Page 7 of Blood Sings (Beyond the Gloom #1)

“Aurora! Aurora!” Mother’s voice bulldozed through the fog of slumber.

The wardrobe doors screeched open, and I jolted awake. Damn those squeaky hinges.

“Get up this instant!”

I forced my eyes open, each blink feeling like sandpaper scraping across my corneas. The harsh light stabbed at my senses, sending shards of pain lancing through my skull.

“Please… could you keep it down?” I groaned, massaging my temples.

She paused, her heels going silent on the hardwood. “You don’t sound well, child.”

Understatement of the century, Mother.

Sleep had been a stranger this past week, especially after losing three more Sparrows on our last mission. We were down to two-thirds of our capacity now. I hadn’t eaten properly, couldn’t focus, and had barely left my room.

A cramp knifed through my abdomen, and I hissed out a groan. Anxiety and hunger jarred inside me, but until Stoneheart confirmed the reinforcements I’d requested, the ball of dread wouldn’t stop playing catch with my organs.

Mother swept aside my canopy curtains, tossing a wispy silver dress onto the bed. Her sharp intake of breath told me I looked as awesome as I felt. “Dark Lord help us, Aurora. When did you last feed?”

“Not hungry,” I lied, even as my body cried out for sustenance.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t have you fainting at tonight’s dinner.”

If my brain hadn’t been swimming in molasses, that little tidbit would’ve set off all kinds of alarms. Of course she cared more about the dinner than my welfare.

I hauled myself upright, fighting a wave of dizziness. “I said I’m fine,” I snapped. And, oh boy, how my body protested.

The mere thought of blood set my insides on fire, a primal hunger clawing at me with razor-sharp talons. I gritted my teeth, forcing it down. Later. I’d feed later, when she was gone.

Flopping onto the edge of the mattress, I eyed the offending dress like it might bite. “What exactly is this?” I asked, dangling it from my fingertips. “A dress or a window curtain?”

Mother’s lips curled into an infuriating smile. “Not to your taste, dear?”

Oh, Elena is a comedian today.

The rich scent of synthetic blood from her cup made my stomach growl like a beast. Traitor.

I watched her drift to my desk, her fingers hovering over the notebook where three names stood out in bold letters against the ivory paper. Pyro. Torrent. Clay. My chest tightened, their loss still raw and hemorrhaging.

Her presence suddenly felt invasive, almost profane. My spacious bedroom shrank around me. The light oak furniture, the plush rug, even my beloved floor-to-ceiling bookshelf—all of it pressed closer, choking me with a suffocating mix of guilt, sorrow, and rising unease. Something was very wrong. I could feel it in my bones.

Taking a steadying breath, I steeled myself. “Alright, Mother. What’s going on?”

The window latch shrieked, and a gust of night air swept in.

My fangs extended, my starved body honing in on a decadent sweetness that made me forget about the ridiculous dress. I drifted to the window, pulled by an aroma so intoxicating it made my head swim.

This was no ordinary scent. It was spring’s first bloom, a bath of milk and honey. My nostrils flared, drinking it in. Mighty Derzelas, I hadn’t smelled anything this exquisite since Stoneheart’s blood sample.

Nothing smelled this good.

Except fresh blood.

My blissful trance cracked as brutal reality seeped in like venom through my veins. Beneath that sweetness lurked something darker—bitter, familiar, whispering of old grudges and deceit. Ice-cold dread slithered down my back.

The Wurdulaks.

“They are here, aren’t they?” I choked out, stumbling back to the bed and clutching the bedpost for dear life.

Elena shadowed to my side, her face a mask of calm. “Yes, dear. And we’re already running late.”

This wasn’t a nightmare. She really planned to marry me off to Lev. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could vanish, melt into the walls, anything to disappear.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered.

She cupped my cheek, her gaze unusually tender. “You can and will, my dear. It’s for our coven’s future.”

“Please, there must be another way.” I shook my head, desperation hollowing out my chest. “I’ll do anything.”

Mother sighed, genuine sorrow darkening her ruby-red eyes. “I’m sorry, Aurora, but there’s no turning back now. Lev will be here soon.” She tucked a wayward strand behind my ear. “Breathe. You are ready.”

“Ready?” The word tasted like ash.

This wasn’t just a marriage. It was a blood union under the sacred moon, binding us for eternity. I didn’t love Lev. I barely knew him.

“Arms up.” Mother’s tone brooked no argument.

I complied mechanically as she slipped the gossamer shroud over my head. Her icy fingers skimmed my nape, fastening the ruffled collar, and a shudder rippled across my skin. Panic writhed inside me like a nest of vipers, but I forced it down.

What choice did I have?

This was the beginning of my end. And my own mother had instigated it.

If she noticed my discomfort, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she grasped my hands, tugging me toward the dressing table. “Come, Aurora.”

I followed on leaden feet, my reflection growing clearer with each step. The dress shimmered over my skin, morphing from soft lavender to a faint blush under the warm glow of the crystal chandelier. A white leather under-bust, sewn with mother-of-pearl beads, cinched my waist before tapering into a narrow triangle that skimmed my thighs.

Bile burned the back of my throat. The thought of parading before the Wurdulaks in this barely-there outfit made me want to scream.

Elena’s sharp nails dug into my shoulders, urging me to sink onto the cushioned seat. “Don’t look so terrified, dear. It’s just a birthday dinner,” she drawled, but the trashing of my heart swallowed her words.

I scoffed. “A dinner where I’m the main course.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Alliances have always been forged through marriage.” She picked up the hairbrush and began working through the knots in my hair. Her voice softened, taking on an almost wistful quality. “When did it grow so long? You were so eager for it to reach your lower back.”

The abrupt change of subject threw me. “I was fifteen, Mother,” I retorted and avoided her gaze in the mirror.

At fifteen, I’d have given anything to look like her. Now, save for my father’s round eyes, I was her mirror image. So alike, yet worlds apart.

The lack of blood had turned my white, smooth skin ashen and drawn. I traced a finger along my cheekbone, wondering when I’d started to look so… haunted. Dark-purple crescents shadowed my bloodshot eyes, while black veins crept from my hairline like spidery cracks in a ceramic set.

I looked as dead as I felt inside. But perhaps that was the only way to survive it—become numb.

“You might feel helpless now, but it shall pass,” she said, stroking my hair. “Forever is a long time to grow feelings for your husband. And the prince is… pleasing to look at. You can’t argue with that.”

I whipped my gaze to her. If Elena could describe Lev as ‘pleasing’ in the same breath, the world must be ending. I snatched her goblet, taking a long sip to wet my throat—and steel myself for this conversation.

“He’s not right for me,” I murmured. “I want what you and Father had—real love, not a political transaction.”

Elena’s shoulders sagged, and I instantly regretted bringing him up. She missed him, I knew that much. Six centuries together was a long time for anyone, even for purebloods. But then she met my gaze, her lips curving into a smile that revealed her familiar dimples.

“It wasn’t always a fairy tale, you know.” Her eyes gleamed with long-buried memories. “I was quite the rebel in my day. Your father pursued me for a century before I finally yielded.” She chuckled, and a bittersweet sorrow gripped my heart. “I came to see how our union could benefit the coven. Love, my dear, isn’t always a lightning strike. Sometimes it’s a slow burn that grows stronger with time.”

“Could Lev and I really work?” I murmured, my voice almost lost in the rustling fabric.

She paused, considering my question. “He’s a capable ruler, already leading his coven in all but name. His qualities, I’m certain, extend beyond what you see on the surface.”

“What about his harem?” I asked. “The rumors about how he treats his concubines?”

“You of all people should know rumors can be misleading. And you, my dear, are not like his mistresses.” She gave my shoulder a gentle pat. “You’ll wield your own power soon.”

Am I seriously contemplating this? If Dracula granted me the Blood Aura before the Red Moon, I could escape this sham of a marriage. But until then, I was trapped.

I’d have to marry him. For the coven.

Still, Lev having a harem bothered me. Whoever he bedded mattered little to me, but as his bride, I refused to accept him with other women. I wouldn’t compromise my pride.

“I have no desire to be another one of his conquests,” I said, straightening my spine. “And I doubt he’d give up his concubines for me.”

“That, my dear,” she mused, parting my hair with practiced fingers, “depends on how much you wish them gone. You possess all the weapons necessary to captivate and hold his attention.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

I caught my reflection in the mirror, seeing myself through her eyes for a moment. The gossamer dress, my pale skin, the subtle curve of my neck—were these the weapons she meant? My lessons in seduction had only gone so far. Could I really go through with this? The previous Blood Pacts hadn’t necessitated that much planning. Our bloodlust didn’t care as long as our hunger was satiated.

I took a deep breath, trying to quell the storm in my chest. If only I could borrow some of her confidence to wear like armor against the night ahead.

Elena didn’t need a crown to look regal. Her emerald dress hugged her curves like a mermaid’s tail, a chain of black diamonds drawing attention to her ample bosom. She was positively stunning. My childhood jealousy of my mother raised its beastly head.

“And what if I fail?” I asked, fiddling with my cuff buttons. God, I hated how insecure I sounded about something I didn’t even want.

“You won’t fail,” Mother assured me. “But if he keeps his harem, what stops you from having your own? Long-lasting partnerships aren’t built overnight. They grow from seeds. Even a grapevine needs support to stand tall.” She lifted my chin, our eyes meeting in the mirror. “Such matters shouldn’t prevent you from ruling together, nor would you be the first to seek pleasure outside the royal chambers.”

Another chasm between us. Elena commanded respect like a seasoned general, while I was just a hopeless romantic. She’d been holding our coven together since Father passed, and here I was, too selfish to sacrifice my happiness for the family’s greater good. If not for the constant threat of Stalkers looming over the Republic, I might have fled from Prince Lev as far as my feet could carry me.

“What about my Darklings?” I asked, worrying my lip. “Won’t he reject me because of them?”

“You are Dracula’s chosen, Aurora!” she snapped, her sharp tone slicing through my doubts. “A Tepes never shows weakness. Once you grow into your power, you’ll be the most feared original in the Republic. Darklings or not, you’ll wield the most coveted magic in existence. Don’t lose your dignity over frivolities, you’re much too important.”

She set down the brush and vanished in a whirlpool of Darklings, reappearing beside my four-poster bed with silver high-heeled sandals dangling from her finger. “It’s time. We should go greet our future allies.”

I released a weary exhale, crossing to her and grasping her arm. My stomach stirred as I muttered, “I’m ready,” before the shadows enveloped us, whisking us away.