Vampire Love

Chapter One. Celina’s POV I stared down at my exam paper, but the words blurred. My hand shook as I wrote, the pen scratching loudly against the sheet. Every nerve in my body screamed, not from the test, but from the pain. My birthday. The woods. The cold air filled with screams. My step-sisters’ faces twisted with hate as they attacked me, leaving me bleeding, broken, left for dead. I had grown up in the servants’ quarters, learning to hide, to obey, to be invisible. My father, the Alpha, had never once looked at me as a daughter. My life had been a series of shadows and orders. I felt the sting on my shoulder where Cassie's hand had landed when she threw me against the wall, and the ache in my wrist from when Veyra grabbed me roughly to push me down the stairs. My sleeves barely covered the bruises, the deep cuts, the reminders of my place. I forced myself to write, forcing the tears down. Each question was a battle against my own mind, but I needed this exam. Passing meant more than grades—it was proof that I could survive anything. When I finally set my pen down, my chest felt tight. I slid the paper to the invigilator, my hands trembling slightly. Just as I was about to leave, a noise made me freeze. Footsteps. Heavy, confident, echoing in the hall. I turned, heart hammering. My step-sisters stood at the door, perfectly poised, faces composed, but my eyes caught the slight hardness in Veyra’s jaw and the flicker of Cassie’s eyes. Their smiles were polite, but I knew them too well. They were masks. Thin, brittle, deadly masks. “Greetings. We regret to disrupt the peaceful exam…but we have no choice. The Alpha asked us to fetch our sister.” Veyra said, making the exam invigilator take a step back. “Celina,” Veyra said smoothly. Her voice was calm, almost gentle. “Father… he wants to see you.” I froze. My father. The Alpha. The man who had never summoned me, never even acknowledged me outside formal appearances. I swallowed hard. “He… wants to see me?” My voice was barely above a whisper. “After all these years? Why?” Cassie stepped forward, smiling perfectly in place. “We don’t know. He didn’t say. He just asked us to bring you.” My knees felt weak. I wanted to laugh, bitter and sharp. “Bring me? You mean fetch me like a… like I’m some servant? Some object?” Cassie’s smile didn’t falter as she pulled my hand and we left the exam hall. “You’re not an object, Celina. You’re… well, you’ll see.” I felt the familiar burn in my shoulder, the bruise on my wrist throbbing. My hands itched to curl into fists. “You mean the same way you left me in the woods, bruised and bleeding? The same way you treated me as less than nothing?” My voice trembled. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be attacked by the people who are supposed to be family?” They both blinked, just slightly. A crack in the perfect mask. But only for a second. “We’ve all moved on,” Veyra said smoothly, voice calm. “You should, too.” Moved on. I laughed dryly. “You moved on. I didn’t. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up with blood on your hands—your own and someone else’s—and wonder if anyone will care enough to help you. You don’t know what it’s like to be invisible, unwanted, or hated just for existing.” Cassie shifted, just a fraction. Her smile stayed fixed. “Celina…” “No,” I said sharply. “Don’t Celina me. Don’t act like this is polite conversation. You left me to die. You attacked me. You hated me because I was born in the wrong place, to the wrong mother, and you had the right life. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.” Veyra’s hand twitched at her side, but she held it in place, the mask back in place. “We were asked to bring you. Nothing more. You should come.” I shook my head, feeling the ache in my bruises, the scar burning under my shirt. “I’m not just some child you can control. I’ve survived worse than this. I’ve survived you. And now, after all these years, suddenly Father wants to see me?” My voice rose. “Do you know how absurd that sounds?” Veyra tilted her head, still smiling, voice soft. “You’ll see. You’ll understand soon.” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. My shoulder burned under the thin fabric, the faint purple bruise standing out. My wrist ached from writing. Every mark on me told a story—of abuse, neglect, survival. They could see it, I was sure of it, and yet they hid their satisfaction behind perfect smiles. I took a slow breath. “Tell me the truth,” I said quietly, my eyes locked on them. “Is this… punishment? Some twisted game? Or is it… him? Has he finally remembered I exist, or am I just a curiosity to him now?” Cassie’s smile never wavered. “You’ll find out soon enough.” My father. I had only ever seen him at public events—tall, commanding, untouchable. And now he wanted me. Why? After everything? What could he possibly want with me? I glanced back at Veyra and Cassie. Perfect masks. Polite smiles. Polished voices. But the slightest twitch in their hands, the faint glint in their eyes, the set of their shoulders—I knew exactly what they felt. They hated me. They had always hated me. And now they were hiding it for the sake of appearances. I forced myself to keep walking. My legs felt weak, my bruises screamed under my sleeves, my chest ached with every step. Fear, anger, and curiosity churned together. I’d survived the woods. I’d survived years of neglect. I could survive this. But the question that had haunted me all my life rose to my lips again, trembling, almost breaking me. “Why… why does Father want to see me?” Veyra and Cassie exchanged a brief glance, and for a fraction of a second, their composure faltered. A crack in the mask. Then it was back. Perfect. Smooth. Deadly. “You’ll find out soon,” Veyra said. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The corridor stretched ahead, and I felt the weight of my life pressing down on me—the years of neglect, the beatings, the constant reminders that I was unwanted. But also… something unfamiliar. A flicker of hope, fear, and curiosity. I straightened my back, hiding the scars and bruises under my sleeve as best I could. I’d survived worse. I could survive this. I had to. And yet the question wouldn’t leave me, echoing in my mind with every step: Why does Father want to see me?