THERE was only one option that she had at her age.
Become a Blood Bride.
To leave her home in Vermont and head over two-thousand miles away to Aberdeen, Washington.
It's been ten years since her mother became ill. Medical expenses were piling up and there were days that Ophelia couldn't afford to put food on the table, let alone pay such outrageous medical bills.
Not many at the age of nineteen would jump into marriage, but she knew that this would be the only way to save her mother from debt. A job at a grocery store did nothing to put a dent in the bills. She had nowhere else to turn.
Becoming a Blood Bride had been her own decision. It was an arranged marriage; a blind pairing. Ophelia had no idea who she would be married to. All she knew was that she was giving her life and chastity up to a vampire in exchange for a large sum of money. Money that would save she and her mother from tremendous debt.
Ophelia had mailed letters to the Cross manor after she had seen the offer online. Sketchy as it may have been, she was desperate. They required information on her financial situation as well as information about herself, none of which was too invasive. Things such as her physical appearance, her age, and other little bits about her personal life.
Once they accepted her offer out of the hundreds of other girls, Ophelia cried tears of happiness as she lied to her mother, telling her that she had gotten accepted to college through a scholarship. If only it were that simple.
College had become a distant thought in Ophelia's life, unable to afford it, even with financial aid. Her education had long been placed on the back burner while she cared for her ailing mother.
Before she left, she promised her mother she would do work-study to help pay the bills. As usual, her mother reassured her, reminding Ophelia how proud she was of her. She told her to enjoy college to its fullest and not to worry about her. How could she not? She loved her mother dearly, her mother being the only person she had left in her family.
So now, Ophelia was seated in a dark car with tinted windows, fiddling with the hem of her lacy, white dress.
Was she afraid to commit to this?
Indeed, she was. Any young woman would be petrified, moving to another state away from her mother, especially knowing this was a vampire she was being married to. A vampire that could torment her and do as they wished. She's heard stories of women who committed to being Blood Brides, and they were enslaved for the remainder of their lives. They became emotionless drones. She prayed to God every night that this wouldn't be the case here.
Whoever she was going to marry, she prayed that they would be merciful. She had left her only family behind and God knows if she'll ever see her again. If she doesn't, she at least hoped she'd never have to worry about money.
Ophelia clutched her gloved hand, exhaling shakily.
She would be okay. She had to believe that. This wasn't about her. This was about her mother and taking care of her, just as she had done for her for the past ten years.
"Miss White, we have arrived." The driver spoke. Ophelia peered around at her surroundings. She gazed through the car window, past the bare trees and shrubs, to the large home in which she would be staying.
Ophelia felt her insides curl and her heart race wildly at the sight of the intimidating beige mansion.
There was no going back now.
The slam of the car door made her flinch, the driver coming around to her side to open her door courteously.
He held out his hand to her, yet Ophelia couldn't will herself to move. In fact, her chestnut brown eyes had welled up with tears and her lip began to quiver.
Come on, Ophelia. Be brave.
"Miss White, it is understandable that you are frightened. Rest assured, your experience here won't be unpleasant." Ophelia licked the tears that had trailed down her cheeks and onto her ruby red lips.
"Thank you." Her small voice hushed, giving the driver a gentle smile as she held out a shaking hand to him, stepping out of the car. Ophelia shivered, tightening the grasp around her thin, black coat.
The driver placed her suitcase on the concrete and pulled up the handle.
"When you get to the front doors, ring the bell and someone will guide you once you are inside the home." Ophelia dipped her head, keeping her eyes locked onto the driver as he got back into his car and drove off, leaving her alone in front of the mansion. She turned back around to face the mansion, wiping her face, and staining her white gloves with black mascara. She huffed in frustration.
So much for being presentable. She probably looked like a mess.
Ophelia took hold of the handle on her suitcase and dragged it behind her, the wheels getting stuck every so often as she approached the large manor doors.
She sucked in a breath, lifting her trembling hand to press the bell. Her finger wavered over the doorbell, questioning her decision.
"It's too late, Ophelia. They already chose you." She mumbled to herself.
She was startled when the door had flown open before she rang the bell. She took a few steps back with wide eyes, nearly tripping over her luggage.
"Oh, Ophelia. It's you. I wasn't expecting your arrival until later this evening." His warm coffee eyes crinkled when he smiled, his brilliant beam framing his features perfectly. Ophelia stopped staring at him when she panicked, beginning to rifle through her luggage.
"I'm sorry, did I get the time wrong? I hadn't meant to show up early, I just didn't want to be rude and show up late and I-" The man before her chuckled.
"It's alright." He reassured. "Though you haven't caught Master Cross at the best of times." Ophelia was going to apologize once more, the man interrupting her. "Do come in."
Ophelia thanked him, accepting his invitation to come inside.
"Please excuse the mess." Ophelia looked around at the spacious interior, taking in the white walls and cream marble floors. The first thing her sights scrutinized when she walked in was a shiny white staircase in the center of the entryway. She scanned the room as the man guided her towards the stairs.
"It's so beautiful here." She said in complete awe, her fingers grazing a vase of white lilies; a centerpiece of a table near the double doors of the entrance.
The man bent down and picked up papers scattering the glossy floors.
"I'm sure Master Cross will appreciate the compliment." Ophelia realized how rude it was of her to be standing around while this man was picking up papers. Having been raised to be polite, her good-natured heart made her bend down and begin to collect the papers as well.
"It's alright, I can pick these up." Ophelia took the remaining papers in her arms, holding them out to the man.
"It's no trouble at all."
"Tobias!" A deep voice made Ophelia jump causing the papers to flutter from her hands. She looked at him apologetically as he gathered the papers once more and straightened.
"Yes, Master Cross, I'm downstairs gathering the papers you so kindly tossed onto the floor." When nothing else was said, Tobias ran his fingers through his russet curls with a heavy sigh.
"Come along. I'm sure Master Cross would love to meet his future bride." The words made her body tense. Nonetheless, that was her purpose here. She'd just need to adjust to it.
Ophelia took hold of her luggage and began dragging it behind her, when Tobias stopped her.
"How rude of me. My sincerest apologies. Allow me." He took her luggage and Ophelia hadn't gotten a chance to protest before he began marching up the white staircase, forcing Ophelia to trail behind him. She felt as if she stayed in one place for too long, she'd be swallowed up in the home. This place was so big. Bigger than any home she had ever seen.
She tailed behind Tobias, down a narrow hall to a cherry wood door, similar to the ones that made up the entrance of the house. He turned the knob and opened the door, leaving Ophelia slack-jawed to a man standing by the large French window. She studied his appearance, her eyes staring at the pair of black slacks he wore, drawing up to the blue buttoned-down shirt that was tucked into his pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his finely sculpted arms folded over his defined chest. He turned his head to meet the two of them at the door.
His striking steel blue eyes captivated her. Such a light shade of blue that resembled the sky on a gloomy day when the sun was hidden behind clouds.
"Master Cross, the presence you sensed outside was Miss Ophelia. Your Blood Bride." The man's stoic expression made her uneasy, his vacant stare shooting daggers at Tobias.
"She wasn't the presence I sensed. I sensed a strong presence and strong does not fit the description of that child, and that most certainly better not be the Blood Bride you chose for me." Tobias remained silent, Ophelia's heart panging at the insults he indirectly spewed at her.
When Tobias said nothing in response, Mr. Cross seemed to get angry, placing his hands on the mahogany desk that was piled with loose papers. A few strands of his raven black hair that was neatly brushed back to fit his spiff appearance, fell forward into his eyes.
"Tobias. I asked you for an acceptable bride with strong blood, and this is what you bring me? A useless child?" Tobias opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when the man barked a command at her, locking his cold gaze with her timid one.
"Pick up your suitcase." Ophelia gulped, reaching for the suitcase Tobias had placed down in front of her to lift. She lifted the case a few inches off the ground before she strained her muscles and hurt herself. She dropped the suitcase and some of the contents spilled out onto the floor in front of her.
"She can't even carry her own suitcase, how will her blood serve me in the war, Tobias? Explain to me." Ophelia bravely stepped forward to save Tobias the trouble of speaking on her behalf.
"Blood is blood. I am a healthy woman and have enough supply to last you a while as long as I am properly fed." The man tilted his head back with a stomach-churning grin.
"Have you fed on blood for the past five hundred years?"
"Well no, but-"
"Then who are you to say there is no difference, little girl?" Ophelia shoulders sagged in vanquish.
"Get out. The two of you. I have important work to do and now I have less time no thanks to this petty interruption." Tobias took her suitcase again.
"Where would you like Miss Ophelia to stay?"
"Not here. Send her home." Tobias bowed and pressed his hand to her back to usher her out.
Ophelia refused to move. She couldn't go home.
Ophelia stepped out of Tobias' grasp, her chestnut eyes brimming with tears.
"I can't go home." The man raised his brow, his lips forming a line.
"If travel is a problem, I can have one of my drivers to take you home." Ophelia's heart sped up in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
"No, no, you don't understand. I need this. My mother needs this."
"And? So do the hundreds of other women that sent in applications. Do you believe you're special?" Ophelia put her hand over her heart and began to count the beats to calm herself.
One...two...three...four...
Her heart was beating at the pace a butterfly fluttered its wings. She couldn't keep up.
"I-I can't go home. Please just give me a chance. I'll do anything. I know I'm young, but I can-" She swallowed the lump in her throat, her head hanging as the room began to spin. "cook and clean." She finished, catching her breath. She couldn't go home. If she went home, her mother wouldn't be able to afford treatment. She would die, and Ophelia would be left to fend for herself in this world. Nothing frightened her more than being alone.
"Tobias call Everly and tell him to return this girl home." Ophelia leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes tightly as her stomach began to toss.
"I don't feel so well. I feel faint." She hushed, her hand pressing her forehead.
Oh no. Please not now. This can't happen.
"Don't make an excuse, girl. You're leaving right now." She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn't trying to fool him, the bile rising in her throat faster than she could get her words out. She was forced forward, where her breakfast was retched onto the spotless floor in a splatter.
She tried to stop her stomach from causing any more trouble by clasping her hand over her mouth, but vomit gushed through the crevices of her fingers.
She had always reacted this way when she was nervous. Class presentations, social situations, anything that made her nervous or stressed, made her body writhe in discomfort.
She gasped and heaved for air, the awful stench of vomit making blood rush to her cheeks. She hadn't meant to do that.
Completely embarrassed, she kept her blurry gaze to her chunk filled sickness.
"Master Cross, now that you've distressed the girl, I think it would only be decent of you to let her rest here for a while." Mr. Cross pinched the bridge of his nose, with a heavy sigh before dipping his head.
"Fine. Allow her to rest in the guest room. Now get that cleaned up and let me work." He muttered, relenting to Tobias' wishes. Tobias gave Mr. Cross a slight bow before he took Ophelia's clean hand and guided her out of the room.
So much for first impressions. That was awfully disgusting.
After that scene, she truly believed that she had made everything worse, then again had she really had a chance in the first place?
_________________
He clutched his desk, keeping his eyes clenched shut as he tried to rid the headache that child caused him with her presence.
It wasn't that she was obnoxious. It was that her scent was so intoxicating. Like he had downed immense amounts of the sweetest liquor and was left with a mind-numbing sensation that wracked him with vexation.
He wanted her out for that very reason.
Attempting to return to his work would be futile. His head was hazy, unable to comprehend how such a frail girl that was afraid of her own shadow, was capable of holding so much power. She was strong for a human. There was no way this could be possible.
He huffed, pushing himself away from his desk and taking leisurely steps around it. As he headed to the door, Tobias came back into the room with paper towels and cleaning products.
"Tobias, did she seem off to you?" He questioned, watching his servant kneel to clean the mess.
"No. She has kindness embedded deep within her. She has a strong scent, but other than that minor flaw-" He began chuckling at Tobias' words as if her scent were the most trivial thing about her.
"Minor flaw? I could smell her before she even arrived at the manor. She doesn't make you sick?" Tobias tossed the dirtied paper towel into the trash and shrugged his shoulders.
"A bit, however, the longer we are exposed to her, the more accustomed to her scent we will grow." Tobias stood up so that he was face to face with his master.
"That is if you decide to keep her." Tobias had begun to stride out of his master's room, continuing to talk over his shoulder. "I chose her for a reason. Her father died in the military on the battlefield. Maybe she holds the blood of a Warrior." Tobias simpered jokingly over his shoulder, but he couldn't help feeling like there was some truth in Tobias' statement.
He scratched the back of his neck, gazing at the glossy space that Tobias had thoroughly cleaned.
He desperately needed a Warrior before the start of this war. He needed to win over territory, which meant he would be having to fight his own kind in this battle for land.
He was thinking about making Tobias his Warrior in this war since he was a vampire, but he wouldn't risk Tobias' life. Though he was strong, and he'd protect with his life, Tobias wasn't mentally, or physically built for the life-threatening stakes that war held.
Finding a Warrior was quite hard considering he wasn't exactly a people's person. No vampire was. They weren't made of cold blood because they were filled with goodwill.
He found himself walking out of his office with white and baby blue walls and into the hallway, following her scent with tightened fists.
He took tedious steps towards the guest room on the same floor, the haze that had begun to disappear at the slightest, now returning and intensifying as he approached the guest room door.
Lifting his hand to knock, his impatient behavior got the better of him and instead barged in to find the young girl slipping a white tank top over her chest.
She hadn't noticed he opened the door, having done so silently.
The beautiful maiden had traded her elegant white dress that was filled with vomit, for a pair of loose sweatpants, pulling her brunette hair with honey highlights into a bun.
"Isn't it far better to be in comfort, than to dress in attempt impress others?" Ophelia gasped and spun around, the shock on her face when she peered into the vanity mirror, then back at him was pure enjoyment. She looked so frantic when she saw he had no reflection. It was amusing.
"I just wanted to look presentable to make a good impression when I arrived," Ophelia whispered, cleaning her face of her makeup. "but the attempt was pointless." The child looked defeated and he had yet to finish mocking her.
She was so fragile. Like a daisy that was plucked from the dirt and was beginning to wilt just a few moments after.
"If it eases your mind, you did look lovely." Ophelia beamed at him, tears slipping over her slightly reddened cheeks.
"Thank you, Mr. Cross." She used the back of her hand to clean her face and wipe her light-colored eyes. He felt his heart snap in two at the sight of the disheartened girl.
"Jon. Refer to me as Jon." He was one that was a rather stoic being, not one to allow himself to express much for emotion, not that he ever experienced any aside from bliss, hunger, and anger.
I could have been the haze his body was entrapped in after being enthralled by her delicate scent of rich blood and fresh flowers, but he couldn't stop himself from inhaling sharply and speaking.
"The wedding will be scheduled two weeks from now. I truly hope you know what you have gotten yourself into." He shared a gaze with her for a short moment, seeing something in her eyes that glistened. Unshed tears, yes, but there was a mixture of blissful emotion dancing in her eyes.
It was a twinkle he had seen many times in the five hundred years of his life. The glisten in the eyes of knights before they conquered a fight. The sparkle in the eyes of a woman just after she heard the first cry of her child. The glossiness in the eyes of a dying man just before he was finally given the sweet relief of death.
The distinct twinkle was one of hope.
"If you desire to eat, dinner will be prepared shortly for you. Until then, remain here and rest. If you need anything, simply call for Tobias and he'll assist you." He muttered, turning his back to her as he fled from her presence.
He had given Ophelia hope.