Wicked Vampire Prince by Bella Klaus

Chapter One

There was one type of person I despised more than vampires.

Every vampire I’d met treated other supernatural races like dirt. One in particular had tried to make me his blood slave. But vampires couldn’t help themselves, just like a lion or a tiger or a polar bear. Nature had made them the apex predator. They were stronger, faster, longer-lived, and that came with a level of justifiable arrogance.

What I despised even more than vampires were the owners of blood salons. They were pimps, panderers, and profiteers. Worst of all, they had no use for blood except as a means to make gold. They preyed upon the desperate, selling dreams of easy money, only for their victims to lose their blood… and their lives.

I stood beneath the shade of the cherry blossom trees with Mother Hecate and eleven other Sisters from the Temple of Light. We were picketing Salon Sinn, a storefront of black slate decorated with a red neon sign above its windowless door.

This particular den of iniquity was located at the start of a beautiful tree-lined boulevard of cafés, high-end restaurants, and exclusive boutiques. According to the adverts all over Supernatural Media, Salon Sinn promised to be the hottest blood salon in town.

Ha.

We were here to save lives, to stop vampires from gorging on blood, and to ruin the salon’s grand opening. I shook my placard, emblazoned, BOTTLES NOT VEINS. “What do we want?”

“No blood bondage,” my Sisters chanted.

“When do we want it?”

“Now!” they cried.

Further down the road, a vampire woman in an ankle-length fur coat paused before turning on her heel and ducking around the corner. I rolled my eyes. She acted like she couldn’t tell the difference between a flock of reapers and a dozen armed nuns in purple habits.

Vampires dipped their heads as they passed us, some of them using their enhanced speed to avoid our glowers. Salon Sinn’s neon sign changed from red to white to red again as though objecting to our peaceful protest.

“No more drinking blood from the vein,” I yelled, glancing at Mother Hecate to see if she was watching. “Vampires, abstain!”

Mother Hecate held one of her ceremonial torches toward the branches of a cherry blossom tree, illuminating the red blossoms, a vibrant shade of crimson. A gold crown sat atop her burgundy hair, which flowed down to her waist and blended seamlessly with her floor-length gown.

She was our temple’s founder, a Greek goddess who devoted herself to the care of orphans and the sick, and the protection of those who fell prey to supernatural predators such as vampires.

The blare of a horn from the road made me jump. I turned to find a black Bentley slowing toward us, and the driver wound down the front passenger-side window.

“Why don’t you find something better to do than interfering with vampire affairs?” asked a posh male voice from inside.

I ground my teeth and tried to stop my nostrils from flaring. The answer to that question was obvious. If we nuns didn’t intervene between vampires and their victims, there would be a pile of exsanguinated corpses that would fill the courtyard of the Supernatural Council headquarters.

Of course, I couldn’t say any of this unless I wanted him to toss me halfway down the road. Vampires loved to drink blood but didn’t enjoy being called murderers. Instead, I smoothed out my features into a mask of serenity.

“We’re saving the lives of innocents, sir.” I dipped down to meet the crimson eyes of a silver-haired vampire who looked about my age, but there was absolutely no way he was twenty-two.

“Innocents?” he said with a scoff. “Anyone who accepts payment in exchange for being bitten takes on the risks and responsibilities of a whore.”

I sucked in a breath through flared nostrils. This blood-sucking bigot was wrong on so many levels. The placard in my hand buzzed with the extent of my fury. It was the best disguised foci, and even better than carrying a wand. With a push of magic, it would function as a battle staff.

I snarled, “People sell their blood out of desperation—”

“They love it, but then a nun like you has never experienced the pleasure of a man.” The vampire bared his fangs and hissed. “Come here and I’ll show you exactly what you’re missing.”

My lips formed a tight line. I’d already been abducted by a vampire, groped and bitten and injected with enough thrall to make me crave his touch. It all happened in the space of a few hours while I was on duty, yet it was a mark that had stained my soul for years. Because of the peculiar circumstances and the way I had gotten free, I’d had to keep the ordeal a secret from Mother Hecate and the other Sisters.

A shudder ran down my spine. It had taken me months to break my addiction, yet that vampire’s features haunted me every night.

“How about it?” He waggled his tongue. “I’ve always wanted to deflower a virgin.”

I offered him my sweetest smile. “How about I pray for the goddess to make you attractive to women? Maybe then you won’t need such an expensive car to compensate for your lack of manhood.”

“Frigid bitch.” He sped down the boulevard, leaving a cloud of exhaust fumes.

I scowled at his disappearing taillights. Most of the residents of Lamia were hostile toward the Temple of Light. During the day, we picketed any businesses that enabled vampires to feed directly from the vein. At night, we waited outside salons such as Sinn with our ambulances, bandages and blood replenishers, ready to heal those whom vampires had drained too far.

The establishment’s black marble door opened, and the man from the advert stepped out. Lovelace Rudo was a middle-aged man with a goatee and black curly hair that reached his shoulder blades. He wore a red velvet smoking jacket embroidered with golden dragons.

He was trying to look like a vampire from New Mesopotamia, but the lines around his face told me he was one of the supernatural races that only lived a few centuries, like a wizard or a mage.

He stood in the middle of the sidewalk and folded his arms across his chest, trying to look intimidating. The door behind him opened, and out walked a pair of seven-foot-tall demon hybrids in red tuxedos who might as well have been trolls.

“You ladies are trespassing,” said Mr. Rudo.

Mother Hecate strode forward, challenging him to make the first move. “The streets are public spaces.”

“Please leave.” Mr. Rudo stepped back toward his demon security guards and gulped.

I stood beside Mother Hecate and raised my brows. “King Valentine himself ruled that we weren’t breaking any laws, so we’re not going anywhere.”

The two giants closed the distance between themselves and their boss, their presence seeming to inject the man with confidence.

“My employees are due to arrive in a few minutes,” he said, sounding snippy. “One sight of you standing in the middle of the street like a purple Statue of Liberty, and they’ll bugger off with all my stock.”

A shocked breath hissed between my teeth. “You mean their blood?”

His gaze slid from Mother Hecate to me. “What’s the difference?”

Every inch of my skin crawled at his words, and my muscles twitched to whack him over the head with my placard. “You’re talking about people like they’re commodities.”

“We can’t all live off sycophants’ donations, you know,” he replied with a sneer. “Half the men who visit your temple just go there to ogle.”

My lip curled. How dare this creature suggest that our congregation were a bunch of perverts? Even if most of them were male, they were all respectful and adoring. I folded my arms across my chest and scowled. “You’re just bitter because we’re stopping you from ruining lives.”

Mother Hecate placed a hand on my shoulder, infusing me with calming magic. “Sister Yana, tell him how many people you’ve found dead in these salons in the past four years.”

My throat thickened. I swallowed down a lump and placed a hand over the locket I kept beneath my armor. The temple had been my entire life for as long as I could remember. I’d worked on the grounds, in the hospice, and in the ritual rooms. Now, my duties were picketing, which involved stationing myself outside blood salons.

I loved every aspect of my work, even dealing with haughty vampires and belligerent managers. But the only part of my service I couldn’t bear were the night shifts. Night shifts involved standing by the ambulance, ministering to those who had lost too much blood in the salon.

Mother Hecate gave my shoulder a gentle pat, reminding me to tell this man what I had seen.

With a deep breath, I replied. “At least three times a week, there’s an employee so drained by vampires that they need urgent medical help. About once a month, we encounter someone whose heart stops beating.”

He gave me a blank stare. “Then what?”

“Then we wait for the reapers to escort their souls,” I said.

Mr. Rudo’s shoulders slid up to his ears. “What I’m doing isn’t illegal, and my only employees are the alcohol servers and security guards. No one’s forcing cows to come here and sell their blood.”

Vampires and those associated with them called any Neutral a cow, whether or not they sold their blood. Never mind that they were also supernaturals. To certain types of villains, Neutrals were just cattle.

I bared my teeth. “Don’t you care that people will die?”

His eyes widened. “Woah, woah, woah…” Holding out both palms, he stepped back into the demons. “Salon Sinn is a lounge for patrons who enjoy blood play. I make money from kick-backs and entrance fees, not from death.”

Mother Hecate gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He’s obviously too blinded by greed to see the extent of his evil.”

The man curled his lip. “Are you wimple-clad wenches going to fuck off or not?”

“You cannot make us move,” said Mother Hecate.

He swept his arm toward the table of pamphlets and bottled blood we had set up beneath the cherry blossom trees. “Bloody hypocrites. You don’t give a shit about blood cows. All you care about is hawking your own product.”

One of the demons lumbered out from behind the proprietor, picked up a bottle of our O Neutral, and sniffed its cork.

I lurched forward. “If you smash it, then you’ll have to reimburse the temple at the retail price of two gold coins.”

Mr. Rudo turned to the demon and waved him away, making his oversized employee put down the bottle and retreat toward the salon’s front door. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You’ve got one minute to pack up your crap or I’m calling the enforcers.”

“I told you already, we’re doing nothing illegal.” Mother Hecate turned her attention from the man and faced me and the other Sisters. “Let’s give these sinners a round of Goddess Save the Meek.”

I held up my placard and chanted the first verse.

The proprietor’s eyes flashed, and he reached into his pocket. Stiffening, I pushed my power into the handle of my placard, readying myself to shoot in case he had a wand or was gathering magic. Instead of whipping out a weapon, he just pulled out a phone.

My eyes narrowed. He was probably going to carry out his threat to call the enforcers. Standing on the streets and protesting was legal, but creating a public disturbance could earn a nun a ride in the back of an armored truck followed by a night in a dingy prison.

I lowered my voice to a more socially acceptable volume, as did my other Sisters.

“Enforcers?” Mr. Rudo shouted over our chorus. “My business is besieged by hooligans.”

Shaking my head, I sang Goddess Save The Meek even quieter. This guy was such a bullshitter.

“Twelve of them.” He nodded to himself for emphasis. “And I believe this is organized crime. And they’re participating in illegal street trading of unregulated substances.”

Mother Hecate’s soprano soared through the air, drowning out the man’s telephone rant.

Some of the cars passing behind us slowed, and their drivers shouted obscenities. I ground my teeth. This only proved to me that vampires didn’t care if those they fed from lived or died. It wasn’t as though they needed much blood.

Vampires were living, breathing creatures that walked in the sun. They could eat and drink regular food, and they could survive on a mouthful a day, which was enough to replenish their low levels of iron.

But blood to the average supernatural vampire was like the finest champagne. And some of them liked to overindulge.

As our hymn ended, Mr. Rudo slipped the phone in his pocket and smirked. “Leave, before the enforcers arrive with a van large enough to drag you all to jail.”

Ignoring him, we continued on to sing Sanctity of Blood. If he thought the threat of law enforcement would have us scurrying back to the temple, he obviously hadn’t done his research. As our hymn ended, he turned around, beckoned at his demon security guards to come with him, and retreated through the salon’s front door.

A young man walked toward us, his steps faltering as he approached the salon. From his moderately good looks, he wasn’t a vampire. And from his less-than-expensive attire, he wasn’t a local.

We all fell silent and waited to see if he was one of Salon Sinn’s new employees.

He stopped at the establishment’s doors. “What’s going on?”

I was about to approach him, when Richelle rushed out from Mother Hecate’s other side and pushed a pamphlet in his hand. “Are you considering selling blood via this salon?”

His gaze darted toward the door. “The guy said I would be an independent contractor.”

“Because he doesn’t want to pay your health insurance.” Richelle placed her hands on her hips.

He reared back. “What are you talking about? In Logris, hospitals are free.”

I stepped forward, ready to explain how the health system in our supernatural city truly worked, but Mother Hecate grabbed my arm.

“Yana,” she said in a low voice. “You’re trying too hard.”

She stared down at me through eyes as dark as the midnight sky. Deep indigo irises with flecks of silver that resembled stars. Anyone who didn’t believe she was a goddess only had to look at her to see the divinity in her features.

Mother Hecate was as ageless as a vampire but without the cruel beauty. She was more powerful than our Witch Queen, but she wasn’t interested in prestige or power. All she ever wanted was to help others.

“Mother?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Her eyes softened. “I know you’re eager to make up for your mistakes. If you truly want to earn back our trust, do so with humility. Try not to be so overzealous.”

My heart sank into my clenching stomach. The mistake I was supposed to have made wasn’t even my fault. A vampire had abducted me while I patrolled a salon just like this one. But what I’d done to him was far worse.

“What if I feel strongly about what vampires do to these people?” I asked.

I couldn’t bear to look at her. Not when her every feature shone with sympathy. It was the kind of expression she reserved for those we brought into the hospice in the throes of their addiction to thrall.

“It’s easy to become evangelical when you’re in the field every day,” she murmured. “But you must approach your duty from a place of love.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have insulted the vampire in the Bentley.

“How could I feel anything positive about monsters who drain people’s blood?” I asked in a small voice.

Before Mother Hecate could answer, a black van pulled up beside our group, and a pair of enforcers stepped out from the front seats. They wore black armor and helmets that obscured their features, looking like they were ready to calm a riot.

I tightened my lips. The vehicle could probably hold six of us, but if we caused a fuss, they could call for backup and drag us all away.

“What’s the disturbance?” asked a male officer.

Mother Hecate drifted toward him, her arms wide. “I’m afraid it was a misunderstanding.”

The salon’s door flew open, and Mr. Rudo rushed out, his black curls bouncing over his shoulders. “Are you going to arrest these nutty nuns?”

A female enforcer pulled off her helmet, and my chest exploded with triumph. It was Willa—a girl Richelle and I had rescued the night I was abducted. Richelle had transported Willa to our temple’s hospice, but I had visited her almost every day.

Taking care of Willa while she suffered a terrible withdrawal had helped me overcome my own experience with that vampire. Our eyes met, and Willa gave me a wink before turning to the man with a scowl.

“What did you just call the Sisters of the Temple of Light?” she asked.

He spluttered. “Does it matter? They’re disturbing my business.”

Mother Hecate strode forward. I walked with her, but she raised a hand for me to stay back and beckoned at Richelle to follow. My shoulders sagged, and I stared at the women’s backs.

She still thought I had abandoned my station. But if I revealed the black magic I’d performed that night to break free, it would mean my excommunication. I would lose the only home and family I’d ever known.

Richelle turned around to meet my gaze and smirked.

“It looks like Richelle is next to get promoted to priestess,” one of the other novices whispered in my ear.

Clenching my teeth, I tried not to react. It didn’t matter what Mother Hecate said about love. No matter how much I tried to make up for my mistake, nothing I did seemed to erase that stain on my record. And every interaction I had with vampires and their associates was tainted by that night.

With a sigh, I turned away from the enforcers’ conversation with Mother Hecate and Mr. Rudo. Richelle also hadn’t forgiven me for abandoning her that night, but did she have to gloat?

A young woman who looked fresh from the academy strolled toward us from the other side of the road, wearing the kind of low-cut red shirt typical of blood salon employees. She glanced at the commotion on the street and placed a hand over her mouth.

Now was my chance to save her from a lifetime of regret. “Excuse me.” I stepped in front of her. “Are you considering employment with Salon Sinn?”

Her brows drew together. “Mr. Rudo messaged me on Supernatural Media and said I would be perfect for his new club.”

“You know it’s a blood salon, right?”

She paused a moment before answering. “He said there would be vampires there who would buy my blood, but I didn’t have to let them bite me.”

“Have you worked in a salon before?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“You’re a Neutral, right?”

She nodded.

Neutrals were common across all seven supernatural races in Logris. It didn’t matter if they were born to witches, mages, demons, faeries, angels, shifters, or vampires. Neutrals had magic but no way of expressing that power, so they were little better than humans.

Supernaturals ostracized them, including their own families, and many of them were disowned or struck off their family trees. The Council only recently allowed them to serve at the lowest ranks of their bureaucracy, but it was still legal for anyone to advertise a job and exclude Neutrals from applying.

I offered the young woman what I hoped was an understanding smile. “Mr. Rudo lied to you.”

Her brows furrowed. “About what?”

The only way for Neutrals to avoid becoming burdens to their families was to sell their blood, which vampires swore was both potent and delicious. If they allowed vampires to feed directly from the vein, they could make a living.

“Salon owners always tell Neutrals they can pour their blood into shot glasses, but why would vampires pay a premium when they can drink it from the bottle?”

Her features blanked. “Because it’s warm and fresh?”

“Brokers can preserve blood with magic.” I pointed to the table of bottles and pamphlets. “Take it from someone who patrols these salons. The vampires who patronize them won’t pay for shots.”

“Then what—”

“They want to feed from the vein.”

Her gaze darted to the two other novices standing at my sides, who both nodded. Then she glanced over my shoulder at the enforcers and gulped. “How many vampires would I have to… You know?”

I raised a shoulder. “Each vampire can drink up to two pints of blood in one sitting, even though all they need is a shot. Did you know it only takes three pints of blood loss for a person to die? Whatever they’re paying you isn’t worth your life.”

Silence stretched out between us, and my chest twanged with a pang of guilt. Half the Neutrals who worked in salons did so without problems. The other half fell prey to unscrupulous vampires who injected them with thrall while drinking their blood.

Thrall was one of the most addictive substances in the Supernatural World. Vampires used it to make sure their victims begged them for another bite. The worst part about thrall was that there were trace amounts in vampire bites. Over time and with regular exposure, anyone could get addicted.

“Mr. Rudo said he would provide blood replenishers,” she said in a small voice. “And there are enchanted mirrors to take us straight to the hospital.”

“The Supernatural Health Service doesn’t cover voluntary exsanguination.” I pointed to the purple ambulance parked across the road. “If you want to sell your blood, the safest way to do it is with a recognized broker.”

Her face fell. “They only pay a silver per pint.”

Richelle shoved past me and stepped in front of the Neutral. “We’ll pay quadruple that amount.”

“Hey,” I snapped.

Richelle ignored me and continued a fast-talking spiel about the benefits of using the Temple of Light as her blood broker. The young woman’s eyes rounded. She glanced at Mr. Rudo, who was too busy screaming at Mother Hecate and the male enforcer to notice he was losing a potential employee.

A sigh escaped my lips. If I pushed forward and tried to take control of the conversation, my rivalry with Richelle could chase that woman back toward the blood salon and to her possible death.

“Yana?” Willa’s voice broke me out of my musings.

I turned to meet her slate-gray eyes, which were framed by hair as black as her uniform. Her smile radiated a warmth that filled my heart and pushed away my animosity for Richelle.

Watching Willa recover from the brink of death to battle her thrall addiction had given me the strength to push through my own withdrawal. She was my inspiration.

“How’s enforcer training going?” I asked with a smile.

Willa glanced at the young woman, who Richelle had given a handful of pamphlets. “They won’t let me do anything but take notes, but it’s better than working in a shit hole like this. Is Richelle still trying to make you look bad?”

I grimaced. “As usual.”

Willa rolled her eyes. “Why don’t the other Sisters notice that she’s an attention seeker?”

Another sigh escaped my lips. “Once Mother Hecate gets an idea about someone, it’s difficult for the nuns to think anything else but the same.”

Willa parted her lips, and I was sure she made a sound, but an invisible force of magic hit me straight in the heart. The pulse between my ears thudded loud enough to fill my skull, and I reeled forward with a hand over my wimple, nearly crushing my glass pendant.

“Yana?” Willa grabbed my arm.

I clutched at my veil and turned to the other side of the boulevard.

A dark-haired vampire jogged toward us from across the road, his gaze darting from side to side and over his shoulders. He was shirtless and wore eighteenth-century blue breeches with a pair of knee-high boots.

I was a nun with little sexual experience, but that didn’t mean I was immune to male beauty. The vampire’s skin was nearly as dark as mine but with rich undertones that reminded me of coffee. His muscles looked like they’d been carved by the god of sculpture—prominent pecs, bulging biceps, and defined abs.

Gulping hard, I tried to stop my mouth from watering. How on earth could I react to something so despicable? I had never seen him before in my life, yet his presence made something deep within me stir.

The vampire shoved his way past us and headed toward the salon’s door, but one of the demons raised a massive hand and told him that they opened at six. He side-stepped, the muscles in his back rippling and bunching.

“I’ll pay double,” he said in a deep, accented voice that made my nipples tingle.

Mr. Rudo approached the vampire with his hands clasped. “Then you’ll have a long wait because these meddling nuns are scaring off the cows.”

Irritation crackled across my skin, and I ground my teeth. The last thing I needed was this handsome vampire using his enhanced speed to visit another blood salon. Mother Hecate would think I’d failed to teach him the error of his ways. I rushed toward the table, snatched a bottle of blood, and strode to the vampire.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said in my most assertive voice.

The vampire glanced down, his gaze dismissing me as insignificant.

His rejection stung like the crack of a whip, and I tried not to flinch. “If it’s blood you seek, would you like to try a bottled variety from the Temple of Light?”

The vampire’s tongue darted out to lick his full lips. Without meaning to, I drifted toward him, my lips parting, my breath turning shallow. Heat bloomed across my cheeks, and I forced myself to step back.

Over the years, I’d met every kind of blood sucker, from young ones fresh from the academy to those so ancient that they resembled statues. After seeing enough of their victims, I saw vampires’ physical beauty for what it was—a trap.

But something about this particular vampire was different, and I longed to know why.

His gaze dropped down to the bottle. “Is that O Neutral?”

“Not just any old bottled variety,” I said with an eager nod. “I’ve heard that it tastes like it’s coming straight from the vein. Best of all, it’s one hundred percent ethical. The Neutral who contributed to this vintage earned a livable wage—”

He plucked it from my fingers, twisted off the cork, and released a cloud of preserving magic. “Nice bouquet.”

My stomach plummeted to the paving stones. “You can’t just open it without paying.”

The vampire ignored me and placed the bottle to his lips. All the moisture evaporated from my throat. At that moment, my entire existence concentrated on the muscular chest rising and falling as he downed the bottle’s contents, and on the throat loosening and tightening as he gulped.

I gave myself a mental slap. What was wrong with this creature? He was only supposed to drink a shot.

“Each bottle costs two gold—”

“More.” He brushed past me toward the table, grabbed a handful of bottles, and rushed down the road with vampire speed.

“Hey,” I screamed after him.

“Oh dear.” Richelle placed an arm around my shoulders. “Once again, you’ve screwed up, and this time in front of Mother Hecate.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find the leader of the Temple of Light staring down at me with pursed lips.

Dread tumbled through my insides like an avalanche. At this rate, I would be a novice for the rest of my life. An excuse rose to the back of my throat.

Before I could tell Mother Hecate that I hadn’t given the vampire those bottles for free, the sky turned black, plunging us into darkness.