Blood Debt: A Reverse Harem Vampire Romance (Kingdom of Blood Book 1) by Callie Rose (sites to read books for free TXT) 📗

turn my head away before I go off on a tangent that will give me away if Anastasyia overhears. I need a distraction or something. My heart is beating way too fast.

As if in response to my silent prayer, the vampire matron claps her hands together, drawing my attention.

“Okay, girls! Straighten up, get smiles on those faces, and clear your minds. It’s dinner time.”

As she speaks, she pushes a wide set of doors open, revealing a massive banquet hall. Chandeliers drip from the ceiling, scattering light to reflect off the excessive amount of crystal glassware on the tables. Blood red roses cluster in centerpieces and wreaths, with petals scattered around like this is some kind of boudoir photo shoot. Pink and red satin chairs reflect their colors on the gold-vein marble floor, set close to ornate tables topped with delicate black cloth.

The tables are all arranged around a huge dance floor which spirals off to kiss the edge of a raised stage, where musicians are busily setting up classical instruments. I can’t tell if they’re human or vampire from this distance. I’m not sure it matters. To my left is a long, formal-looking table on a slightly raised platform. All the chairs at that table are set up on one side of it, so whoever sits there will get an uninterrupted view of the whole hall. The chair in the center looks like a throne. The rest of them are red velvet.

There’s gold clinging to things wherever I look.

It’s opulent. It’s extravagant. It’s a disgusting pit of animal violence dressed up to look civilized. More than civilized. Elite.

Jesus fucking Christ. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my fury in check. I hate every bit of this palace, but I think this dining hall just became my least favorite room in the whole place. Honestly, I almost would’ve rathered a bare room with filth on the floor and bloodstains on the wall. At least that would’ve been an accurate reflection of what this place is.

Anastasyia leads us to a table—it’s right in the middle, out in the open, practically an invitation for attack—and tells us to sit. Then she positions herself at the head of our table and gives us all a once-over, her expression serious.

“Okay, girls, before the vampires get here, I need to give you a few reminders. First, any vampire is permitted to drink from you, for now. The bonding ceremony is in three weeks, and the rules change after that. If nobody chooses to bond with you, you will remain general tributes until either your contract expires or you die, whichever comes first.”

I want to ask her how many people are actually allowed to finish out their contracts, but I don’t think I could phrase it the right way. I’m aching to blow my own cover and rally the tributes to storm the castle, but I know better. More than half of these girls are listening raptly, their eyes full of stars and their hearts beating fast. They’re into this. Really into it.

“The best thing I can tell you is to relax. It’s going to hurt the first time. Just like everything else, right?” She gives a wry smile, as if we’re all girlfriends dishing over cocktails. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll be at that table by the wall if any of you need me, but… try not to need me. Honestly, you’ll do better in the long run if you navigate on your own from the start. They sometimes like to pit tributes against one another. Don’t buy into it, it’ll just cause trouble for you. I—” She breaks off, glancing toward the high table. “Oh! Time to go. Good luck, girls!”

She strides gracefully away to join two other women at a table by the wall. I wonder if they’re other matrons in charge of keeping an eye on the female “stock.”

The tables around us start to fill up with women, other blood tributes who’ve been here longer than we have. They all have their hair pulled up away from their necks. I expect to see scars and holes on the more experienced tributes’ throats, but there aren’t any—at least, none I can pick up from this distance. If the scars are there, they’re small.

The entire room is filling up fast now, with humans and vampires alike, but I have yet to see any male tributes. I’m almost relieved. I don’t know yet how I’m going to get a message to Nathan without setting off all kinds of alarms, and I could really use a night to solve that problem.

My attention is everywhere as sounds and activity fill the large hall. I force myself to look around slowly, in no particular kind of pattern, rather than flick my eyes all over searching for weak spots. It’s harder than I thought it would be, but I keep taking deep, slow breaths, letting my tension gather in spots where it won’t be noticeable as I keep my face relaxed.

I can feel the vampires in the room, feel their gazes on me, their hunger and debauchery. I’m crouched behind enemy lines, and I’ve got to look like I enjoy the experience.

As I continue to subtly scan the room, my gaze drifts toward the high table—and my heart almost stops.

He’s attacking her.

The dark-haired vampire sitting on the throne is clutching a scantily-clad woman in a hungry embrace, his mouth buried in her neck.

My stomach twists. Every fiber of my being itches to take him down right here and now so I can save that poor girl. But then she moans. I snap my attention to her face. Her mouth is open, red and full, her brow creased, her arms twisting to grip the chair. She’s writhing, yes… but not to escape.

Holy fucking shit, she’s about to come.

My twisted stomach flips in a weird way, a new way, pouring lava down my insides, melting me to my core. I don’t even recognize the feeling at first. I don’t