Chained By The Ruthless Vampire Lord

Prologue It was his eyes that did it. It was his eyes that enraptured her. She had heard of eyes like these, but she could not remember where. Eyes like two gleaming silver coins, like the half arch of a crescent moon in the sky just before she had to start the Moon dance. It was his eyes. The man in question had shoulder length hair. Dark, very, very dark. Hair that shone with oil. Even from across the room, Khloe could smell it on him, the sweetness of scent that no man had the right to be wearing. But this man was.

And it made Khloe want to bury her face in the side of his neck and inhale, even when it would have be more prudent if she sunk her teeth into his neck instead. Prudent, because she was tied in a chair before him, silver manacles attached to her legs and hands, holding her to the chair. The cuff were tight. Almost too tight, such that if she squirmed or moved even the slightest bit, they cut into her wrists and ankles. Prudent, because there two men standing guards at both sides of the chair, watching her like hounds, watching her like she was a hound. Prudent, because the man with the sliver eyes was looking at her like she was something to be studied, to be picked apart and examined, his gaze two moons burning into her skin with an intensity that the moon did not have. Khloe knew that look, she had seen it a time too many at home, in the West, amongst her own people. Some looked at her and spat, disgust ill concealed by their features. Others on the other hand looked at her like the man was doing. People who showed their hate and anger were often like barking hounds, the sage had once told her: it did not matter how loud they howled, they never bit. But people like this man, with the beautifully gaunt face and the thin fingers, they were often more lethal. Khloe had learnt earlier not to trifle with the latter. She had long since learned to evade them. Except when they refused to be evade. The moon-eyed man had refused, by all indications. He was standing over her seated and bound figure, running his thin pale fingers over a blade. The black was black, oily black just like his hair and clothes. 'What is your name?' He asked. His tone was just as black and dead as his garbs. She stayed silent, watching him warily. 'If you do not tell me, my friends here may have to beat it out of you.' He said, gesturing at the two enormous men standing stoic at her sides. 'We do not want that now, do we?' The man made the threat without so much as a glimmer of anger, or a trace of menace. In fact, he could have been talking about sweet tea how he suggested violence with ease. Khloe shook her head vigorously. Her throat was dry and parched. She could have asked for a drink of water, but the man and his 'friends' did not seem like the type to honour such a request. At least, not until she had given them what they wanted. She licked her lips and said, 'Khloe. My name is Khloe. Khloe Hamilton.' 'Khloe Hamilton,' the man let the words slid over his tongue. Khloe shivered. In his mouth, her name sounded different. Exquisite. Everything about him was exquisite. Even the room they was in. She had never seen the like. 'What is yours?' She asked. The silver-eyed man and my bulky guards seemed taken aback by the question. They were not used to this, she surmised. Nobody could be. It was not everyday someone bound bound hand and leg thought themselves in the position to make demands. She was surprised too, that after two days rotting in a cell with little water and less food, she still had some defiance left in her. 'That is not how this works.' The man said smoothly, cooly. He did not bristle as another man would have. She said, 'It is if you want me to answer your questions. Is it not courteous to introduce yourself on your side of the boundary?' 'So you did come from the other side.' His moon eyes were in full bloom, shining with an unnatural light. Khloe kept herself from squirming under that unnervingly steady gaze. 'Is it such a surprise?' 'I suppose it would have been a surprise at all about a hundred hears ago,' he said, looking at her meaningfully. 'You are the first to cross the fold in over a hundred years, Khloe Hamilton, if what you say is true.' Khloe gasped. That could not be right. Seeing the shock on her face, the man smiled for the first time since their meeting. It was part smile, part smirk, that grin of his. As malevolent as a smile could be. Yet, he was beautiful. His feature transformed when he smiled, and the moon in his eyes became stars, twinkling. 'I am Melvin,' he introduced himself. 'Melvin Asgard.' Melvin Asgard. She knew that name. She tried to remember, and for a short time her memory stalled. Then it came to her in a rush. Melvin Asgard, son of Oreburn Asgard, king of Asgard. 'No,' Melvin said now. He was so close tha she could smell the scent on him properly. Almonds and vinegar. 'My father died a lifetime ago. I rule Asgard now, Khloe. So you do well to answer my questions.' Khloe recoiled. It was as though he had plucked the thought out of her mind. It was his eyes in the end. It was his eyes that confirmed it. Eyes like the half arch of the moon, like beaten silver. The eyes of a vampire. Eyes that now belonged Melvin Asgard, a vampire who could worm his way into a person's mind and poke around if they stared into his eyes too long. Khloe realized too late. She shut her eyes. But she could still hear the swishing sound of his knife as he played with it. Fear curdled in her stomach. Chapter One KHLOE A banquet was what it was. There was no other way to describe it. It was a splendid one, too, as expected. There were rosettes standing lonely and beautiful in glass vases. The hall had a high ceiling, white, such that if you looked above you would experience a feeling similar to that of staring at the heavens on a cloudy day. Below, rugs of fine fur adorned the black marble floor. Candles filled every inch of the halls, glowing a kindly, warm yellow, each one standing on solid metal ornate candle holders. The light from the candle fire reflected onto the glossy floor, and when one looked at it, the black marbles resembled a river of oil afire. It was beautiful. Fire was such a beautiful thing that if you did not know what it was, what it could do, you let it draw you to it. Khloe had once seen a moth drawn to a flame. It burned in seconds, leaving behind the smell of singed ants. That was what she felt about Caleb. He was like fire, burning everything thing he touched. Every girl in the town wanted him in that same way every child wanted . With a feverish hunger that could not easily be tamed. He was the Alpha's son after all. That made him the next best thing. When his father died, he would be the alpha, taking over his father's seat as the new ruler of the Blood moon pack by right of succession. Even though Tybald, his father and Alpha of the Blood moon pack was still strong and formidable, the prospect of being the next alpha mate was still a mouth watering thought for some. Khloe was not among their numbers. She had not wanted to attend the birthday feast that eventually became tha banquet, but the sage had made her. It would be unacceptable, the sage had said, eyes crinkled and angry, for her to be absent at such an event. All of the blood moon pack would be there in the flesh to see Caleb choose his mate. It would be completely unacceptable, he said. The prospect of being present at Caleb's appointment festival, the prospect of being among those who he would choose would have made some other girl's heart beat faster, but it did not excite Khloe. It only made her more angry than she already was. And she was already very angry. Enraged. She had been ever since Adolph died. He was the old sage, the one who picked her up from the streets and feed her, a hungry, overlooked orphan. Ever since he passed on and a new sage was appointed, her life had gotten from hard to impossible. Now, the sage was trying to make her go to inconsequential festival. Adolph would never have let that happen. 'Why?' She had snapped at the sage. 'Why should I go to a place where I am not wanted. Or am I now obligated to choose Caleb's mate for him as well as protect the pack?' 'You will appear because I say so, and that is the end of it.' The man growled. 'What more do you want from me?' She said sarcastically. 'Everything.' The man ground out, his teeth clenched. 'Everything there is.' It was the sage's usual mood when speaking to Khloe: teeth pressed together in a snarl, his expression pinched, angry. He hated her, Khloe knew. He hated her like the rest of the Blood moon pack. Only Adolph had thought differently of her, only he had treated her like a person. But he would also have wanted her to obey the new sage as much as she disliked the man. So Khloe went. The sun was slowly beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the world red, amber and pink as it descended. The halls of the Tybald's house were larger than life. Larger than anything that Khloe had ever seen. She could bet that it was possible to get one's self lost in the labyrinth of a house. Khloe had seen Tybald's house plenty of times, its sprawling courtyard, the sycamore trees and weeping willows that formed rows lining both sides of the flagstone road leading into the building. She had seen it plenty of times from the outside, but Khloe had never been inside the manor. In truth, in all the twenty years of her life, she had never been into the houses of many. It was commonplace for people tpo turn you away when you were an outcast. A cursed wolf, like they had called her once, a long time ago. Long before she saved them. But as she walked towards the hall, the guards posted at the door, tall bronze coloured men wearing breastplates and swords they did not really need at their hips, did not bar her way. They stayed still as statues and let her pass. A small crowd of people had been walking on the path as she approached the steps. They parted to let her pass, like a field of wheat parts before a farmhand. The chattering and whispering that followed was scant, small, like the buzzing of bees, low enough that it could be ignored. And Khloe had had years to practice how to tune out gossip, how to pretend her ears did not hear what people said about her. 'Cursed wolf.' 'Dog.' 'Wolf's bane.' 'Did you hear she killed her mother coming out?' 'Her father starved to death while she watched.' 'I would never wish such a cursed child on my enemy.' Khloe had heard it all. After nearly fourteen years, she had mastered herself. She no longer flinched when someone, a disgusted mother, a frustrated trader, yelled at her, calling her a disease. Instead, Khloe smiled at them. Inside the hall, as she stepped in and glimpsed the single roses and the candle sticks standing lofty and bright, the hall went quiet for a moment. It all went so deathly silent that she was certain that if a pin had fallen to marble floor at the time, she would have heard it. Then the moment passed, and the chattering began again. The festival had officially began.