At the age of 18, every dhampir can decide when their heart stops, but not all of them can choose their allegiance. Melissa Sault is one of these dhampir, a half-blooded immortal whom attends a secondary school built for students just like her--stud...
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There were five noble vampire bloodlines. My skim of the textbook had five sections for each; Morgan, Rayth, Whitmore, Aguilar, and Rosiclare. Their government formed something similar to Courts, but the solitary nature of vampires scattered them across the globe, allowing them freedom as long as they recalled their loyalties to their makers.
Still not it.
I read the question again.
Which noble family began and expanded the Eurasian pre-eternal trading lines in the 12th century? How?
On the bright side, I could recite the noble last names as easily as I could list the members of my own family. Perhaps it was easiest to think of who didn't have anything to do with them. Order of elimination.
I stole a glance at the clock. Twenty minutes. Pencils scribbled on nearby desks, some bubbled in answer circles while others outlined short essay answers to the exam. At the front of class, my professor hid behind a spread newspaper, his pages crinkling and drawing the attention of another student every so often before settling into a new page.
My face fell into my hands.
The last question and my mind did cartwheels. Sighing, I lifted up and blanched at the presence in the aisle. Casual, intent on the side of my face, the vampire watched. His elegant neck craned forward, eyes roaming my paper next.
He took one heavy step to me.
Another.
I glanced around the room. As though asleep, they all continued in their ways. Even my teacher flipped his page and kicked his legs up onto the desk.
It was true then. No one saw V.
It unnerved me less than I thought. Not to say being mentally bound comforted anyone, but I knew magick. What the necklace did, the mind trick, was an ability dropir warned immortals about. The material world was controllable, avoidable even. Compromises in the intellectual plains were the opposite.
But as I finally gave V the satisfaction of looking him in the eye--to which he grinned--nothing about him screamed death as much as it warned me of danger. Unpredictability.
"May I?" The question in his gaze was almost human as he rested a gentle hand on my exam.
I shook my head, dread taking root in my stomach.
He took his hand away, that diplomatic grin relentless. "Reconsider your answer to number eight."
My brows furrowed, my answer sheet forgotten as I snatched the test sheet again.
Which monarch ordered the arrest of every pre-eternal within their borders?
Grey pencil marks circled B, Henry the Eighth. Though his trouble with wives made him notorious, he reasoned that an immortal seduced the women he married after he continued having daughters rather than sons. He went through great lengths to find a lady that would not be "tainted" by another creature after he planted his seed. Needless to say, he blamed his bad luck on the existence of higher beings. As one of the stories that stuck out while reviewing my notes, it had to be correct.
