Blood Bound
Daniella Raysha Arreglado · Ongoing · 42.3k Words
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Introduction
In a world where art starves and blood sustains — what price would you pay just to survive?
Ivory Marwood has nothing left. Unpaid rent. Canvases nobody wants. A city that swallowed her whole without noticing.
Then the whispers find her.
Luné Devain. An underground auction where the wealthiest, darkest people bid on things that should never have a price tag.
She becomes one of them.
Marketed as a living artwork — a muse, a thing — Ivory stands beneath the lights while powerful men decide her worth.
One doesn't raise his paddle. He doesn't have to.
Bidder Number 24. Rage Lenoir.
A smile that feels like a warning. Eyes shifting from sapphire to amber. And something underneath older than wealth, older than power, older than anything she has a word for.
The last of something the supernatural world buried and prayed would never resurface. A vampire who was once a wolf. Two bloods. Two hungers. A predator even ancient councils refuse to name.
He just bought her.
The deal: three drops of blood a week. Every debt cleared. Every dream funded. A Blood Bound Contract sealed not in ink — but in crimson.
She should run. She signs instead.
Just business, she tells herself.
But nothing about Rage is simple. Not the amber burn when someone gets too close. Not the growl that sounds less like a threat and more like a claim.
In a world where immortality comes at the cost of humanity and love is the most dangerous indulgence of all — can a bond forged in blood, and sealed in something far more ancient, survive?
Or when the final drop falls, will the very agreement that brought them together be the thing that tears them apart?
Ivory Marwood has nothing left. Unpaid rent. Canvases nobody wants. A city that swallowed her whole without noticing.
Then the whispers find her.
Luné Devain. An underground auction where the wealthiest, darkest people bid on things that should never have a price tag.
She becomes one of them.
Marketed as a living artwork — a muse, a thing — Ivory stands beneath the lights while powerful men decide her worth.
One doesn't raise his paddle. He doesn't have to.
Bidder Number 24. Rage Lenoir.
A smile that feels like a warning. Eyes shifting from sapphire to amber. And something underneath older than wealth, older than power, older than anything she has a word for.
The last of something the supernatural world buried and prayed would never resurface. A vampire who was once a wolf. Two bloods. Two hungers. A predator even ancient councils refuse to name.
He just bought her.
The deal: three drops of blood a week. Every debt cleared. Every dream funded. A Blood Bound Contract sealed not in ink — but in crimson.
She should run. She signs instead.
Just business, she tells herself.
But nothing about Rage is simple. Not the amber burn when someone gets too close. Not the growl that sounds less like a threat and more like a claim.
In a world where immortality comes at the cost of humanity and love is the most dangerous indulgence of all — can a bond forged in blood, and sealed in something far more ancient, survive?
Or when the final drop falls, will the very agreement that brought them together be the thing that tears them apart?
Chapter 1
“Prologue: The Crimson’s Cost,”
────── ꕥ ⋅ IVORY ⋅ ꕥ ──────
Three minutes before I sold myself, I was still free.
For some reason, I keep thinking about those three minutes.
Those three precious minutes.
They were like a song, or the time it takes to make coffee. Enough time to change your mind, if you're paying attention.
In my case, I wasn't.
When the curtain opened, everything after that was just the story of how I survived it.
Backstage smelled like money and hairspray and something else underneath, something sweet and sharp I couldn't name and didn't try to.
Chandeliers spilled gold light through velvet curtains. Even the dust looked expensive here. Everything was a performance. Even the air.
"Arms up, lady."
A stylist appeared out of nowhere and slid something cold and silky over my head before I could argue.
Red. Deep, dark red. The exact color of what everyone in this building had come to buy.
I caught myself in the narrow backstage mirror and almost laughed.
Arterial red. A color like blood. How subtle.
God, Ivory. You shouldn't be here.
This wasn't the plan. My paintings were supposed to hang on walls like these.
Not me.
"Lot 24, you're on deck."
A woman with a clipboard said it without looking at me, like I was one more item to check off her list. Something heavy settled in my chest.
Lot 24.
That was me now.
Through the gap in the curtains I could see the hall. Men in suits, glittering jewelry, paddles rising and falling. They were deciding something. I thought I knew what.
I was scanning the crowd the way you scan a room for the nearest exit when something made me stop.
A man in the front row.
He wasn't doing anything. Hadn't lifted a paddle. Wasn't talking to anyone. Just sitting there, still and certain, like the room had been built around him.
He was, undeniably, there's no other word for it, devastatingly handsome.
Hair and a face that looked carved out of something incapable of mistakes.
He held a stillness that didn't come from calm. It came from never needing to move fast, because nothing could outrun him anyway. Like he was always in control.
Then he turned, slow, like he already knew I was there.
His eyes found mine straight through the curtain gap.
Ice blue. Deep and cold and direct.
My heart hit my ribs so hard I felt it in my throat.
Then, for one second, barely a blink.
His eyes shifted.
Blue to amber. Cold to burning. Something old and wild, completely at odds with the tailored suit and the chandelier light and the two hundred wealthy people around him.
Gone before I could be sure I'd seen it.
He smiled. Just barely. The smallest lift at the corner of his mouth, like he knew exactly what he'd just done to my heart rate and found it interesting.
I couldn't look away.
"Lot 24. Now."
Someone grabbed my arm and shoved me forward, and then there was nothing but blinding light and the sound of a crowd turning to look at me all at once.
"Ladies and gentlemen." The auctioneer's voice was smooth as glass. "Lot 24. A rare find. Untapped artistic genius, requiring only proper patronage."
Paddles rose.
Numbers climbed.
I stood frozen while my value got counted out in millions, my brain stuck on one thing.
His eyes changed color. Normal eyes don't do that.
The blue-eyed man never lifted his paddle. He didn't need to. At some point he simply stood, quiet, unhurried, and the entire room went still the way a forest goes still when something at the top of the food chain decides to move.
"Five million," he said. Low and calm. The voice of a man who expects to get what he wants. The voice of a man who isn't used to being told no.
The gavel came down.
Done.
Five million dollars. For me. For my blood. For whatever came next.
I didn't know yet what I'd actually sold.
I told myself it was just a transaction.
I told myself I was in control.
I told myself the way my pulse jumped when his eyes met mine was just fear.
Just fear. Normal, logical, self-preserving fear.
I was wrong about all of it.
My name is Ivory Marwood.
This is how I died.
And how, through death, I finally began to live.
Last Chapters
#40 Chapter 40 “What the Chamber Held,”
Last Updated: 7/19/2026#39 Chapter 39 “Armored,”
Last Updated: 7/19/2026#38 Chapter 38 “The Threat Emerges,”
Last Updated: 7/19/2026#37 Chapter 37 “The After,”
Last Updated: 7/18/2026#36 Chapter 36 “The Wedding Night,”
Last Updated: 7/18/2026#35 Chapter 35 “Wedding Preparations,”
Last Updated: 7/18/2026#34 Chapter 34 “The Ring,”
Last Updated: 7/18/2026#33 Chapter 33 “Chapter 32: Sundown,”
Last Updated: 7/17/2026#32 Chapter 32 “Jealousy,”
Last Updated: 7/15/2026#31 Chapter 31 “The Bond Made Flesh,”
Last Updated: 7/3/2026
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Six years later, Pete finds me again. Only this time, he isn't the man with all the power. His pack is dying, his people are running out of time, and I may be the only person capable of saving them.
But I'm no longer the woman Pete remembers. And beside me is a little boy who carries far too much of Pete's face to be a coincidence.
Our reunion should have been about a cure, but instead, it becomes the beginning of a war neither of us saw coming.
Because Pete's greatest danger isn't outside his pack.
It's inside his own family.
Old resentment turns into manipulation. Loyalty becomes betrayal. And the people Pete trusts begin hiding secrets that threaten to destroy everything he's built.
Then someone comes for the people I love.
Suddenly, this is no longer about whether Pete can earn my forgiveness.
It's about whether he can keep me alive.
Whether he can protect the son he never knew existed.
Whether he can uncover the truth before the people closest to him destroy everything he has finally learned to value.
Along the way, we'll lose people we thought would always stand beside us, I'll be forced to confront wounds I've spent six years trying to bury, and the family we're slowly building will be tested in ways neither of us could have imagined.
Because sometimes love isn't the hardest thing to find. Sometimes it's the hardest thing to survive.
Pete once believed power meant never needing anyone and I once believed surviving him meant leaving him behind.
We were both wrong.
Because some bonds refuse to die, some betrayals cut deeper than rejection and some people don't come back into your life to give you a second chance.
They come back to show you exactly what you almost lost.
Pete Leadsilver lost me once.
This time, he'll have to fight to keep the family he never knew he needed.
