Bound by Silver and Blood

Chapter 1

Jade

“Move it, leech.”

A meaty hand shoved her forward. She stumbled, the thin soles of her silk slippers sliding in the filth and mud. The rusted iron gates of the prison groaned open.

“Don’t want to be late for your party, princess,” a second guard jeered. His laugh was a wet, guttural sound.

Jade straightened her back, lifting her chin. The silver collar on her throat was cold and heavy, a constant reminder of her fall from grace. It pulsed with a dull energy, suppressing her strength, making her feel sluggish and weak. Human.

She took a single, deliberate step into the abyss.

The gates slammed shut behind her with a deafening clang that sealed her fate. The sound echoed across a vast, muddy yard filled with hulking bodies and predatory eyes.

Every single one of them was a werewolf.

The air was thick with the stench. Wet dog, stale sweat, blood, and a choking undercurrent of pure aggression. It clawed at her throat. A low growl rumbled through the yard, a collective sound from a hundred throats.

“What’s that I smell?” a voice called out.

“Smells clean,” another answered with a sneer.

“Smells like old money and bad decisions.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd of inmates. They parted slowly, creating a path for her. It was not a gesture of respect. It was the way predators clear a space to better watch their prey.

Her stomach twisted with a hunger so sharp it felt like swallowing glass. It had been days since she’d last fed properly. The Council had made sure of that. They wanted her weak. They wanted her broken before she even arrived.

She kept walking, her gaze fixed forward, pretending she was walking through the marbled halls of her family’s estate, not a dog kennel masquerading as a prison.

“Well, look what we have here.”

The voice was close. Too close.

She stopped. Three wolves detached themselves from the crowd, blocking her path. They were bigger than the others, their muscles corded under scarred skin and prison tattoos. The one in the middle, clearly the leader, had a broken nose and pale, dead eyes.

“Never seen a vampire in gen pop before,” the leader said, circling her slowly. “They usually keep your kind separate. Afraid you’ll get broken.”

“I don’t break,” Jade said, her voice colder than she felt.

He laughed, a short, ugly bark. “We’ll see. What’s your name, little bat?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“Oh, it’s my concern,” he said, stopping directly in front of her. He was so close she could smell the rancid meat on his breath. “Everything that comes into my yard is my concern. And you,” he reached out to touch a lock of her dark hair.

She flinched back. “Don’t touch me.”

His grin widened, showing yellowed canines. “Or what? You’ll bite me? Please do. I’d love to feel those little fangs snap against my hide.”

The other two wolves chuckled, moving to flank her. The circle was closing.

“I am Jade Vance of the House of Nocturne,” she announced, her voice ringing with an authority she no longer possessed. “My family is one of the Old Blood. If you harm me, they will rain down a century of fire on this place and everyone in it.”

The leader stared at her for a long moment, then threw his head back and howled with laughter. “The House of Nocturne? Girl, your house is the one that sent you here. We heard all about it. Framed for killing an elder. They threw you to the dogs. That’s us.”

Her blood ran cold. Of course they knew. Her humiliation was their entertainment.

“She still smells like a princess, though,” said the wolf on her right. He licked his lips. “I wonder if she still tastes like one.”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” said the one on her left. “Always wanted to hear a vampire scream for real.”

“You will hear nothing from me,” Jade hissed, letting her own fangs descend. It was a bluff. The suppressor collar made her too weak to put up a real fight, but she wouldn’t die cowering.

The leader’s eyes glinted. “There they are. Pretty little things. We’ll take them as souvenirs.”

“Get away from me,” she warned, her hands curling into fists.

“I don’t think so,” the leader said. “You’re ours now. A new toy for the pack. But first, you have to be initiated. You have to learn your place.”

“And what place is that?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“On your knees,” he snarled, his face shifting, the bones cracking as his wolf nature pressed closer to the surface. “You’ll learn to serve us. All of us.”

Panic, cold and sharp, tried to pierce her resolve. She shoved it down. Dignity was all she had left. She would die with it.

“I don’t kneel for mongrels.”

The alpha’s face contorted with rage. “Wrong answer.”

“It’s the only one you’ll ever get from me.”

“You’ve got spirit,” he conceded. “I’ll enjoy breaking it. Get her.”

“You should listen to your alpha,” the wolf to her left whispered in her ear. “It will be easier if you don’t fight.”

“It’s more fun when they fight,” said the one on her right, grabbing her arm. His grip was like iron.

Jade reacted on pure instinct. She twisted, slamming her elbow into his throat. He gagged, stumbling back, his grip loosening for a second. It was all the space she needed.

She spun, ready to face the leader, to land one good strike before they tore her apart.

But he was faster. Stronger.

He caught her by the front of her dress, the fine fabric ripping with a screech. He pulled her close, lifting her onto her toes.

“Bad decision, leech,” he growled in her face.

“Let me go.”

“No. We’re just getting started. We’re going to pass you around until there’s nothing left but an empty little doll for the rest of the yard to play with.”

Fear was a living thing inside her now, coiling in her gut. She could smell their arousal, their bloodlust. It was suffocating.

“I will kill you,” she whispered, a desperate, hopeless promise.

“No, you won’t,” he laughed, his foul breath washing over her. “You’ll beg. You’ll cry. And then you’ll break.”

He shoved her hard. She fell backward, landing painfully in the mud. Her dress was ruined, her body was trembling, but her eyes burned with hatred.

She pushed herself up to her knees, then slowly, defiantly, got to her feet.

“I told you,” she said, spitting a mixture of blood and dirt from her mouth. “I don’t break.”

The leader’s amusement finally faded, replaced by cold fury. “Then we’ll just have to tear you to pieces.”

He lunged.

Chapter 2

Jade

His teeth were inches from her throat. She closed her eyes, ready for the tear of flesh, the end.

It never came.

Instead, a sound ripped through the yard. It was a growl, but that word was too small for it. This was the sound of bedrock cracking, of a landslide starting. It was a sound of pure, undisputed authority, and it vibrated in Jade’s bones.

The entire prison fell silent.

Every inmate froze. The birds stopped chirping. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. The wolf on top of her, Roric, went rigid, his lunge halted mid-air.

Slowly, he pushed himself off her, his eyes wide with a terror that hadn’t been there a moment before. He turned, along with every other wolf in the yard, to face the source of the sound.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the mess hall’s outer wall. He was tall, built with the dense, brutal muscle of a predator who fought for every meal and every breath. Scars mapped his skin, a testament to a life of violence. But it was his eyes that held the yard captive. They were the color of a stormy sky, and they promised death.

The crowd parted before him like water around a boulder.

He didn’t look at Jade. His gaze was fixed on the three wolves who had cornered her.

“Blackwood,” Roric breathed, the name a curse and a prayer. He took a half-step back.

“Get out of my way, Roric,” the man, Blackwood, said. His voice was as deep and menacing as his growl.

“This isn’t your business,” Roric stammered, trying to sound brave. “The warden said any new meat is fair game.”

“The warden doesn’t run this yard,” Blackwood replied, his tone dangerously calm. “I do.”

He took another step forward. “And you’re standing on my property.”

Roric glanced down at Jade, then back at Blackwood. “The leech? She’s nobody’s property.”

“She is now,” Blackwood said. A flicker of movement was the only warning. He crossed the ten feet between them in an instant.

The sound of bone snapping echoed across the yard. Roric screamed as Blackwood twisted his arm at an impossible angle. A second crack followed as a knee connected with his nose, sending a spray of blood into the mud.

The other two wolves tried to move, one drawing a shiv from his boot.

Blackwood didn’t even seem to notice. He kicked Roric’s legs out from under him and stomped on his chest. A sickening crunch told Jade that ribs had just broken.

“Anyone else have a problem?” Blackwood asked the yard, not even breathing heavily.

He turned to the wolf with the shiv. The wolf dropped the blade as if it were on fire. Blackwood grabbed him by the hair, slamming his face into the nearby wall. The wolf slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The third wolf simply turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd.

Silence returned, heavier this time, thick with fear. Blackwood stood over Roric’s whimpering form.

“I think you dropped something,” Blackwood said.

“What?” Roric cried, clutching his ruined arm.

“Your dignity.”

Blackwood turned his back on the broken wolf, his attention finally landing on Jade. She scrambled to her feet, trying to pull the torn pieces of her dress together. She would not show weakness. Not to him.

He stalked toward her. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. She lifted her chin, meeting his stormy gaze.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice tight.

He didn’t stop until he was directly in front of her, his shadow swallowing her whole. He was even bigger up close. A monster of a man.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he growled.

Then his hand shot out, wrapping around her throat. He lifted her off her feet with effortless strength. Her hands flew to his wrist, but his grip was like iron. Panic flared in her chest as her air supply was cut off.

He held her dangling in the air and turned to face the entire prison population.

“Listen up!” he roared, and every eye was on him. “This one,” he gave her a little shake, “belongs to me now.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“She is my meat,” he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. “If you look at her, I’ll take your eyes. If you speak to her, I’ll take your tongue. If you touch her, I will tear you apart so slowly your own mother wouldn’t recognize the pieces.”

He let the threat hang in the air, a promise of brutal retribution.

“She is mine. Understand?”

A collective, fearful mumble of assent came from the inmates.

Satisfied, he dropped her. She landed on her feet, choking and gasping for air, her neck burning where his fingers had been. She glared at him, a fresh wave of fury replacing her fear.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she rasped.

He ignored her. He grabbed her by the upper arm, his grip just as punishing as the one on her throat, and started walking.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, stumbling to keep up as he dragged her across the muddy yard.

“To my den,” he said without looking at her.

“I am not some pet you can claim.”

“You are whatever I say you are,” he countered, his voice flat. “Right now, you are the reason you are still breathing. I can change that.”

She fell silent. He was right. She hated it, but he was right. As he pulled her along, she looked back at the crowd. Roric was being helped away by his friends, his face a mask of agony and humiliation. The other wolves watched her go, their eyes filled with a mixture of thwarted hunger and a new, profound fear of the man who now held her leash.

They weren't just afraid of him. They revered him. He was their Alpha.

She looked from the pack of jackals to the lone wolf dragging her to his lair. One offered a swift death, or something worse. The other offered… what? Protection? Slavery?

Maybe they were the same thing in a place like this.

He pulled her toward a section of the prison that was clearly separate from the rest. The cells here were made of solid steel, not bars, with only a small slit for a window. Maximum security within a maximum-security prison.

He stopped in front of one of the doors. A guard, who had been watching the whole scene with a smirk, hurried over to unlock it.

“Got yourself a new toy, Blackwood?” the guard sneered.

Blackwood didn't answer. He just stared at the guard until the man’s smirk vanished and he fumbled with the keys.

“It’s open,” the guard said, backing away quickly.

Blackwood shoved the heavy door inward. He didn’t release her. He dragged her over the threshold into the dark, cold space.

Then he let go of her arm and shoved her forward. She stumbled into the cell, catching herself on a stone wall.

She turned just in time to see him step inside, his massive frame filling the doorway. He pulled the steel door closed behind him.

The sound of the bolt sliding into place was the loudest thing she had ever heard. It was the sound of a cage door closing. Of a tomb being sealed.

She was trapped. Alone. In the dark.

With the most dangerous monster in the entire prison.

Chapter 3

Jade

The darkness in the cell was absolute. It was a thick, smothering blanket that muffled sound and stole the air. She could feel him in the space with her, a looming mountain of heat and restrained violence. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive silence.

A scrape of flint on steel. A spark flared, catching on a wick. A crude oil lamp sputtered to life, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls.

Issac stood by the lamp, his face half-hidden in shadow. He wasn't looking at her with hunger, or lust, or even anger. He was looking at her like she was a puzzle. Or a tool.

"Stop shaking," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's irritating."

"I'm not shaking," she lied, forcing her chin up. Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

He didn't call her on the lie. Instead, he took a step toward her. She flinched, pressing herself back against the cold, damp stone.

"Don't move," he commanded.

He came closer, his size seeming to shrink the small cell even further. She braced for a blow, for the bite she'd been expecting all day. But his hands stayed at his sides. His stormy eyes weren't on her face, but on her throat.

"Let me see it."

"See what?" she asked, her hand instinctively going to her neck.

"The collar. Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you."

Slowly, she lowered her hand. He knelt in front of her, his proximity overwhelming. His scent was earthy, like pine needles after a storm, mixed with something wild and dangerous. He gently tilted her chin up with one calloused finger, his touch surprisingly careful.

He examined the silver band, his eyes tracing the intricate engravings.

"A silver serpent devouring its own tail," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "The Vance family crest."

Her blood ran cold. "How do you know that?"

He finally met her eyes. The lamp flame danced in their grey depths. "I know who you are, Jade Vance. I know you were thrown in here for killing one of your own elders. And I know what your bloodline is famous for."

She said nothing, her throat suddenly tight with something other than fear. It was confusion. This brute, this animal, was more than he seemed.

He stood up, turning his back on her. He walked to the center of the cell and held up his arms.

She saw them then. Heavy silver manacles were clasped around his wrists, connected by a short, thick chain. The metal was dull, almost black, and etched with faint runes that seemed to drink the light.

"This prison holds my body," he said, his voice laced with a venomous hatred. "But these... these are my real cage."

"What are they?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Cursed silver. Forged with vampire blood magic. They don't just bind me. They poison me. They suppress my wolf."

He let his arms fall. The clink of the chain was a dead, final sound.

"I can smell the hunger on you," he said, changing the subject abruptly. "It's a stench. Desperation. They're starving you out."

"They feed us," she said defensively.

"Slop. Not what you need. Not what keeps you strong."

He looked at her again, his expression unreadable. "I can get you blood."

Jade stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me. Animal blood. The guards trade it for favors. It's not vintage stock from your family's cellar, but it's better than the slow death they have planned for you."

Her mind raced. He was offering her the one thing she needed to survive.

"Why?" she asked, her voice full of suspicion.

"Because you're no use to me as a corpse."

"And what use am I to you alive?"

"You're going to break these," he said, holding up his chains again. "Your family's magic is the key. The magic of unlocking. You're going to figure out the curse on these chains, and you are going to set me free."

It was a command. A statement of fact.

"You're insane," she breathed. "I can't. This collar... it weakens me. I can barely access my own strength, let alone ancient magic."

"You'll figure it out," he said with chilling confidence. "You're a Vance. You're a survivor. And you're motivated."

"What motivation?" she scoffed.

"Me," he said simply. "I am your motivation. I will protect you. You saw what happened in the yard. As long as you are mine, no one will touch you. No one will hurt you. You can walk through this prison like you own it. But you will be my servant. You will work on these chains. That is the deal."

"A deal with a filthy dog," she muttered under her breath.

His head snapped toward her. "What did you say?"

"I said it's an interesting offer," she lied quickly, her heart skipping a beat.

"It's the only offer you have," he said, his voice flat. "It's my protection for your magic. A simple transaction. Or, you can go back to the yard. Roric will be healed in a day or two. I'm sure he and his friends would love to finish what they started."

He let the threat hang in the air. The image of their leering faces, the feel of their hands on her, sent a shudder of revulsion through her. He was right. She had no choice.

To be one monster's property, or to be every monster's toy.

"I am no one's servant," she said, clinging to the last shred of her pride.

"You are what you need to be to survive," he countered. "Just like me."

She looked at his chains, then at her collar. They were both prisoners, shackled by silver and circumstance. Maybe he understood more than she gave him credit for.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked. "How do I know you'll give me the blood?"

"Because a weak tool is a useless tool," he said. He walked over to a loose stone in the wall and pulled it free. From the dark cavity, he withdrew a small, sealed pouch. It was dark red, almost black.

He tossed it to her. It landed in her lap with a soft squelch.

"A show of good faith," he said. "Drink it."

She stared at the pouch. Her fangs ached. Her entire body screamed with a thirst so profound it was a physical pain. The smell, even through the thick hide, was intoxicating. Pig's blood, if she had to guess. Crude. Unrefined. And the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She hated her own weakness. Hated that he was watching her, seeing her reduced to this primal need.

"What are you waiting for?" he prompted.

With trembling fingers, she tore the pouch open. The scent hit her like a physical blow, rich and coppery. She lifted it to her lips and drank, her eyes closing in pure, unadulterated relief. The warm, metallic liquid slid down her throat, a wave of life and strength washing through her. It was a pale imitation of what she was used to, but it was enough. It pushed back the weakness, sharpened her senses, quieted the screaming ache in her belly.

When she was done, she let the empty pouch fall from her fingers. She felt... better. Not strong, but functional. Alive.

She looked up at him. He was watching her with an unnerving intensity.

"So," he said, his voice a soft growl that was somehow more intimidating than his roar. "Do we have a deal, little bat?"

She hated him. She hated this place. She hated her family for betraying her and the wolves for imprisoning her. But most of all, she hated that he was her only hope.

"Yes," she said, the word tasting like ash in her mouth. "We have a deal."

"Good," he grunted, turning away. He settled onto a thin mattress on a stone slab that served as his bed. "The floor is yours. Get some rest. Your work begins at sunrise."