Blood Vow, page 1
BLOOD VOW
THE TOWER SERIES - BOOK ONE
ZARAH HEMLOCK
CONTENTS
Trigger & Content Warnings
Playlist
Untitled
Name Pronunciations
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Forty-nine
Fifty
Fifty-one
Fifty-two
Fifty-three
Fifty-four
Fifty-five
Fifty-six
Fifty-seven
Epilogue
Untitled
But Wait, There’s More…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Blood Vow - The Tower Series Book One | Copyright © 2023 by Zarah Hemlock.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition | Publication Date: October 21, 2023
Cover Design & Formatting: V. Domino with 3Crows Author Services
Edited by: Colby Bettley at Novel & Noted
TRIGGER & CONTENT WARNINGS
THIS BOOK IS MEANT ONLY FOR PEOPLE 18+
Blood Vow is a dark fantasy romance containing topics that can be upsetting, disturbing, and possibly triggering. I HIGHLY recommend reading over ALL of the trigger and content warnings listed below before moving forward.
Imprisonment/Slavery, Trafficking, Non-Con/SA, Dub-Con, CNC, Mutilation, Off Page CSA, PTSD, Physical/Mental/Emotional Abuse, Breath/Knife/Blood/Primal/Cum/Spit Play, Off Page, Forced Pregnancy, Off Page Miscarriage, Murder, Torture, Suicidal Ideation, Medical Trauma, Explicit Sex Scenes , Explicit Language
PLAYLIST
The songs are an order for overall vibe as you read through the story, not for specific chapters.
https://sptfy.com/P1Hd
To the healers,
Stop bleeding yourself dry for the undeserving—that power is yours, and yours alone.
It’s time to heal yourself.
“Strong women will always bear the dangerous burden of a weaker man’s pride.”
― Keri Lake, Nightshade
NAME PRONUNCIATIONS
In order of appearance
Villiana (Vill-E-Ah-Na)
Nickname: Kotsbar (kost-baar)
Zigmund (Zig-muh-in-d)
Lysander (Ly-SAN-der)
Locren (La-K-Ren)
Thorin (Thaw-ruhn)
Ryu Japanese Pronunciation: (Deu) say as one syllable Americanized Pronunciation: (Ree-yoo)
Ophir (O-Fear)
Avi (Ah-Vee)
PROLOGUE
10 years old
I can barely remember the last time we had peace—normalcy. My brother tells me it was all ripped away, along with our mother. I remember everything about her. Her smile and laugh. The way she would sing me to sleep and kiss my boo-boos. But after she was taken is kinda fuzzy in my mind. The memories are all jumbled up in my brain.
My brother and I have been on the run for a long time, and although the bad guys are after us, Ziggy tries to make our adventures fun. Still, I hate it so much. All I want is to be an ordinary girl with a normal life, but that isn’t in the cards for me.
Today we stopped for a swim before finding our next—temporary—home. The fog over the river is thick, but the water is crystal clear. Running full speed, the grass tickles between my toes as I jump in fully clothed. I hold my breath for as long as possible, counting every passing second. Only pushing to the surface once my lungs are begging for air.
“Did you see that, Ziggy?” I yell out to my brother, trying to catch my breath. “I held my breath for thirty seconds! A new record!”
He runs over and picks me up from under my arms, spinning me around. “Kostbar! I’m so proud of you. You keep going and one day, you’ll be able to swim away.”
I pause, crinkling my nose. “Why would I ever want to do that? I have you, Ziggy, and that’s all I need.”
My brother has been acting weird lately. I know the bad guys that took Mama are looking for us, but he’s moved us three times in the last month. At this point, we’re making shelter somewhere new every night.
Ziggy’s face shifts into a sad, soft smile.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, tilting my head.
He tightly clenches his jaw as unshed tears brim his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but quickly shuts it when the sound of rustling comes from the other side of the river, followed by a sharp whistle and commands.
Ziggy grabs me by the shoulders, fear radiating from his body. “Kostbar, I need you to run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. You keep running until you are far, far away from here, okay? I will catch up. I need you to go right now.”
My heart is racing. Sparks of gold involuntarily shoot from my finger, creating anxious fireworks. He doesn’t have to tell me what’s going on. The look on his face says everything. The Collective is here.
“Absolutely not, Zigmund! Don’t you dare be the hero. Please run with me. You are all I have, and I won’t leave you.” Sobs wash over me, my lungs seizing with every breath.
“If you don’t run right now, you will end up just like Mama, and I will never see you again. Please go. I love you so much, little Kostbar.” Placing one last kiss on my forehead, he takes off across the river, leaving me behind. Just like he said he never would.
So, I run, run until my feet bleed and my legs shake. Mud and dirt caked between my toes; my legs cut up from running through the brush. I look around the forest, knowing I need to find shelter.
Entering a lush opening, I slow my pace . The colors are so vibrant, with flowers in full bloom. It’s clear that whoever lives in this area takes pride in it. And tucked into the tree line is a little house covered in moss. Thank the Gods.
Soaked to the bone and shivering, my small fist pounds on the door relentlessly. Finally, the door flies open, and a portly older satyr with raven eyes stares daggers into me.
“Why in the name of the Gods is a little elf beating down my door!”
“Please help me,” I beg. “The Collective. They’re after my brother and I. Please, I need shelter just until my brother gets here. Ziggy said he would be right behind me.”
The satyr’s eyes widen before looking up to the sky and shaking his head. Stepping aside, he holds open the door. “Quick, into the house.” He ushers me in. “You have a safe place here.”
As soon as I’m safely inside, he introduces himself. “My name is Lysander. You can call me Lys.”
“Lys,” I repeat. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Really, it’s no problem.” Lys shows me to the kitchen and hands me a glass of water. “And what shall I call you, little elf?”
Clutching the glass between my hands, I whisper, “Villiana.”
ONE
Villiana | Present - 26 years old
Cracking open my heavy lids, a splitting headache greets me. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, begging for moisture. Blinking a few times, I rub the sand from my eyes.
It takes all of my willpower to sit up and blindly search for the lamp string to illuminate this windowless cell of a room. My body screams in protest from the strain, so stiff that every movement feels as if my muscles will tear at any moment.
My mind swims with the remnants of the drugs they gave me last night. It's been six years of this. Six years of waking up feeling unrested and sick to my stomach. Six years of playing the game 'what happened to me last night?'. I learned quickly not to ask questions, or you'd feel even worse the following day. Like right now, as the pilled beige sheet falls from my body, I watch goosebumps break out across my bare skin, leaving me wondering how and why I'm completely naked—something I'll never truly know.
Grabbing the pillow from behind me, I scream into it before tossing the lumpy thing across the room.
It's better you don't know, Villiana.
Staying in bed would be ideal. Then again, that would just result in being manhandled into reality anyway. A hiss escapes my lips as my bare feet hit the cool stone floor. Now to find my clothes. My eyes roam around the cramped space, searching for my dress, which is balled up in the corner. Hobbling forward, every step is excruciating. A colorful string of curses spill from my lips as I bend over. Pulling the fabric over my head, the hem drops to my thighs, revealing specks of blood around the neckline and back.
"Surprise, surprise," I scoff to myself sarcastically.
Well, that explains a lot—Locren came for a visit.
Everyone rejoiced the day I presented as a healer, singing praises to the gods for granting me such a divine gift. Quickly thereafter, they were singing another tune, urging me to hide my gifts. To stay in the shadows in fear of what my future may hold. My kind has been hunted for their blood for a century: the key to healing the realms and temporary immortality. Unfortunately, I expected my life to bring me here—locked away, never to be seen again. It was only a matter of time before I became another statistic, a number, a nothing. Just another healer lost in the sea of death and despair.
"Wakey, wakey, Princess! It's time for your donation." Banging reverberates off of my door as my guard yells for me to get moving. The door flies open just as I'm slipping into my ratty old shoes, and the sloppy looking Orc comes barreling toward me.
"I told you to get the fuck up!" He yells into my face, spittle landing on my lip. The smell that emanates from him, good gods, is vomit-inducing. Really something wonderful to wake up to every day.
"Good morning to you too, sunshine," I chirp as I'm yanked by my arm.
Pulled toward the doorway, my feet stumble over each other. Bax huffs in annoyance and continues to drag me, knees scraping against the dirty floor instead of letting me right myself. "Maybe if you stopped drugging me, I could walk out on my own."
Throwing me to the floor, he locks the door behind him. He turns around and looks down at me darkly, smoothing the three strands of hair on the top of his head like he's about to take me on a hot date, rather than to be assaulted by a needle.
"I wouldn't worry too much about the scraggle you call hair. I would be more concerned about brushing those cracked tusks of yours. Didn't you hear, ladies love a man with a beautiful smile!" I snark, pushing myself off the ground to dust my dress off.
Bax grabs me by the neck and slams me against the wall. "You're a dumb cunt. You know that? I could tear that little scrap of fabric they call a dress off you and sink my fat cock between that slit of yours right now."
Looking directly into his canary yellow eyes, the corner of my lip turns up in amusement. "Would it be worth it, though? Taking the chance of impregnating me with your plebeian sperm. Locren would love that." My voice oozes with sarcasm. Knowing that I'm right, he doesn't speak a word. Instead, he crushes my bicep in his oversized hand, ushering me away.
The dimly lit corridor is narrow—barely accommodating two beings—paired with a high arched ceiling. Stone walls covered in moss and mold emanate a scent that tickles your nose with the urge to sneeze. They don't care to make it homey. Why would they when the rooms are glorified holding cells for their personal blood bags? Every step we take kicks up a plume of dirt, leaving your skin coated in a fine layer of filth. You never feel clean here.
At the entrance to the wing, there is a large iron gate. I'm convinced it is there only to serve as a reminder that you are indeed a prisoner. We are always escorted from place to place. We all have been given magic blockers, and honestly, the consequences of trying to escape are not worth the possibility that we could get out.
Bax impatiently shoves the key into the lock, calling it a son of a bitch when it doesn’t immediately turn over. A clink of the lock finally turning is followed by a loud groan of the old metal being pushed open.
It takes a few more minutes of walking before a sterile scent filters through the air signaling we’ve finally approached the donation room.
“Move your ass. We’re almost there, and I’m already drained from being around you,” he complains, shoving me in front of him.
As my foot crosses the threshold, I have to throw my hands up to shield myself from the blinding artificial daylight. You would think I would be used to it by now, but living like a mole really hinders your eyes' ability to adjust.
When my vision finally adapts, I'm greeted by a bright smile.
Just reaching four-foot-eleven, my best friend, Thorin, is a bitty pixie with a big attitude. She has the most exquisite umber skin with chestnut curls that just touch her shoulders. Her eyes are large and gold-flecked, paired with a smattering of freckles across her face. Her resting bitch face cannot be matched, nor can her beauty.
“You two can eye fuck on your own time.” Bax pushes me down into the horribly uncomfortable chair next to Thorin. Strapping my forearms onto the arms of the chair, my skin pinches between the leather and metal buckle, but the bite doesn’t bother me anymore.
Swinging my legs back and forth, my foot accidentally slams into his shin.
“You are lucky you’re already in that chair,” the guard mumbles. Rubbing his snub nose against the shell of my ear, he adds, “I’m seriously considering taking my chances with Locren.” Pushing off the chair, he stomps away like a petulant child.
“You love pissing the guards off, don’t you, little brat?”
“Aww, baby girl, I thought you liked my smart mouth. You told me it does wonders,” I say in a low sultry voice.
Thorin cackles, “Why else do you think I keep you around!”
The loud crash of the door hitting the wall pulls my attention away. My doctor marches toward us with his nose in my file. He roughly grabs one of the preset metal trays and drags it over. Flipping the file closed, he preps my IV line. “Make a fist,” he grumbles as he slaps my arm a few times, trying to find a vein. Once he finds one he likes, the needle pierces my skin.
He quickly checks over everything, picks up the file, and turns to walk out. "I'll be back, and don't even—"
I cut him off. "Try to remove the line. I still don't know how you think I would be able to do that."
Thorin's gaze burns my face as soon as he's gone, assessing the damage from last night's rendezvous. "You look like shit. Locren did a number on you."
"Oh, thank you for your kind words." Rolling my eyes, I scoff at her.
"Seriously, Vi, are you okay?"
Shifting uncomfortably, flashes of last night run through my mind. Since my moon cycle begins soon, the breeding has started again. My bloodied wrists are painted purple bruises from being cuffed. My core burns from the abuse. I would do anything to erase the memories.
"I’m fine. I always am,” I say dejectedly.
My eyes shift down at the stone floors marred with blood. How many beings sat in this very seat? I wonder if my mother was one of them—I’m sure she was.
