Blood Bound [Book 1 of the Bound series]

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Fourteenth Blood

“For what?” he asked.

“For doing everything that I did to you.” She replied, taking his hand in hers. “Remember when I told you that what draws me to you isn’t your blood?” she asks and he nods, “it is something stronger, Roman. And it is not in my control.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “But what I know is that it is bad for you. I am dangerous.”

Roman frowned again, “You need to stop thinking about yourself like that, Evette. Sure, you’ve killed people, you show no remorse in murder, but it all can be changed. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

This man was the most stubborn human she has ever met. And her little doe was pretty stubborn.

“Student,” he pointed at herself, “Teacher,” she pointed at him, “Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. What I am saying is you can change your way of feeding. I know that something happened to you, and hence you are the way you are, but not all humans are bad, Evette. There are good ones too.”

Evette huffed helplessly.

“I just wanted to apologize to you, Roman. And you tell the exact same thing you said a few minutes ago.” She chuckles.

He smiled, “Well, how do I get it inside this ancient head of yours?” he asked, tapping her head and Evette gasped dramatically.

“This old woman is hurt, boy!” she said, both of them sharing a hearty laugh. But to her astonishment, Roman didn’t seem to stop laughing. He laughed, and then looked up at her, bursting into his piles again. “Stop!” she urged him, as she herself couldn’t control her sniggers.

“O-Old woman,” he called out, cackling again, and fell back on his bed, his legs curling up.

Evette crawled up further into his bed, and lied beside his laughing self, admiring her teacher who was cackling up like an idiot after calling her an old woman.

Little boy!

Her evil fingers pinched and curled the skin on his tummy, and this time Roman howled further as she began tickling him. He squirmed underneath her, unable to control his laughter that literally lit up the whole room and her world.

When was the last time she laughed like this? When was the last time she found herself smiling due to pure happiness? A hundred years or more back, perhaps.

“S-Stop,” he choked out, whilst squirming. His weak hands tried to push her strong ones away, but Evette was quick to pin both of them above his head, continuing her sweet torture.

“P-Please! Eve, stop!”

She froze.


“W-What did you call me?”

“Eve, my stomach hurts from laughing.” He giggled, unaware of her fallacy. “Is something wrong?”

She didn’t answer, and instead, got off him, settling herself on the other side of the bed. Her golden irises were focused on the white fabric of the comforter, mind sank in her century-old memories of being called her nickname.

Only one person called her that.

And her voice kept echoing inside Evette’s head.

Evette closed her eyes, trying to block out the voice that rang inside her head.

Eve. Eve. Eve.

Her jovial voice sang, the visions of her running around on the grass in joy, flashing before Evette’s very eyes. Her blue skirt flew in the air as she ran, and Evette remembered slowing herself down just to see her doe win.

My sweet little doe.

“Evette? You’re crying?”

The vampiress opened her eyes, the amber ones falling into worried blues. They weren’t bloodshot like it would be to a human, but instead, was clear except for the salty droplets of tears that flooded inside them.

A lone tear slipped down her cheek.

He can’t see me like this.

“I can’t stay,” she choked out, before hopping off the bed. She turned away from him, and wiped her eyes, not wanting him to see her weak.

“What happened?” he asked. But she didn’t reply, and instead, rushed out the door, and before Roman knew, jumped out of the broken window and disappeared outside.

He stood there, bewildered about her sudden reaction.

I just called her Eve.

He looked out the window and saw nothing but the city, and the piece of broken glass that stuck around the frames. His apartment was a mess, and with an unsure sigh, he began cleaning up the debris, despite being weak.

He ate a lot of food and began taking his supplements, to fill up his lost nutrients. A while later, Roman went to bed even though his apartment still remained a disaster.


The vampiress rushed to her home through the dark woods, the branches and leaves creaking and breaking underneath her feet as she sprinted.

Evette was breaking inside. Once the door flew open at her arrival, the large board of wood, thrown broken inside, she let out a sigh.

But that was only the beginning.

She smashed the vases and glasses that adorned the interiors of her house in a rage, screaming at the fates for taking her doe away from her.

Why? Why does it have to be so cruel?

The last time she had such an episode was a hundred and ten years back when she went on a killing spree when she lost her doe. She ripped off her victims, leaving a trail of body parts, up and down all over European coastal borders.

She remembers that being the worst part of her life when she had lost all hope in living. Why has such a cursed and terrible eternity of life been bestowed upon her, when she has done nothing wrong? Why couldn’t she have anybody to love? Why was her little doe taken away from her?

Her rebellion against the nemesis was all the killings she had done. It was what drove her into the cruelty of slaughter, for sport rather than her thirst for blood. She was no different than a feral vampire, except that she wasn’t ugly and grey in color, and didn’t roar in anger when she saw a victim. But she did kill them ruthlessly, draining their blood and ripping their heads off if she felt like it.

Roman reminded her of her doe. He understood her and saw the broken-hearted girl, that lay beneath her sinister mask. He brought out her soft side, which only her doe had seen ever since she was turned, about two hundred and sixty-nine years ago.

How these young and fragile humans able to do that, she never knew.

But she had to stay away from Roman. Her beauty and nature attracted her to him, and despite all her warnings, she was a deadly danger that he sought. And he was a satyr, who drew her to him, and together, she was sure they wouldn’t last.

As much as her arms itched to hold and caress his body, and relish his warmth, she has to let him go before they escalate to anything more than what they already are.

She cannot suffer another heartbreak.

She cannot endure that intense sorrow.

She cannot lose anyone precious.

She cannot afford to love anymore.

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