I was destined to fall in love at age 20. I was fated to devour him as I turn 21.

Most half-bred would be destined to die before age 20 without even be coming of age.

I watched 10 of my siblings die before they turned 20. I was the only one who inherits most of my mother’s gene.

My mother was a 250 year old pureblood vampire and married another pureblooded vampire. It’s hard and rare for vampires to produce a child. It says only one baby vampire is born every 500 years. Mom luckily gave birth to one son, Alistair.

Even thought mom and her husband love each other, it gets boring spending millenniums together every single day. They decided to marry mortals to take away a few decades of their life to make it less boring. So mom married dad, a mortal man.

My father was a kind man. However, he wasn’t knowledgably of what my mother was. Who knew he’d pierce her heart with a hunter’s sword when he found out.

He found out about me becoming a vampire at 21, yet never tried to kill me. Actually, I lied. He did. Once. I was 11 and I look so much like my mother already. He held a sword to my heart, but instead, he dropped his sword, falling to his knees, bawling. I hated my father and left him.

I was happy to be born a half-breed because I never had to worry about death and aging. I moved in with Alistair, a 130 year old vampire. He loves me. He loves me not as a sister, but as a lover. For vampires, there is nothing such as taboo. It’s common and acceptable for siblings to get married and have . But Alistair was never more than a brother to me.

I love myself and my mother. I love who we are and what we are. But I hated my father.

Not only did I look like my mother, I have so much of my mother’s gene that I even have the scent of being a pureblood; I can be mistaken for a pureblood. This made my father hate me more. And that feeling is gladly returned. However, this also made my prey for my 20th year alive so much harder to kill.