The Vampire Queen They Sacrificed

I was dying, but honestly? Death felt like mercy.

As a vampire, I should have been immortal. But at six years old, I'd made a deal with a demon, gambling my fate on "true love"—if three times I failed to win the heart of the one I loved, the demon would claim my soul.

Just when I thought death was certain, I got pregnant. Morag, the demon, showed rare mercy, promising to wait until I gave birth.

But at eight months, my husband sneered about removing the "bastard." My brother didn't even flinch as he sliced open my belly. My parents cursed that I deserved it—all to save my sister Lycia, who'd somehow "returned from the dead."

The day they cut my child out, not one tear. Not for me.

So why, after I died, were they all on their knees at my grave, sobbing?

Cecilia's POV

"The child's soul, or your own?"

Morag's voice seeped out of the void—cold, mocking.

"This is your last chance, Cecilia. I don't have the patience for these games anymore. Choose. NOW."

I leaned against the stone window, one hand on my belly. The baby kicked.

"Mine," I closed my eyes. "It was always mine."

At six, a demon hunter's silver blade had sliced my throat open. I lay there bleeding out, just... waiting for it to end. Then Morag appeared, planting a black skull mark over my heart—she sneered that if I could win true love, the curse would break. If not? My life and soul were hers.

Now the skull mark was black as charcoal, keeping me up every night with pain.

But it didn't matter. Even if no one in this world truly loved me, my child would. And I would love him with everything I had.

Morag gave a cold snort. Her voice vanished.

The stone door EXPLODED inward.

Marcus Nightshade stormed in, six guards at his back. The Vampire King of the North, ruler of the Nightshade Dynasty. My husband.

His deep purple eyes locked onto my belly.

"Take her."

Guards grabbed my arms, lifting me clean off the ground.

"Marcus, what are you—"

"Lycia's been wounded by demon hunters." Marcus strode out without looking back. "Holy silver's eating through her organs. She's dying. Only the blood of that bastard in your belly can save her."

Everything inside me went cold. "What? You want to—"

"Cut it out. Now."

"You'll KILL him if you take him now!" I fought like hell, chains rattling. "He's only eight months! Just wait one more month, when he's full term—"

"One month?" Marcus whipped around and grabbed my jaw. "Lycia doesn't HAVE a month. You want to stall and watch her die, is that it?"

"Then use MY blood!" Tears spilled over. "Like always—take whatever you need, bleed me dry, I don't care—"

"Your blood?" Marcus laughed, grip tightening. "Cecilia. Your blood's worthless now. Couldn't save a dying rat."

I went completely still.

He was right. I was worthless now.

Before, every time Lycia got "hurt," Marcus would come drain my blood—wrist, neck, fingertips, hours at a time until I couldn't stand, until I blacked out. I never complained. I thought it meant I was needed.

Then my healing bloodline dried up. Morag said it was part of the curse—a healer who never received true love would slowly lose everything, grow weaker, until she couldn't even save herself.

My blood had been useless for six months.

So now Marcus didn't want me. He wanted my child.

"Cecilia."

Morag's voice returned.

"This man bled you dry and it still wasn't enough. Now he's coming for your child's life." She whispered low and tempting. "Give me the child's soul now, and you walk away alive—"

"No. I can't."

"You are genuinely the stupidest vampire I have ever met." A pause. "Fine. One last chance. If he shows you even a SHRED of real feeling right now—just a shred—the deal's off."

I looked up at Marcus.

He had a communication crystal in his fist, voice like ice. "Cedric, what the HELL is taking so long? Don't give me that bullshit about sibling bonds. Get here and take the child. NOW. Lycia's out of time."

My brother. The palace's chief healer. The man who once swore he'd protect me forever.

Watching Marcus's cold profile, I finally understood—he'd never wanted this child. Of course not. In his eyes, this baby was a mistake, something I'd schemed to create.

Forget it, I told Morag silently. Even given the chance, they could never love me. They never could.

But I still asked.

"Marcus."

He ended the call. Turned around.

"Did you ever love me?" I held his gaze. "Even a little?"

Marcus stared at me for a long moment. Then he laughed—the kind of laugh you'd give a bad joke.

"Love you? Cecilia, I have NEVER loved you. Not once. NEVER."

The skull mark over my heart stabbed hard, pain buckling my knees.

But I laughed.

Of course. How could he? No one ever has.

Three years ago, my parents threw me out. Cedric stood in front of the entire clan and said, "You're not worthy of being my sister." The skull mark had already started eating me alive. I walked through a storm all night and finally collapsed outside Nightshade Castle's iron gates.

Marcus had opened the door.

He took me in, looked after me. Later we fell in love, got married. When he slipped the ring on my finger, I thought—this time, someone's finally going to treat me right.

Then Lycia appeared.

The second Marcus saw her, he left me—his bride, still in her wedding gown—and ran to her, saying he'd been searching for her for ten years.

That was the day I lost him for good.

They dragged me into the medical chamber and slammed me down on a stone slab. Chains locked around my wrists and ankles.

Cedric stood nearby, head down, arranging silver blades and vials. Didn't even glance up.

"Cedric!" I pulled against the chains until they cut into my skin. "Brother, PLEASE—don't do this—"

Cedric's hands stilled. "Don't move," he said flatly. "A forced delivery hurts worse than you think. You fight now, it only gets worse."

"I don't CARE how much it hurts!" Tears ran down my face. "The baby will DIE, he's only eight months, he—"

"Enough." He didn't look up. "Be grateful he's at least good for something."

I stopped. Just... stopped. Went quiet as a corpse.

Marcus frowned. "Look at that. You do know when to quit. Would've saved yourself a lot of pain if you'd done this from the start."

"Know when to quit?" I stared up at the dark ceiling and laughed—actually laughed. "You're right, Marcus. I should've quit a long time ago."

I turned my head and looked straight at him.

"Strip me of my title. Right now."