”
“You are full of demon shit, Mr. Devereaux,” she says, but a smile still graces her lips as she enters. Della runs a finger along the edge of my jaw, her long nail scratching at my skin. I feel small beads of blood well up before the cut knits itself back together.
Della’s eyes remain locked on Lawrence. She doesn’t slow until she stands before him, her chest pressed to his. She reaches up to the back of his head to pull him down to place a kiss on his mouth. He doesn’t return the kiss, but he doesn’t fight it either, he just allows it to happen.
A pale white and gold rat scurries from her shoulder to his, flicking Della’s chin length black hair with the pink whip-like tail.
Lawrence left his demon with Della. It was his way of keeping an eye on the others. His distrust in such a seemingly ordinary gesture tells me all I need to know.
“I missed you too, Arinah,” Lawrence whispers as the demon nuzzles him with their little pink nose.
I face the two vampires standing just outside the threshold.
Cassius wears his white blond hair loose as always. Though now it has grown more than halfway down his back from the shoulder length it was the last time we crossed paths.
The other man? Him, I do not know.
“It has been a long time, friend,” I say, greeting only Cassius, though he is anything but a friend.
“Are you not going to invite us in?” he asks. His expression is passive, the only hint of his true thoughts show in a singularly raised brow.
A breeze picks up, bringing with it the bite of an early winter chill—another reminder that in two months, Clara and I will venture north and face Elizabeth. But if I have any say in the matter, we will avoid it altogether.
The demons in the forest howl as they emerge for the night. They are louder than usual—closer.
I hold in a curse. Their presence has been an ever-increasing problem lately that demands more and more of my attention. And I must go out again soon to chase them back.
However, with my newly arrived guests to keep me occupied, I don’t know how or when I will be able to take care of the encroaching demons or find the cause, let alone keep any one of these vampires from draining every last drop of blood from Clara’s veins.
“Yes, please come in, Cassius… and,” I pause, finally turning to the unknown man.
Red rings his irises. It is not an uncommon sight for a vampire needing to feed, but he is the only one showing that trait at this moment. He would have fed with the others. Which only means one thing—his bloodlust is barely contained.
My blood boils. Upon hearing I claimed a human for the first time, Elizabeth has deemed fit to send a newly cr
eated vampire to my home.
“I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting yet,” I say with false pleasantries. “I am Alaric Devereaux.”
His hair is short and is a mix of blond and light brown. His clothes are neatly pressed without a single stitch out of place—exactly how Elizabeth prefers us. In his left, he carries a fat toad, thick with warts.
Charming.
“Victor Connors.” He holds out his hand.
It takes a long moment to understand what the reptile’s presence means.
Rather than taking his hand, I step back and gesture for them to enter.
“Did you drive the horses with demons?” Lawrence asks. “I only arrived a few hours ago myself. You were a good two days behind me.”
The door clicks shut, silencing the night song of demons.
I walk through the manor, knowing they will all follow. I don’t trust the lot behind me with my life—or anyone else’s for that matter—but it would be a show of weakness to watch them. So I keep my head forward.
Cassius lets out a hearty laugh. “We did find some minor demons to possess them,” he admits with hubris. “We didn’t want to miss anything… interesting.”
Fifty years spent as Elizabeth’s lapdog has done nothing for his arrogance.
The next few days will be long and tedious.
Mrs. Westfield hurries out of the drawing room as we near, careful to keep her eyes downcast, and hands clasped before her.
Once we have all settled, I serve each a glass of blood. Not enough to be considered a meal. Being several hours old, it has lost its warmth and is not up to my standards. I do not pour myself a glass, but it’s enough to tell them—you are not welcome here.
Lawrence sits in one of the two wingback chairs, Della lies spread across the chaise lounge looking as though she awaits many servants to cater to her every whim and desire.
Victor glares down at his glass, wrinkling his nose in distaste. That doesn’t stop him from throwing his head back and drinking it in one swallow. His tongue darts out to lick up a stray drop lingering in the corner of his mouth. He runs a finger along the inside of his glass and sucks the last bits of blood.
I will need to test his weakness. How far can he be pushed before he gets close to his breaking point?
“We should have brought our own humans with us,” Della whispers to Lawrence loud enough for everyone to hear. She sips from her glass, the blood staining her lips. Everyone in the room can hear her, though no one acknowledges her words. She walks a thin line of disrespect for a lesser vampire.
Cassius stands stoically before the fire, drinking his glass like it was a finely aged brandy.
“Where is the fresh blood?” Victor asks.
Della and Lawrence stare at him in horror, or perhaps they are just surprised that anyone would voice such an insulting question to someone who could rip him apart with little effort. He is indeed newly sired if simple games are beyond him. Elizabeth was a fool to send him.
“If you are not pleased,” I say, straightening my cuffs and infusing as much disinterest into my voice as possible, “you are free to stay at one of the local inns instead, or leave and return to Nightwich.”
Cassius crosses the room to stand by my side and throws an arm over my shoulder. I want to push him off, but doing so would be a direct insult to Elizabeth, and she is already causing me enough of a headache all the way from her miserable castle in the Sunfall mountains. She is in everything that is said and done since Lawrence arrived on my doorstep.
“Do not be upset, Victor didn’t mean anything by it,” Cassius says.
Lawrence watches on, silently sipping his drink and looking amused. He is of no help, so I walk to the window to remove Cassius’s arm from me, unable to stand this man’s false attempts at niceties. It is a favor to us both, as neither of us would pass up the chance to rip the other’s throat out if the opportunity presented itself.
The wind picks up, whipping through the trees of the forest. Above, the moon is bright in the cloudless sky, splattered with stars.
“What possessed Elizabeth to send all of you? Surely Lawrence is more than capable of bringing any news she could want to send?” I turn my head slightly to eye Lawrence meaningfully.
Cassius sneers, but the expression vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a predator’s smile.
“We were all eager to meet this delightful human snack of yours.” He looks around as if she has been in the room, hiding the entire time. “Where is the little morsel anyway?”
I narrow my eyes at his transparent attempt at speeding up protocol.
“I am afraid that she is retired for the evening.”
Victor growls, drawing our attention to him. He sits with his legs crossed before the fire, dragging his finger along the inside of his glass.
Fuck. He is still very new, and his blood lust is stronger than I could have anticipated.
It has been some time since Elizabeth has sired a new vampire, nearly a century ago if memory serves.
Why send him here where there is a newly claimed human?
Cassius joins my side at the window, but he doesn’t look out. His gaze is locked on me, watching in the reflection on the glass.
“Winter solstice is in two months’ time,” he says quietly. He reaches into the pocket of his vest, pulling out an envelope and handing it to me. The black wax seal on the back holds the symbol of the waning crescent moon with a raven’s feather cutting through it.
The paper is thick and heavy without a single word written on the outside—not even my name. I break the seal and open it.
A formal invitation to the Solstice masquerade on the last day of the year, and to the festivities that will last for two weeks. It is the same invitation as every other year to celebrate a successful claiming season.
Except, this time, the script does not belong to any servant or scribe—it belongs to none other than Elizabeth herself. The faint scent of iron rises up and I inhale. This invitation was not written in ink but in human blood.
There is more meaning behind this unassuming envelope than is apparent at first glance.
After a moment, I raise my eyes to meet Cassius’s. “The post could have delivered this just as easily as one of you. I fail to see the point of this gathering.”
A wicked smile spreads across his lips, but there is no humor in it. “Oh, but we have all come to make sure you and your little pet make it there this time.”
Dread turns my blood cold, but I manage to keep my voice calm. “Message received. You may all leave in the morning.” I start to turn away, stopping after two steps when he chuckles.
“Oh no, my friend. We will be here with you, and we shall personally escort the both of you to Nightwich for the celebration. Elizabeth will be thrilled you have finally decided to act like a real vampire.” He comes around to stand in front of me, fidgeting with my cravat as if to straighten it.
My fists clench at my sides, crumpling the edge of the invitation.
“In fact,” he says quietly. “We are all anxious to meet the human who has managed to capture your interest after all these years.”
Chapter Two
Clara
Something flutters near my head and my eyes snap open. I sit up, heart thundering in my chest. It takes me a moment to blink the bleariness of sleep from my vision, but when I do, perched inches from my face is a small black bat watching me sleep.
I suck in a breath to give the beastie a piece of my mind, but a single, loud knock on my door halts my tongue.
Sending a glare in Cherno’s direction, I throw my blankets off, hoping the creature will take the hint and leave.
It doesn’t work. I don’t take my eyes off the little intruder even as I open the door.
“Miss,” Mr. Steward says quietly. There is an unidentifiable note to his voice that is out of place.
I take him in—from his downcast gaze to the slump of his posture that looks uncomfortable and unnatural. In his h
ands, he holds out a thick bundle.
I step back and motion for him to enter.
Wordlessly, he sets the clothes on the bench at the foot of my bed then crosses the room to stoke the dying fire in the hearth.
Mr. Steward sets the iron poker aside. He stays crouched for a long moment, staring into the flames. “Mrs. Westfield has finished fixing the last of your pockets.”
I start at the words and eye the clothes he’d brought. I suppose my attempts at sewing were even worse than I’d initially assumed.
He stands and heads to the door where he pauses, keeping his back to me. He hasn’t looked in my direction once since he came in. The avoidance bothers me, though I’m not sure why.
“Three more guests arrived late last night. I suggest you keep to your rooms until the sun is high.” And then he leaves, closing the door with a soft click.
I face Cherno, who is still watching me with those large, dark eyes. So many thoughts race through my mind. It has been at least a week since I’ve seen the butler, and now he wakes me up, delivering clothes and a cryptic message.
And these guests…
“They are vampires, aren’t they?” I ask.
