Under the vampire Lord's protection Chapter 1: Deal?

Rumors spread far and wide that no one who ever sought refuge by knocking on the Eleazars' doors had been turned away.

Arabella desperately hoped those tales weren't just empty gossip.

With that in mind, she dashed ahead through a forest so dense that moonlight barely pierced its canopy.

By that point, her tear-streaked face matched the chill that had frozen her feet numb; it was astonishing they still bore her forward. Clutching her gown's skirt in one hand, she batted away branches with the other. Countless scratches already burned her skin, but the adrenaline surging through her blood made them negligible.

Only when her dress hem snagged on thorny vines did she halt. For the first time since the chase began, Arabella glanced back, relieved to hear no more Kingsmen's shouts and spot no torchlight flickering in the distance.

She yanked her gown free with all her strength until it tore. Without pause, Arabella bolted onward.

"Just a little longer," she urged herself, and as the forest's edge loomed visible amid her tears, a faint smile ghosted her lips. Gulping deep breaths, she eased her pace.

There it rose before her, the Eleazars' mansion, unguarded by fences save for a distant gate, grander and more imposing than her wildest dreams.

Instinctively, her hand rose to grasp the golden locket at her chest. Tremors seized Arabella anew as her smile faded, struck by the reality of approaching a vampire's threshold.

Yet retreat was impossible. Scanning left and right around the estate, no sentries appeared, though an eerie sense of being observed clung to her.

Much to admire lay before her, but like every sore inch of her body that night, Arabella forced it from her mind and pressed on. Nearing the manor, its glow danced in her sparkling emerald eyes.

Hand raised to knock, endless moments stretched as she weighed her fate, but ultimately, no alternatives remained.

Her initial rap was timid. A second followed, then a third, yet before the fourth could fall, the door swung open.

"Yes?" A youthful woman in an opulent maid's uniform greeted Arabella with a warm smile.

Though she tried to mirror it, Arabella's effort twisted into a pained grimace. Fresh tears traced her soaked cheeks. Her mouth parted to speak, only to snap shut wordless.

"I... Just," she tried again, stammering futilely until defeat set in; with a sigh, she whispered, "Help...,"

The maid's gaze swept over her, polite smile turning to worry. Frowning slightly, she widened the door and gestured inside, "Please, come inside,"

Stepping over the threshold, soothing warmth enveloped her completely. Unable to resist, Arabella hugged her arms and rubbed them vigorously.

She flinched at the door's decisive click as the maid secured it behind her.

"This way," the maid said, gliding past to lead her onward.

Wide-eyed, Arabella ventured deeper into the manor. Candlelight cast a soft amber glow, shimmering off silver accents everywhere: wall ornaments, vases, chandeliers, plant stands, and picture frames all gleamed in that metallic sheen. Only the pristine red carpet underfoot disrupted the theme.

"Wait here, please," the maid instructed before vanishing.

They had passed through grand doors into a spacious chamber adorned similarly with silver finery.

Her gaze locked on a large portrait above the fireplace, where cheerful flames danced within.

It captured a stunningly beautiful woman, appearing in her thirties—though as a vampire, her true age was anyone's guess.

Seated gracefully, her raven-black silk hair cascaded to the edge of her violet dress.

Those ink-dark eyes bored into Arabella's very being, eliciting a deeper chill.

Even as mere canvas, the portrait's intense stare forced Arabella's eyes away. They drifted to the adjacent, smaller-yet-impressive painting beside it.

Silver locks framed piercing diamond eyes unlike any Arabella had beheld on a man. His lustrous hair brushed just shy of broad shoulders. He posed tall and commanding in finely embroidered attire that accentuated his powerful build.

"Mesmerizing, isn't he?" A cool feminine voice yanked her focus from the artwork.

Arabella gasped sharply, spinning to face an elegant lady sipping from a delicate teacup in an armchair, "Even amongst our kind, he's always been a special one," she continued evenly.

Arabella harbored no doubt. It was the portrait's subject herself, flawlessly matching as if painted moments prior.

After gulping repeatedly, words finally emerged, "Lady Persephone Eleazar?" she whispered shakily.

The lady placed her cup on its saucer on the nearby table, issuing a command without looking up, "Sit, child,"

Head bowed, Arabella complied swiftly, sinking into the plush seat beside her.

"State your full name and business," the woman demanded.

"My name is Arabella Henrietta Sterling, my Lady. I've come seeking shelter under your roof," Arabella paused briefly before rushing, "Only if you'll have me, of course,"

"Sterling, you say?" the woman probed.

Arabella's eyes flicked up. The lady's brows nearly furrowed, lending her a doubtful expression.

"Yes," Arabella breathed.

As their stares locked longer, Arabella's heart plummeted, her dreams of sanctuary crumbling. She braced for eviction any second.

Lady Persephone's gaze roamed Arabella's form, settling on the golden locket.

From her sleeve emerged a fresh handkerchief, offered forth.

"Wipe the blood from your face and hands with this," she directed calmly.

Arabella dabbed her wounds obediently, the sting flaring now that flight's rush had ebbed.

"Give it here," Lady Persephone held out her palm.

The moment it touched her hand, she lifted it to her nose, savoring the blood's aroma leisurely.

Arabella had witnessed vampires at the Sterling manor over the years.

They conducted affairs with her father, Reuben Sterling, appearing utterly human save for nocturnal habits.

It unnerved her to see Lady Persephone's eyes nearly flutter back in ecstasy as she savored the scent, fingers caressing the cloth.

"Dare I say, you've lived a cozy and comfortable life thus far," Lady Persephone remarked, composure returning, "You've never had to worry about good food on your plates or clean water in your cups," she paused as silence held, then pressed, "You are a noble man's daughter, aren't you, girl? What is it or who is it you seek shelter from?" Her silken voice echoed powerfully.

"I...," Arabella twisted her fingers, stammering without progress.

Noting her distress, Lady Persephone inhaled deeply, soothing, "You won't be turned away, child. Please, answer my question,"

"I was to be escorted to the royal palace this evening after the prince had declared me his," Arabella blurted in a rush.

"And what are the stakes?" Lady Persephone retrieved her teacup, "How many lives depend upon your union to the prince?"

"None!" Flushed by her outburst, Arabella dropped her gaze, murmuring softer, "I wasn't to be married to the prince, I was to be a mere piece in his collection of women,"

"What of your family? Won't they suffer the consequences of your actions tonight?" Lady Persephone pursued.

"I am deeply saddened to say that my mother is no longer of this world. My brother fled the kingdom long ago and I have no way of even knowing if he still breathes. As for my father, for as long as the king lives, no one shall harm a hair on his head, not even the prince," Arabella's voice faded to a whisper as she spoke.

"Rest assured, you are safe here, but the Eleazars run no charity. You must earn your keep around here,"

"Of course!" Arabella's eyes met Lady Persephone's once more.

"I must say, it isn't every day that human nobility comes knocking on my doors seeking shelter," the woman chuckled, "State your age,"

"Twenty-six, my Lady,"

"I'd like you to be the sole blood provider for my son, Arabella,"

Lady Persephone's declaration froze Arabella in place, "Blood provider?" she echoed faintly.

"Yes, Blood of your quality is not easy to come by around here and as I said before, even among his own, Silas has always been special. You wouldn't see a problem with that, would you?" Lady Persephone smiled.

"No, of course not," Arabella shook her head vigorously before timidly asking, "How often will he..." her voice trailed.

"Fear not, child. We won't drain you," Lady Persephone chuckled again, "In my experience, a young woman of your age and caliber should be able to spare 500 milliliters or a pint of blood every two weeks. So, what say you, Arabella, do we have a deal?"

Arabella offered a brief smile and nodded, "Yes, my Lady,"