The Vampire King’s Captive

BRAN

Damn, but the man had a shit ton of guards, Bran thought as he wiped the blood from his sword on the dead man’s shirt, before continuing down the hall.

The house was huge with several wings. He’d gone through some, checking the rooms in search of Maria, but he hadn’t found her in anyone. Instead, he’d found a group of guards more than ready to chop his head off.

Too bad they were the ones that had gotten their heads chopped.

He was lucky, though, that the men hadn’t raised alarm. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t given them the chance to. He’d descended upon them before they could even raise their swords and the frozen looks of shock on their faces could account for that.

He reached another door in the hallway and pushed it open, frowning when he still didn’t see Maria. Where the hell was she?

There were still a few rooms that he hadn’t searched but in all honesty, Bran was starting to doubt that she was in any of them.

What if she wasn’t in one of the rooms?

She hated her father, right? And she’d gone with him unwillingly. He probably wouldn’t keep her in a room where the chances of escape were higher, especially now that she’d been taken from him before.

What if he’d kept her somewhere where she wouldn’t be able to escape?

He decided to place himself in Ariti’s shoes. Where would he keep someone if he didn’t want them to escape?

He froze as the answer came to him.

A cell.

Jumping into action, Bran made his way down the dark staircase, hoping not to run into any guard that would raise alarm.

His wish was short-lived, however, when he turned a corner down in what he hoped was the dungeon and bumped into a few guards. They shouted with both shock and anger and they were a lot less quieter than the few he’d killed upstairs, groaning and grunting as his sword cut through them.

Seriously, where did Ariti find these weaklings he called men?Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Bran killed them in no time and again, wiped his sword on them. It was something he’d learnt when he was much younger.

He hurried down the corridor as his sharp ear picked up the sound of two voices. They were female and not only that, he was getting a strong sense of familiarity from them.

Could one of them be Maria?

A door sat at the end of the corridor and Bran sheathed his sword, moving to open the door just as a body slammed into his from behind, causing his grip on the door handle to slip.

Angry that he was being delayed, Bran turned around and gripped the man by his collar then slammed him into the door. Once, then twice, making sure that his head hit the iron door on each slam, before dropping the man to the ground.

Bran didn’t have to check. The man was dead.

He wrenched the door open and let it slam against the wall, his eyes making a sweep of the room.

“Vampire?” A throaty, familiar voice called, filled with surprise, just as another small, familiar voice asked, “Brother?”

There were a few times in Bran’s life when he’d been rendered speechless. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times.

Now, however, was one of those times.

Bran froze, unable to comprehend or believe what his eyes were seeing.

A row of cells lined the wall on the other side of the room and on two of those cells, side by side, were Maria and… and his sister.

Maria sat on a bench on the cell to the left and his sister whom he hadn’t seen in ages, sat on the bench on the cell on the right.

His heart quickened, beating at a fast pace that he was certain if it went on for much longer, would give him a heart attack.

How was it possible that after months of searching for her, after the length he’d gone to get her back, she was just sitting in this cell, waiting for him to come rescue her?

“Is it really you?” She asked again, her eyes wide and shock-filled. She was probably just as in shock as Bran was, if not more.

If he was taking it this way, then he could only imagine how hard it must be for her to process.

He took a step forward, saw how rubbery his legs were, and forced strength into them before taking another step.

“Iris?” He asked in a voice laden with disbelief, making his way over to her cell slowly.

She leapt from her bench and hurried over to the gate, gripping it, and Bran was sure that if she could pass right through it just to get to him, she would.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she whispered, tears springing into her eyes, and just like he used to do to her when she was little, he wanted to pull her into a hug and tell her that everything would be okay. But that damned gate prevented him from doing it.

“Neither can I,” he told her, then observed the gate.

It was held in place by a single lock. If he could break it, then she was out of there.

He leveled her with a soft, yet firm look. “Step back.”

She nodded and hurried back and Bran took two steps backward, braced himself and rammed his foot hard into the lock. It shattered immediately and he pushed it open for her to walk through.

She didn’t just walk through; she ran and leapt into his arms, hugging him so tightly, she almost cut off his air-flow, but Bran didn’t mind. He hugged her back just as fiercely, placing his chin on top of her head and giving her back reassuring pats.

She sobbed against him, wetting his shirt and the sight of her crying made Bran hurt. His heart ached in his chest and he struggled to reduce the shaking in his arms.

“It’s okay, Iris,” he soothed her. “We’re okay now.”

He felt her nod and also noticed that her tears had reduced to snifles.

He finally had his sister back. She was fine. She was okay.

But why did he feel like he was forgetting something?