Page 1 of Cruel Vampire King (Honeyblood Vampires #1)

Holakas was reported to be the most beautiful city on the southern continent. At least, that’s what the Holakas family would have the people of Taimarah believe.

The vampires had ruled the kingdom for centuries now, and had founded the city, named after themselves, shortly after they conquered the old kingdoms that had been there. According to the vampires, they ‘united’ the kingdoms into one unified entity covering half the continent.

It spread from the Humbolt Sea to the west all the way to the Monkshood Mountains in the east, bordered by the kingdom of Peche to the south and Ananke to the north.

I’d never been to Holakas before I rode in on a high-speed intercity train. The clacking of the wheels running over the tracks grew softer as we passed through the gates. Around me, the other passengers pressed their noses to the windows and gazed out at the city in wonder. Towering skyscrapers built out of multi-colored glass shone in the morning light, reflecting rainbows on the streets below. Besides the trains, there was no driven traffic; everyone was on foot or riding bicycles in their designated lanes.

For a moment, I was distracted by the sights as well. I hadn’t expected to find so many garden plots in the streets. It seemed like a river of green wound its way next to the train tracks, bursting with colorful flowers, vegetables, and fruit. There were no fences or guards around these plots. Maybe there were cameras to stop people from plundering the gardens?

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I checked the dimly lit screen over the seats opposite me, showing where we were and what stops were next. My hands tightened on my knees. It had taken years of preparation, but I was finally here.

“Do you think they’ll broadcast the Blood Trials again this year?” one of the young men next to me asked his buddies eagerly.

I studied him in my peripherals. He was tall and muscular, with a neck tattoo of a bloody dagger. His dark hair hid the tips of his ears, but he had a certain graceful fluidness, even in standing still, that marked him as an elf.

He and his buddies started to talk about what they’d do if they were conscripted into the Trials. I tuned them out as soon as they started to brag about how easily they’d kill each other. It amused me to imagine their reaction if I stood up and said I was here to volunteer.

If they looked at me, they’d see a badly scarred woman who didn’t look threatening. The bulky sweater I wore hid my muscles, and my legs were so short that I had to push my feet to tip-toe for them to reach the floor. Humans tended to be shorter than most of the other species, but I was small, even for a human.

I got off at the next stop and made my way through the streets toward the colosseum. This was the day I’d spent the last four years dedicating every day to prepare for. I was going to win the trials, no matter what I had to do.

I was going to get Darcie back.

A bored-looking orc with a heavy jaw and protruding lower tusks sat at the entrance of the colosseum. She was one of several scribes taking the names of the volunteers.

“Name,” she said, not looking up at me.

“Elara Tideborne,” I answered.

She typed my name into her laptop. “Age?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Species?”

“Human.” I had some selkie in my heritage, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Right. Your number is—” she cut off abruptly when she looked up at me. Her eyes widened.

I smiled, my scarred lips twisting in a way I knew unsettled people. With the turtleneck I wore, she could only see the old burn scars that disfigured the lower half of my face. They traced lower, down my neck, and wrapped around my body in a wave that ended at my hip. Few people had seen the full extent of these scars.

The orc cleared her throat and handed me a sticky label. “Your number is five-oh-four. You’ll need to head to the blue banner for your qualifications.”

“Thanks.” I stuck the label with my number to my sweater and headed to the banner. There were several banners through the wide, open space of the colosseum, under which milled various configurations of people.

Netting created a dome over the colosseum, diffusing the sunlight. Undoubtedly, that was to ensure our vampire lords could watch with greater comfort. Vampire skin was sensitive to sunlight, especially fresh-turned vampires. The ones with vampire heritage tolerated it better, but it still gave him burns and sunstroke faster than many other species.

Tall walls rose up around the opening of the colosseum, lined with rows on rows of seating. A few dozen vampires milled about in these seats already. I imagined that once the Trials actually began, their numbers would swell greatly.

I swept my gaze over the vampires sitting above us, seeking out any familiarity in them. Disappointment hit me when I recognized none of them, but I chided myself quickly. I wasn’t here for revenge, and assassinating anyone this early in the game would only ruin my chances to save Darcie. I hadn’t dedicated my life to rescue my sister only to blow it now because I was impatient.

A tall, thin woman with a severe haircut clapped her hands, calling for our attention. Her silver eyes glowed, marking her as a vampire.

“Welcome, Volunteers, to the Blood Trials. Before we accept you into the Trials, you will have to prove your worthiness to be here,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “It’s not entertaining to watch small, weak people be torn to shreds, and an insult to the Gods for organizing these Trials in the first place.”

Her gaze landed on me, and a sneer twisted her lip. I gazed back coolly. It didn’t matter if this woman thought I couldn’t make it. Being underestimated was just one of my advantages.

I did wonder, though, if she thought she was fooling anyone with that Gods nonsense. The Blood Trials had been implemented a century ago as an annual bloodbath to entertain the vampire lords. Supposedly, it was something that had been organized by the gods themselves. A likely story. The gods didn’t care about entertaining anyone except themselves.

The woman opened her mouth, then stopped. A hush fell over the colosseum; everyone beneath the other banners and even the vampires in the stands craned their necks, silent. From where I stood, I could only see the backs of the other volunteers. I sidestepped around a hulking troll to find a tall, hooded man had entered the area.

There was a fluidness with which he moved that belied his size. I watched him, all of a sudden fighting the urge to stride over to him. Who was this, who could command silence just from his mere presence? He walked alone, no sign of attendants or guards. I leaned forward, as though there was a magnet inside of him that was drawing me close.

The man paused in the center of the colosseum and threw back his hood. Recognition swept through me, and my blood started to race. It was him.

Luken Holakas.

The vampire king himself.

All I could do for a moment was stare, that strange urge to run forward overwhelmed by the sheer shock at seeing him. I hadn’t expected that he’d show his face here, today. I thought he would sit in his private box with a glass of bloody wine, laughing in the days to come.

After my initial shock wore off came another blast of surprise as a slither of heat swept through my body. I’d seen plenty of pictures of him, but it didn’t compare to the real thing. His thick dark hair contrasted against his warm, golden complexion. He wore it long, put into an elaborate series of braids, which looked more elven than anything else. I had to remind himself that while his father was a vampire, his mother had been an elf. He must style himself this way as a way to build more connection with the elves.

Nobody would mistake him for an elf, however. Though there was a slant to his ears, they weren’t truly pointed. His muscular figure, combined with his height, gave him a wild sort of appearance that wasn’t at all like the fluid grace that elves held themselves with.

“This is the year’s tributes?” he asked, his voice low and melodic.

A chill swept through me. I was supposed to hate him, not ogle him! He’d ruined my life. Took everything from me. I wasn’t here to dwell on how attractive he was. I filled my mind with images of his decapitated corpse—let’s see how handsome he’d be then!

“Yes, your Majesty,” the woman in my group said. “They have not yet gone through the placement tests yet.”

The king’s eyes flickered to me. They glowed a warmer light than the woman’s, a sort of amber gold rather than silver. I stiffened as our gazes locked. He probably expected me to look away. I should look away. As a human, I was especially meant to show deference. We were among the shortest-lived of the species, we were little more than a tasty beverage for vampires.

My heart pounded in my throat. Though his eyes didn’t move from mine, I could feel his gaze like a physical touch on my body. It reached right through the layers of clothes I wore, laying me bare before this man. I felt as though he was devouring me with a mere look.

Focus up , I told myself, unsettled by this reaction.

I wasn’t eighteen years old anymore.

I wasn’t a naive child seeing a vampire for the first time.

My parents were dead. My only living sister taken away, claimed as a sacrifice to the gods. I was alone in this world, with no happy thoughts to chase off the demons in my nightmares. All because of him. He took it all. My family, my innocent way of viewing the world, my sister. He was the reason I was here, the reason I could look at the faces of the people I was going to kill without a shred of remorse.

“Start the placement, then,” the king said, still not moving his eyes from me. He lifted a hand and pointed at me. “Her first.”

A prickling raced over my scalp. I broke my gaze from him, turning to the surprised-looking vampire woman. She gestured me forward, and I moved quickly and silently. An uncomfortable question made my stomach clench. What if Luken recognized me? Surely, after four years, he wouldn’t…

“Elara Tideborne,” the woman said, reading from her tablet. “Age twenty-two, human. A volunteer. Please give us a demonstration of the skills you think earns you a place in the Trials.”

She gestured toward a dummy set up halfway between herself and the king. I confidentially strode forward, pushing this strange reaction I had to the vampire king to the back of my mind. It was just what he did. I’d bet my right arm that every person—man and woman—in the arena felt that same pull toward him. They didn’t call vampires sex fiends for nothing.

A weapons rack was lined up next to the dummies. I took my time selecting one as the other tributes started to shuffle from foot to foot, restless to prove themselves. All the while, the king didn’t move his eyes from me. I could feel his gaze like a caress on my form. Dimly, I was aware that beneath the other banners, others were already demonstrating their skills.

I selected a sword. Something sturdy and light, but not my preferred weapon. I couldn’t show off all my skills if I was going to bank on being underestimated. I held the sword with an almost-not-right grip, and stalked up to the dummy. In a flash, I’d noted its weak points. If I was going to get through the initial placement, I needed to strike off its head. The neck was reinforced, but the torso area, not so much.

I braced myself, leveled the sword, and swung. It was dull, but I’d expected that. The blade bit only halfway through the pine rod that made up its spine. As the blade stopped, I carried my momentum, swinging it from my arms into my body. I leveraged my weight over the sword and swung up and around, slamming both heels into the rod. It cracked open, and the dummy split in half, the top skittering away in the dust.

I came down, landing lightly, and straightened.

Luken was still looking at me. A smile spread over his face, and he clapped his hands once. Something in the depths of his eyes burned but this time, I remembered myself. I lowered my eyes. A low chuckle sounded from somewhere, but I wasn’t quite sure if it was the king or someone else.

“You can go to the red banner,” the vampire woman said, sounding oddly… upset.

I bowed once and headed for the red banner. There were already a dozen or so people lingering beneath it. Most were big, muscular, and had the scars to prove they’d been in many fights ahead of this. One of them, a hulking troll with blue skin and eyes the color of moonstones, leered at me.

“Are the vampires giving us some… entertainment?” he sneered.

My gaze flicked over him. Tall, muscular, brutish. But he was rubbing his leg. From the way he was standing, it was bothering him. I wouldn’t think he’d make it through the placements if not for the prison tattoos lining his arms. It was clear he had a bum leg—meaning he was one of those tributes that was sure to be ripped to pieces soon enough in the Trials.

I ignored his crude innuendo and focused on the contestants still moving through the placement. The king had left while I was walking over here, and I tried not to feel a sliver of disappointment that stole through my belly.

There were two ways that tributes ended up as part of the Blood Trials. Those, like me, who were free citizens and volunteered, drawn by the prize of winning. Others were criminals; some sentenced to die, but mostly, people picked at random, being punished for minor crimes.

Minor, so that if any of the prisoners won the trials, a hardened criminal wouldn’t have any power over the king.

It was all very straightforward. First, the tributes showed off their fighting skills… by killing off all the other participants. There could only be one survivor, who would then be taken to the vampire king to prove their ability to resist temptation.

A vampire’s bite was an orgasmic event. If vampires were sex fiends, their appeal was heightened even further when teeth penetrated flesh. On the first pull, even the most steadfast monk would beg to be bedded. And Luken Holakas was a vampire even more powerful than any other. And the desire he’d create in a person’s body? It would be even more intense than a regular vampire.

If they managed to resist, the king would grant them one wish.

In the century that the Trials had been going, only one person had won that prize. I intended to be the second.

“Even if you survive the bloodbath, do you think a little thing like you will be able to resist the king?” the troll asked, edging closer to me.

I sighed, annoyed. “I think I have as much chance at resisting his… desires as you do. I hear he doesn’t care what hole he uses, just so long as it’s tight and warm,” I said. I hoped my implication would get the troll to shut up.

“Ha,” the troll laughed. “It’s not about what he likes but what I do. And I can show you—”

He reached for me, but before I could break his arm, a vampire was between us. “You are not permitted to touch one another before the trials start. And during the trials, you will be watched. If you attempt to sexually assault another contestant, you will be automatically disqualified.”

Meaning killed .

The troll scowled and stepped away from me. “Was only having a bit of fun. No need to get testy.”

“Just keep to yourself,” the vampire ordered.

The placements slogged on. Most of the day was spent waiting and watching the other participants win their places. I had to do an obstacle course and spar with a young woman my size. Given her wide eyes and pale face, she was a prisoner forced to be here. I wondered what she’d done, then shut down that line of thinking.

It was drawing near midnight before the final tributes were announced. I was among them. We were led out of the arena and to the temple of the queen of the gods, Trinia. It was she who first birthed the world, and these trials were of particular note for her, as was all the shedding of blood, just as she shed her own blood to bring life to this world. The Trinian Oracle, speaker of the gods, waited for us. This oracle was swathed in so many shrouds it was impossible to see any defining feature. When they spoke, it was in a keening wail.

“Prepare yourselves for death,” they cried. “You will be assigned in teams for the first trial. Your survival depends on your teammates. Learn to fight as a unit or die as one.”

The silver-eyed vampire woman from before stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Our first team.”

I braced myself, and was unsurprised when she called, “Elara Tideborne,” before any other name. I stepped forward, my jaw clenched. The king seemed to have singled me out. I have no doubt that he decided I’d be a tribute the moment he looked at me. Though the question was, if he wanted me to die, why not oust me from the competition and slit my throat in some dark alley?

“Kael Ironsmith,” the woman continued, and an orc stepped up next to me. “Ysara Bend. Greyson. Thessa Ashthorne.”

Three others joined Kael and me, but I didn’t look at any of them. I didn’t want to get to know them. We were a team right now, but in the end, there was only one survivor of the Blood Trials.

And it would be me.