A/N: Hey guys! This is my new book, Bloodlines. Here's the first chapter so let me know what you think😁 

A note before you read-

I'm not Italian or Spanish, so if I've got translations wrong please feel free to correct me

English translations will be at the bottom of the page when appropriate.

So without further ado, I hope you enjoy my story! 

Beth xx

Bloodlines

I hadn't expected my quiet evening to turn into quite the dramatic affair that was to develop, as the night drew to a close. 

That's the funny thing with life though, isn't it? We watch movies with evil villains from the future and superheroes saving alternate universes, full well knowing it's so far from the truth and real world. My average, somewhat boring existence changed drastically that night and unbeknownst to me would never be the same again. The new life I was to be thrown into would rival any blockbuster bestseller, with some unique and interesting characters to tell the story along the way. 

At least, that's what it felt like, the day I was kidnapped. 

Let's rewind and I'll explain everything. 

There I was, snuggled up on the sofa under my cosy feather duvet, our ginger Tom cat curled in a ball at my feet, enjoying the warmth my body emitted. In November, England felt bitter. In fact, it maintained a generally low temperature for the best part of the year. That's my opinion anyway, but then mum did often refer to me as a 'cold soul.'

Tonight happens to be the return of my absolute favourite television show; The Walking Dead. I'd been hooked, like the majority of the population, from the start and was anxious for the long and boring lull between seasons to come to an end. It was always worth the wait though, the directors didn't dare disappoint. 

"Phwoar! Look at those tight butt cheeks, Tavie."

Holding my phone tight against my ear, I burst out laughing at my best friend's reaction to Norman Reedus on the screen. I have to admit, the guy has a nice ass.

"Sophia," I reply still chuckling, "The guy just impaled his knife into a zombies face and you're staring at his ass?" 

Sophia Atkins has been my best friend ever since Mum and I had moved to the United Kingdom a few years ago. We met halfway through secondary school when I joined, and we immediately bonded, relishing in each other's company like we'd known each other all our lives. She was a refreshing change from the rest of girls in the school, who hung around in groups dependant on their fashion sense and monetary status. No, Sophia was an independent, headstrong woman that didn't take shit from anyone. 

"Absolutely," she affirms, and I can sense the massive grin on her face." Get your priorities right, Tavie." 

A smile cracks across my lips, as I study the rugged vision on the TV, "That's kind of not the point, Soph. Are you even following the story?"

"Ish," she replies sheepishly, and I have to roll my eyes at her tact. "Even covered in blood and zombie guts, that man is damn fine." 

"Sure, he's hot," I agree finally, giving into her. My best friend could talk the hind legs off a donkey, and it was already getting dark outside. 

"Oh, did you finish that Literacy homework for Miss Callaway's class tomorrow? It's freaking hard." She moans, suddenly switching off-topic, before releasing a long, drawn-out sigh that sounds like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

I shake my head no, even though there's no way Sophia can see the gesture through our telephone conversation. I never understand why people do that.

"No," I grumble back miserably. "I was going to finish it tonight. In fact, I guess I should start it soon unless I want to be up until midnight." 

"Sure," she replies with a giggle. "I'll catch you tomorrow then."

As I bid her farewell, a tremendous crashing noise echoes throughout the walls. It appears to originate from the kitchen. With my senses immediately on high alert, my mind races through a million different scenarios simultaneously, all of which are negative of course and most ending in my ultimate demise. When placed in moments like this, your brain never conjures up happy thoughts, does it?

Pussyfooting like a tiny mouse on the tips of my toes, I creep around the furniture, through the living room, and down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen. Mum works late nights at the hospital every Monday, so I know I'm the only one who should be in the house. Unfortunately, that means the suspicious noise has been created by something else, probably something undeniably rational, like a curious cat not so successfully sneaking in through the window. 

Either that or someone is in my house. 

"Tavie, are you there? What was that awful banging?" Sophia questions as the phone in my hand vibrates.

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Gulping down the lump in my throat, and trying my hardest to tuck the irrational thoughts to the back of my head, I carefully push the kitchen door ajar, leaving a gap just wide enough to fit my head through and peer inside.

 My heart stops beating there and then.

 Pots, pans, and various other utensils that had been neatly stacked up by the window ledge now litter the floor below, and stood directly above them, to my utter horror, is a figure dressed from head to toe in black. 

The broad outline of the person definitely gives the impression of the male gender. Since my feet have decided to root themselves to the spot, I make my best efforts to hold my breath as I slowly proceed to close the door. Regrettably, my mum had chosen the house based on its age and character, insisting that these types of houses fetched a better price on the market at resale. 

As soon as I apply the lightest of pressure, the ancient wood-panelled door produces a horrific creaking, one that probably would have alerted anyone within a five-mile radius, let alone the guy who stood less than a metre in front of me. I gasp inwardly, as his head jerks up to face me, watching me with dark eyes through the tiny window in his hood. His eyes flick to the phone clutched in my hand.

"Shit," I mutter instantly.

Then everything happens too fast for me to contemplate any plan of action. I slam the door shut hard, just as the guy begins bounding through the sea of cutlery and kitchenware to get to me. Looking back if it hadn't been me in that situation, it most likely would have made for dead funny viewing. 

Without thinking, I dart to the front door only to realise mum has locked me in, and as usual, I have no idea where my spare key was hiding. Cursing my tardiness, I race back to the living room, impeccably timed to see my new friend at the door on the opposite wall. A high pitched, dare I say it 'girly' scream escapes my lips as I spin to face the way I came. Pulling the door close after me I pray it will delay my pursuer, even if for a short period. What? It works in video games...

"Tavie! What the hell's going on over there?!" The panicked voice demands through the phone, that I'd managed to keep clutched in my fist the whole time. I hold the device to my ear

"Soph! Help, there's someone in my house. Call the-" 

My voice is cut off when I slip carelessly on a decrepit wooden panel from the staircase, that juts into the air just enough to be at a dangerous angle. All I can do is watch as my phone flees from my grasp, plunging to the floor with a dreadful clatter. 

Without a second thought, I leap up the stairs two at a time, knowing the man is close on my tail. As my chest hits the edge of the pine bannister overlooking the hallway below, I realise far too late that I've run as far as I can. There is no way in hell I'd live to tell the tale if I jump from this height, and the only door to my left is mums study which has been locked as far back as I can remember. 

I press my back flat against the cold wood, waiting and listening, for the footsteps that inch closer with every wheezy breath I take. The dark figure ascends the stairs with perfect poise, marching until there's less than a metre distance between us. His body is lean but the muscle is clearly visible beneath his clothes. He would one hundred per cent win in a fight against me. Then again, most people would. My body shakes in fear from my fingers to my toes as he towers over me.

"Come on now, it's the end of the road," his voice is deeper than I was expecting, and his tone slow, with an unmistakable twang of an Italian accent. "You may as well come quietly." 

My pupils dance around the hall anxiously, checking every direction. A tall glass vase is the only thing that stands between me and the man. Glancing down confirms my previous thoughts. I wouldn't survive the fall to the bottom floor. At the very least, I'd break bones, which would absolutely result in my untimely death, or worse. Without so much as a second thought, I grab the vase at my side and hurl it with as much force as I can muster straight at his family jewels. In an instant, he drops like a sack of bricks holding his crotch and writhing about like a worm. Predicting I have limited time before he recovers, I take that as my moment to escape.

"Ow, you little- Dio dannato!" 

I fly down the stairs but due to my haste, albeit stupidity, I forget about the loose floorboard a second time. Before long, I've tripped again, landing flat on my tummy on the shiny floor. Profanities spew from my lips as pain blossoms through the arm that was squashed underneath my weight. Winding through the hurt, I force my weight to my knees. 

My phone lies ahead, alone in the middle of the hall. I stretch my arm out as far as it will, my fingertips just short of the plastic case when unexpectedly a heavy booted foot crashes down on top of it narrowly missing my fingers. Following that, I hear an unpleasant crack, as my phone splits into two beneath the intense pressure.

Dumbfounded I stare up at the phone murdering culprit instantly taken aback, all the words that teetered on my tongue now lost. A different man from the one in the ninja suit glares at me with the most fascinating almond-shaped eyes. I can't help but appreciate how damn easy on the eyes he is which causes my cheeks to flush scarlet with heat. Definitely not something I should be thinking at this moment.  

He stands tall, there's no doubt about that and judging by the muscles attempting to break free beneath his shirt he's undeniably well built. Locks of shiny, dusky toffee coloured hair hang in a dishevelled manner over a pair of deep brown eyes the colour of chocolate, which I'm currently battling internally to avert my gaze away. His fingers trace through his hair before running down a solid jawline. Settling on his chin, he rubs at the rough stubble, all the while watching me with an amused smirk, cocksure of the effect he's having on me. Travelling down his body past an indisputably expensive shirt and jacket combination, I'm met with a pair of loosely fitted slacks, and shoes so shiny my reflection stares back at me. A dry cough from above alerts my attention back to his face. I shake my head, bringing myself out of the trance and attempt my best glare.

"You broke my freaking iPhone!" I shriek, having been witness to my poor phones death just seconds ago. "Do you know how long it took me to save up for that thing?" 

Once I cease yelling, the man lets out a deep chuckle, clearly finding the whole situation amusing. He bends carefully to crouch down level with me and I quickly withdraw, as I'm hit by a wave of his heady cologne. Unsurprisingly his fingers are rough when he grasps my chin and uses them to hoist up my head. A minute passes while he examines me closely.

"Are you really that stupid?" He enquires with emphasis on the 'that' "Believe me, Octavia. Your broken iPhone is the least of your problems right now." 

"Y-you know my name?" My voice shakes out tiny and broken, not how I'd envisioned it to sound at all. 

"What a sudden change in attitude, Babydoll," he snickers in return, as his eyebrows raise upwards in self-satisfaction. His eyes never once leave mine as he climbs gracefully to his feet, before smoothing down the lapels on his jet black jacket. Finally free of their imprisonment my eyes flick sideways filling me with immediate relief. He turns towards the staircase, glancing up at the guy descending the stairs. "Ezio! You alright?" 

The man in black, whom I'm guessing at this point to be Ezio, appears moments later at the foot of the stairs still clutching his manhood. Now free of the mask he glares at me with the ferocity of a lion.

"Quasi," he grunts back, and I have no idea what that means. "Who would have thought such a little girl had so much power." 

"I'm not a little girl you Douchebag!" I retaliate, instantly biting my tongue to shut my foolish mouth. 

Tuxedo raises both eyebrows at me, looking a little perplexed.

"Well. Aren't you just a little firecracker, " he scoffs, reaching towards me with one of his large hands. Before I can scamper away, he's gripped the back of my pyjamas and hauled me to my feet, pinning me tightly against his chest. His scent overpowers me almost to the point I feel nauseous.

"But I'd keep that pretty little tongue of yours to yourself. If you want to keep it." 

And with that terrifying threat in the open, he grabs my ponytail in his fist and yanks my head backwards until I'm uncomfortably close to his face. I try my hardest to fight against him but it's all in vain.

"You ready with that needle Ez?" Tuxedo calmly questions his comrade with his eyes fixed on mine, a ghost of a smile tugging tauntingly at his lips. I'm glad someone finds my complete helplessness amusing.

"What the-?! No! Wait! Please!" I scream as loud as possible until he clamps a gloved hand over my mouth to muffle my cries of help. The familiar smell of leather fills my nostrils. 

"Shh, it'll all be over soon Doll," he coos while tightening his grip on me if that was physically possible. 

Next thing I know the Italian male is hovering above me with a full syringe clutched between his teeth. I twist and buck, desperately trying to free myself and escape. 

"Ez, stab her with it will you!" Tuxedo orders, struggling to keep me still. 

Shortly after, an uncomfortable prick at the base of my neck tells me Ezio has jabbed me with whatever was in the syringe. It doesn't take long for the drug to take effect. I feel myself getting sleepy, and my muscles become limp in the strong arms that hold me upright. 

"Dulces Suenos." 

That is the last thing I hear before my eyes shut tight.

..............................................................................................................................................

Translations:

Dio Dannato- God dammit

Quasi- Just

Dulces Suenos- Sweet dreams