Donovan vampire vows boo.., p.1
Donovan (Vampire Vows Book 3), page 1
DONOVAN
VAMPIRE VOWS
BOOK THREE
FEL FERN
Donovan © 2025 by Fel Fern
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. All characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.
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Vampire Vows series
Finn
Asher
Donovan
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CONTENTS
Blurb
1. Declan
2. Donovan
3. Declan
4. Donovan
5. Declan
6. Donovan
7. Declan
8. Donovan
9. Declan
10. Donovan/ Declan
11. Donovan
12. Donovan/ Declan
13. Declan/ Donovan
14. Declan/ Donovan
15. Donovan
16. Declan
17. Donovan
18. Declan/ Donovan
19. Donovan
A Preview of Saving Kit
About the Author
Also by Fel Fern
BLURB
Donovan was supposed to end him. Instead, he saved him. But at what cost?
Donovan has loved Declan since they were kids, but Declan was always just out of reach, too fearless and too untouchable. Then Declan became something else entirely. Turned into a vampire against his will, he’s on the verge of losing himself to the hunger, and there’s only one person he trusts to stop him before it’s too late. Donovan.
But when the moment comes, Donovan can’t pull the trigger. Instead, he does the one thing he swore he’d never do. He saves Declan. Now, with the Guild that trained them to be hunters on their trail and a pack of rabid vampires closing in, they’re backed into a corner with nowhere left to run.
Declan isn’t the same man he was before, and neither is Donovan. The bond between them is stronger than ever, but so is the darkness clawing at Declan’s soul. Donovan refuses to let him slip away, but loving a man who was never meant to survive comes at a price.
Is Declan truly saved, or has Donovan just doomed them both?
Donovan is book 3 of the Vampire Vows series.
CHAPTER ONE
DECLAN
THE PAST
The cemetery behind Guild Headquarters was silent, save for the occasional rustle of wind through brittle leaves and the distant hum of city traffic.
Most of the other hunters had left already, murmuring their fake condolences before leaving me to my thoughts.
I remained.
Hunkered down in front of their graves, I traced my fingers along the etched names of my parents. Joseph and Jane Dean. They were gone. Just like that.
I knew I should feel something. Grief, rage, the kind of burning hatred that would have me swearing vengeance on the vampire bastards who did this.
But there was nothing. A hollow space where the anger should be. An emptiness that felt bigger than me.
I clenched my jaw, my breath coming out in slow, measured exhales.
If I didn’t feel anything, did that mean I didn’t love them enough? Did it make me unworthy of being their son?
A sharp shuffle in the underbrush shattered the quiet. My body tensed, instincts flaring as I reached for the knife at my hip. Then—
A yelp.
Not an animal. Not a monster.
I turned sharply, scanning the shadows beyond the graves. There shouldn’t be anything out here. Not on Guild grounds. No supernatural would dare attack here.
My pulse hammered as I tracked the sound to a gnarled old tree, its branches clawing at the sky. Beneath it, tangled in a cluster of thorny bushes, was a boy.
He was small, maybe eleven or twelve, with dark-gold hair and eyes that caught the dim moonlight in a way that made them seem impossibly blue.
Scratches marred his arms, some fresh, others faint and faded.
His clothes were dirt-streaked, his expression somewhere between sheepish and amused.
I knew him.
“Donovan,” I said slowly.
Recognition clicked into place. One of three brothers. Orphans. Their parents had been taken by a vampire a year ago.
I remembered standing in a crowd at their funeral, my parents on either side of me, saying things like It’s a tragedy and Poor kids.
I’d barely paid attention. I hadn’t thought much about it afterward.
And yet, here he was.
I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”
Donovan hesitated, shifting his weight before pulling himself free of the bush, wincing as a thorn snagged on his sleeve.
He brushed off a few stray leaves and straightened, like getting caught lurking in a graveyard was completely normal for him.
“Nothing,” he finally said.
“Nothing?” I echoed, skeptical.
He met my gaze, unflinching, then shrugged. “I saw you sitting here alone. You looked… I dunno, lonely.”
I stared at him.
Lonely?
I should have laughed. I should have told him to get lost. Instead, a sharp coil of something hot and defensive twisted in my chest.
“I don’t need company,” I said, voice flat.
Donovan nodded, then gestured toward the tree. “Yeah. Figured as much. That’s why I climbed up there instead.”
I blinked. “You what?” I asked.
He gestured toward a thick, low-hanging branch, as if that explained everything.
My patience snapped. I grabbed his arm, none too gently. “Were you spying on me?”
“No.” He wriggled in my grip, not exactly struggling but not backing down either. “I just stayed. You didn’t look like you wanted anyone to talk to you, so I figured I’d, y’know… watch instead.”
My fingers tightened around his arm. “That’s not any better.”
Donovan’s mouth twitched. “I know.”
Something about his tone made me want to shake him.
Instead, I let go, stepping back. He rubbed his wrist, not like it hurt, more like he was acknowledging the moment.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “You’re a little weird, you know that?”
That would make him go away, I thought in satisfaction.
Instead of looking insulted, Donovan grinned. “Asher and Finn say that all the time.”
There was something almost easy about the way he said it, like he wasn’t afraid of being called strange, like it didn’t matter to him.
Like he already knew who he was and didn’t care if other people understood it.
Something about that made my chest ache.
I stared at him, trying to find the words to make him leave, to tell him that I wanted to be alone, that I didn’t need some kid watching over me like a stray dog looking for scraps of companionship.
But the truth was, I didn’t have the energy to fight him on it.
I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. “Fine. Stay if you want.”
Donovan brightened, like I’d just handed him some grand invitation instead of the reluctant half-grumble that it was.
But he didn’t gloat or push his luck. He just plopped down beside me, settling onto the cold, uneven ground as if he belonged there.
As if this, sitting in a graveyard in the dead of night, next to someone he barely knew, was the most natural thing in the world.
We sat in silence for a while.
The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of voices drifted from Guild Headquarters.
I glanced at Donovan out of the corner of my eye. He was quiet, arms draped over his knees, gaze distant. Not pushing, not trying to make conversation. Just there.
And somehow, his presence made the crushing emptiness a little more bearable.
“I’m hungry,” Donovan suddenly declared.
It should have annoyed me. After all, we were sitting in a graveyard, my parents' names etched in cold stone in front of us.
But somehow, I wasn’t even mad at the selfishness of his request. If anything, the absurdity of it pulled me out of my head for the first time since the funeral.
I turned to him, arching a brow. “Yeah?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
There was a wake happening inside Guild Headquarters. One I was supposed to be at, pretending to be grateful for people’s condolences, pretending to care when I barely felt anything.
There was probably a spread of food, people gathering, whispering things about me when they thought I wasn’t listening.
I didn’t want to be there.
“I have a better idea,” I told Donovan, pushing to my feet.
He looked up at me, curious. “Yeah?”
“Why don’t we sneak down to the kitchens and see what they’ve got?”
His eyes widened. “You mean steal food?”
“I mean,” I said, “borrow food.”
He laughed at that, quick and bright, and I found myself not hating the sound. He scrambled up beside me, brushing dirt off his knees. “Alright, I’m in.”
Sneaking into the kitchens wasn’t exactly difficult. The Guild was full of hunters, not spies, and no one
We slipped through the back halls, avoiding the main gathering rooms, where the murmur of voices still carried.
The kitchen lights were dimmed for the night, but the scent of food still lingered in the air—bread, roasted meat, something sweet underneath it all.
I led the way, careful to step lightly across the old tile floor.
Donovan, to his credit, actually tried to be quiet, though the occasional shuffle of his sneakers made me shoot him a glare.
“Sorry,” he whispered, looking sheepish.
I rolled my eyes and pushed forward.
The kitchen was mostly empty, save for a few plates left out from the wake. And there it was. A half-eaten vanilla cake, sitting abandoned on the counter.
Jackpot.
I turned to Donovan. “Think anyone’s gonna miss this?” I asked him.
“Not if we eat it fast enough,” he whispered back.
I grabbed two forks from the drawer, slid the plate between us, and we dug in like we hadn’t eaten in days. The cake was slightly stale, but neither of us cared. It was ours now.
Donovan talked a lot, which was fine with me, because I didn’t have much to say. I’d always been quiet, more comfortable listening than speaking.
Most kids found that unnerving, like silence was something to be filled instead of just being. But Donovan didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he was immune to the awkwardness my quiet usually created.
The vanilla cake was gone in minutes. Donovan chattered as he rifled through cupboards and the icebox, pulling out more leftover cake, a hunk of cheese, and some bread like he’d done this a hundred times before.
I leaned against the counter, watching as he cut two uneven slices of cake.
“Finn always whines that Asher bosses us around too much,” Donovan said. “But Finn’s the real troublemaker between the three of us, I swear. You wouldn’t believe half the stuff he’s dragged me into.”
He handed me a plate before taking a seat at the long wooden table.
Donovan continued, “One time, he convinced me to help him steal Asher’s boots and bury them in the garden. Asher was so pissed. He ended up chasing us halfway across the grounds before Finn tripped and took me down with him.
Despite myself, I smirked. “Sounds like you’re all troublemakers.”
Donovan grinned around a mouthful of cake.
“Maybe.” He swallowed, then shrugged. “But I think it’s just Finn. He’s got way too much energy. Sometimes I think Asher only yells at him so much ‘cause he’s worried about him.”
I hummed in response, chewing slowly.
I was an only child. I didn’t have brothers to get into trouble with or fight with or look out for. Hearing Donovan’s stories fascinated me in a way I hadn’t expected.
It was a glimpse into something I never had.
And it took my mind off my parents.
I should’ve felt guilty about that. About the way I clung to distractions instead of dealing with what happened. But the weight of grief, of anger, of whatever the hell I was supposed to be feeling had been suffocating all day.
Sitting here, listening to Donovan complain about his brothers, was the first time I didn’t feel like I was drowning in it.
We ate in silence for a bit, the only sound the scrape of forks against plates and the occasional creak of the old wooden chairs.
I thought maybe Donovan would just keep talking about his brothers, about anything that had nothing to do with death or loss, but then he glanced up at me, blue eyes sharper than before.
“So,” he said, watching me, “are you sad?”
I froze, fork halfway to my mouth. “What?”
“About your parents,” he said. “Are you sad they’re gone?”
The question hit me harder than I expected.
My first instinct was to scoff, to throw up a wall so fast he couldn’t see how the question actually unraveled something inside me.
I shrugged instead, trying for indifference. “I never really knew them,” I told him.
Donovan frowned.
I forced a laugh, though it sounded fake even to me.
“They were always gone. Always on assignments, doing important work, making the world safer or whatever. The Guild practically raised me.” I scraped at the empty plate with my fork, as if there were still something left to eat. “So, what’s there to miss?”
It was bravado, of course. A lie wrapped in something that sounded like the truth. Deep down, I had loved them.
Even if they hadn’t really known me. Even if they’d cared more about hunting monsters and making the world a better place than being my parents.
Donovan didn’t say anything for a moment.
Then, quietly, he said, “It’ll get better.”
I frowned.
He didn’t look at me, just traced patterns against the counter with his fingertip.
“It hurts at first,” he continued, his voice softer than before. “And even the smallest things will remind you of them. But it passes.”
I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in.
I’d nearly forgotten he’d lost his parents a year ago.
I remembered seeing him at the funeral, remembered not thinking much of it at the time because my own parents were still alive.
But now, sitting here with him, I realized he knew. He knew exactly what this felt like.
I swallowed. “Yeah?” I asked. “That how it was for you?”
Donovan nodded.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
I thought today would be the worst day of my life.
I thought I’d spend it alone, feeling like an outsider even at my own parents’ funeral. But somehow, it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected.
Because I wasn’t alone.
I glanced at Donovan, and for the first time, the weight in my chest didn’t feel so crushing.
Maybe, just maybe, I’d made a friend.
My first real friend.
CHAPTER TWO
DONOVAN
THE PRESENT
The icy wind cut through my jacket as I crouched behind the crumbling wall of an abandoned farmhouse, my breath clouding in the frigid night air.
The others were moving into position, shifting shadows against the overgrown grass and skeletal trees.
I should have been focused. Should have been scanning for movement, listening for the telltale sound of rustling leaves or unnatural stillness.
Instead, my fingers curled around my phone inside my pocket.
No messages.
No missed calls.
Nothing.
Asher had gone off-grid weeks ago. No warning. No explanation. Just vanished.
Then Declan found him, by accident, of all things, while on a mission.
He barely had time to tell me before dropping another bombshell. Asher wasn’t alone. He was with a vampire. A bloody vampire.
Declan tried to talk sense into him, tried to convince him to come home, but Asher refused. He’d been stubborn.
More than that, resistant. Like he wasn’t even the same person I’d grown up with.
And then, before I could even process that, Declan went radio silent too.
Now both of them were off the grid. And it was driving me out of my mind.
Asher used to be the logical one. The steady one. But after Finn disappeared, something inside him cracked.
He stopped thinking things through. Stopped being careful. Recklessness replaced reason.
It was like I didn’t even know him anymore.
And then there was Declan.
I’d known him for too long, understood him too well.
He wasn’t the kind of person to just disappear.
Something was wrong. I felt it in my bones.
“Donovan.”
Kit’s voice snapped me back to the present. He was crouched a few feet away, eyes sharp despite the darkness.
A fresh scar cut across his jaw, another reminder that I was supposed to be watching his back, not obsessing over something I couldn’t control.
I forced my grip to tighten around the hilt of my hunting knife instead of my phone.
“I’m good,” I told him.
Kit didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and turned his attention back toward the farmhouse.
