Vampire's Assassin: The Original's Forbidden Vows

Coven Whispers

Sleep refused to take hold of me. I lay in the vast bed of Eclipse Manor, staring at the intricate ceiling. Moonlight came through the tall arched windows, turning the room into a living space of temptation and warning. The adjoining door to Luther’s quarters remained open just enough for the low, steady rhythm of his breathing to be heard in a way I couldn't ignore. Every inhale made my magic restless.

This is absurd, I thought, rolling onto my side and punching the pillow with more force than necessary. He was a mark for me to kill. An Original Vampire at that. Someone whose blood could power the ritual that would finally grant me Warden status and sever the Winchester curse binding my line to Shadowveil’s service. Why am I catching feelings for him! Silly me. Six months of calculated closeness, before the Blood Eclipse would demand his essence. Then I ascend, plus answers about my stolen childhood and freedom from Vesper’s leash. Why is all this so hard for me to handle now? I had repeated the script so often it should have given me some clear head. Instead, it isn't helping.

His scent lingered in the air, stirring memories I didn’t ask for. The Academy had trained us to view such feelings as dangerous illusions, and as weapons that will eventually kill us. Yet here, in the quiet hours, it felt like truth about my blood recognizing its partner across forbidden histories. I shoved the thought down, focusing instead on the advantages I would get, I mean his empire’s resources, the intel Philip Vanderbilt promised, the layers of protection that bought me time.

A colder presence brushed my mind,

Lena.

Vesper Kane’s voice entered my thoughts like smoke curling under a locked door. The shadows in the far corner of the room thickened, becoming faint, ghostly silhouettes of Academy enforcers observing from the astral veil we normally use to communicate. Vesper's projection hovered strongest among them, her form translucent but her eyes on me was piercing.

You court destruction with the heart of a fool, Vesper continued, her tone wrapped in maternal disappointment. The psychic link carried subtle pain i felt at my temples reminding me of the blood price inflicted into my bones. An Original? The last of the First Brood? His kind has destroyed ours for millennia. His blood resists harvest, daughter. And you dare play house in his fortress while your sisters advance.

I sat up abruptly, heart slamming against my ribs, sheets pooling around my waist. Sweat cooled on my skin despite the fire crackling in the hearth. “Six months,” I projected silently, steeling my thoughts against the intrusion. “I’ll deliver the rite. The alliances will secure my cover. The Winchesters’ secrets are the key, please give me time to uncover them.”

Cold and mocking laughter echoed in my skull,, the kind that had broken lesser witches. Time is the one luxury bleeding away with your excuses. The others progress while you waver like a fool. Do not force my hand. We will motivate you if needed, with shadows in the night, blades for the billionaire predator you call husband in name only. You are forgetting that love is the chain that weakens. Trust, the knife you press to your own throat. Vesper's form flickered closer, then,

Then the projections withdrew as swiftly as they had come, leaving the room colder. I exhaled shakily, pressing my palms to my eyes until stars were seen behind my lids. They suspected just one unguarded moment where Luther’s touch lingered, one slip where my magic flared in his presence, and Shadowveil would descend with punishment and binding spells. Eclipse Manor would burn, its vampires will scatter or be harvested, and Luther as powerful, and unexpectedly sincere would become another casualty in my book of necessary deaths.

A soft knock sounded on the adjoining door before it eased open wider. Luther stood by the doorway, wearing only low-slung dark pants, his hard built chest and shoulders bare. “Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was a low rumble, with genuine concern rather than interrogation. Those eyes locked on mine, reading the tension in my posture, and the faint sweat on my collarbone. He crossed the room quickly and settled on the edge of my bed, close enough that his body heat filled the space between us, chasing away the astral chill.

I pulled the sheet higher, suddenly aware of how thin my nightgown clung to my skin. “Bad dreams,” I said, the lie slipping out with practiced smoothness. “the usual uneasy dreams for those who have done bad things.”

He didn’t retreat. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees, studying me with so much patience. “You carry more than dreams, Lena. I heard the shift in your breathing earlier, the way it hitched. And I felt... something made the edges of this place uncomfortable. What bad exactly have you done in the past.” His hand rose slowly, in a loving motion, and brushed a stray lock of hair from my temple. The touch sent warmth blooming across my skin. “Whatever chains you, you don’t have to bear them in silence. I’ve carried enough solitary burdens for ten lifetimes. Let me stand with you.”

The sincerity in his words hit deeper than any spell. It undermined every Academy lesson on vulnerability as weakness. My ex had offered protection once, only to plot my draining for his own gain. Luther’s gaze held none of that calculation; it carried the weary understanding of immortality’s isolation.

“I don’t need shielding,” I whispered, though conviction faltered in my voice. My eyes traced the line of his jaw, the subtle tension in his shoulders as he held himself in check. “You don’t know what I am. What I carry.”

“I know enough,” he countered, his tone filled with honesty. “You pulled a dying Original from the road and drove through hunters without flinching. That speaks of a strong woman, but you can crack under unrelenting pressure alone. I’ve seen empires fall because their rulers forgot the strength found in chosen bonds.” His fingers lingered near my cheek, his thumb tracing the faintest path along my jawline. I felt heat on my belly, my magic responding eagerly.

The need for him in my chest sang louder. I could close the distance, and taste the centuries on his lips. Let the tension that had built since the highway snap into something that consumes me. My training screamed caution, seduction was a tool, not a means to surrender, but desire warred with duty now. His scent enveloped me, intoxicating my senses, and promising refuge in a world that had offered none.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to us as his hand settled lightly on my waist, my palm rising to rest against his chest, feeling the strong thud beneath my fingers. His eyes darkened with unmistakable desire, a low sound vibrating in his throat, restrained only by respect for the boundaries I had set.

“Luther,” I breathed, tilting my chin up in a way our lips hovered a whisper apart. I had never wanted a true kiss beyond calculated performances. This felt inevitable, like blood eclipses on a straight line.

Then an urgent distant alarm rang through the manor’s reinforced walls. Luther tensed instantly, the tender Original vanishing behind the deadly mask of The Eclipse. His head snapped toward the window overlooking the cliffs. “Obsidian scouts. Probing the perimeter again. Their timing grows bolder.”

He rose in one quick motion, the warrior reclaiming dominance, but paused at the door he got to in a split second, glancing back with a look that mixed frustration and promise. “This conversation is not finished, Lena. Stay if you must, but know you are safer at my side than behind locked doors.”

“Like hell I’m staying behind,” I muttered, swinging my legs out of bed and reaching for a dark hoodie. This was my opportunity to contribute without fully revealing myself, I intend to deepen the debt between us he has to pay.

Luther’s lips curved in that evil smile, admiration flickering under the command. “Stubborn I see. It will serve you well tonight.”

As we moved through the dimly lit corridors together, Vesper’s warning coiled in my mind. You have six months left to make one sacrifice, Lena.

But with Luther’s warmth still branded on my skin and the magnetic attraction singing through my veins like a forbidden prophecy, I wondered if the true threat wasn’t the Obsidian Council or my Academy sisters.

It must be this ancient predator beside me, relentlessly claiming fragments of the weapon I had been forged to be.

And worse, I wasn’t certain I wanted to reclaim them.