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184


Fucking Vexley. Just sitting across from the Warden and his sons made my skin crawl. They were the ones who orchestrated the attack on my parents, and yet, here I was, forced to endure their presence. I should have wrapped my hands around their throats, squeezed until their smug expressions twisted in agony. But I couldn’t. Not yet. There was no proof, and those bastards were experts at eliminating witnesses.

I despised them just as much as those mongrels from the Southern Moon Pack. As Lord Protector and future king, I had the strength to crush them all, to turn them into dust beneath my heel. And yet, I was shackled, forced to sit still and say nothing. Why?

Because King Alaric willed it.

The old vampire, in his infinite wisdom, had decided it would be “refreshing” to hold our annual meeting in his mansion deep in the godforsaken Skyline Valley. As if dragging us to the middle of nowhere wasn’t bad enough, he made sure I suffered the company of both Warden Vexley and Selene.

I’d had enough.

For two hours, I stared at the faces of the men who had hired Cassius Marwood and his mongrels to attack my home and slaughter my family. That was more than enough to count as participation. Still wearing the black coat from the morning meeting, I moved to the window, pushed it open, and jumped—three stories down, landing without a sound.

Gareth would follow, no doubt. He always did. But the last thing I needed was an overprotective shadow breathing down my neck.

I ran.

Fast. Too fast for any of Gareth’s men to keep up. In mere seconds, the mansion was a distant memory, lost in the blur of trees and shadows. I ran until I found myself on an empty road, a rusted sign swaying in the wind.

Welcome to Thornmere Town.

Then came the rain.

It felt like the gods were mocking me. First, Vexley. Now this. I didn’t mind the rain, but I did mind my favorite coat getting soaked. Muttering a curse under my breath, I kept moving, heading deeper into the town. Every street looked the same—dull, colorless, like a place that had long since surrendered to despair.

A store caught my eye. Outside, a box full of umbrellas stood beneath a flickering light. Every single one was some shade of gray or black, blending perfectly with the miserable atmosphere. I grabbed one, tossed a fifty-dollar bill in its place, and kept walking.

I wasn’t any calmer. If anything, my irritation only grew.

Then, just as I was about to turn a corner, I felt it.

A scent.

Rich, intoxicating, laced with something that sent a sharp pulse through my veins. My steps slowed, my instincts sharpened, and I found myself drawn toward a small café—Ophelia Frost Café.

Through the window, I spotted her.

Black hair. Emerald eyes.

Her scent.

It wrapped around me, pulling me closer, demanding my attention. She stood by the door, reaching for the tiny bell, completely unaware of me. The temptation to play a little trick struck before I could stop myself. Smirking, I opened the door just as she stepped forward.

She lost her balance.

I regretted it the moment she fell into my arms.

The instant her scent fully hit me, my fangs ached to descend. Control had never been an issue for me, yet now, with her in my grasp, I nearly fell to my knees.

"Are you my angel..?"

Her voice was soft, breathless. The sound of it made keeping my fangs in check even harder. I forced a small smile, focusing on anything but the hunger roaring inside me.

She was warmth. She was temptation.

And I had no idea why I wanted her so badly.

"Um… I’m s-sorry… and... t-thank you!"

Fuck. Even her nervous stutter was adorable.

Was this because I hadn’t fed properly last night? That had to be it. My body was overreacting to a lack of human blood. There was no other explanation.

I took a slow breath. Steady.

"You're welcome."

I released her, watching her closely as she hurried to compose herself. Her body. Her scent. Everything about her tugged at something primal inside me. And that was dangerous.

I walked past her and took the seat farthest from the counter, needing distance before I did something reckless. A minute later, she approached, menu in hand.

My eyes flicked to her gloves. White. Cotton.

"What's with the gloves?"

She hesitated, instinctively tucking her hands away. Defensive.

"Just a habit," she murmured.

"A habit," I echoed, watching her carefully.

It was clear she didn’t like the question. And I had the distinct feeling there was more to it than she let on. Either way, it gave my mind something to latch onto—something other than the need to sink my teeth into her throat.

I ordered coffee. Teased her a little, just to see her fluster. The more nervous she got, the more of that scent she released, and I wasn’t above using that to my advantage. Her name tag caught my attention as she returned with my drink.

Thalassa.

The name suited her.

A faint blush colored her cheeks as she met my gaze, and I knew—knew—I was close to snapping. If not for the unwanted company of two men at the counter and another patron nearby, I might have already given in to the hunger clawing at my insides.

I forced my attention to the coffee.

Then I heard it.

A sharp noise.

One of the bastards by the counter had grabbed her hand.

My fangs extended instantly.

How dare he touch her?

The rage was sudden, irrational, but undeniable. I had no reason to care. No reason to react. And yet, the moment I caught the scent of her blood, I nearly lost myself.

I had to get out.

Slamming a hundred-dollar bill onto the table, I moved—fast, vanishing through the door before my control slipped entirely. No one even noticed me leave. But just in case, I pulled out my phone and sent Gareth a quick message.

Wipe the surveillance footage.

Then I powered it off. I didn’t need anyone tracking me.

I exhaled, expecting relief. Instead, my senses were hit with something else.

Wolves.

Their scent curled through the air, and my thoughts immediately returned to the Vexleys. If wolves were in this town, it had to be for a reason.

Following their scent, I scaled a fire escape and perched on a rooftop, observing. Three of them. Then a howl split the night, signaling they had found what they were searching for.

I followed.

What I found made my blood boil.

Thalassa.

Cornered. Fighting. Against wolves.

Rage ignited inside me, fierce and uncontrollable. Every instinct screamed for me to tear them apart, to rip their throats out for daring to lay a hand on her.

I clenched my fists, forcing restraint.

I didn’t know her. She wasn’t mine. This wasn’t my fight.

And yet…

Seeing her like this hurt in a way I didn’t understand.

And I never let myself feel pain.

As the needle plunged into her delicate veins, injecting a lethal dose of whatever poison they had chosen, my rage spiraled beyond control. I could hear her heartbeat weakening—fading, beat by fragile beat. The dose was too much for her frail body. My claws extended instinctively, my fury ignited further by the foul stench of wolves polluting the air.

I moved swiftly, a blur between the two who had been dragging Thalassa, ensuring that every single mongrel present took notice of me. Their stunned expressions were almost amusing—they gawked at me as though I were some ghostly apparition.

"Idiots," I scoffed, my voice dripping with cold amusement.

A red-haired bastard, who reeked of authority, stepped forward, his glare sharp. "Who the hell are you?"

I chuckled darkly, my fingers itching to wreak havoc. "You don't need to know that."

Another fool took a step forward, his arrogance laughable. "Leave now if you know what's good for you."

I smirked, daring him with a tilt of my head. "Can't do that."

His wolfish instincts overrode any common sense he might have had, and he lunged, foot swinging in a poorly aimed kick. Catching his leg mid-air and snapping it like a twig took no effort at all. His agonized howl rang through the air.

The redhead snarled. "You're dead!"

I exhaled, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. "You can't kill me... I'm already dead."

I waited, knowing he would charge. He was foolish enough to do it in his human form. I might have toyed with them longer, but then I heard it—Thalassa’s heartbeat faltering, her fragile body slumping. She lay still, her glassy eyes struggling to cling to the last shred of consciousness.

Rage consumed me entirely. They would pay for this.

I couldn’t kill them outright, and carving them up would be unnecessarily messy. So, I chose another way—I broke them. I crushed their limbs, ensuring they wouldn’t heal for days. But the redhead, the one who had made Thalassa cower in fear, deserved something special. Instinctively, I despised him.

I seized him, slamming him to the ground with such force that the earth trembled beneath us. Then, one by one, I shattered his vertebrae. He screamed—his cries slicing through the night—but I was unrelenting. Only when he slipped into unconsciousness did I release him, satisfaction humming through my veins.

Turning back to Thalassa, I knew I was running out of time. Her scent was fading, its once-irresistible pull dulled by the drug coursing through her system. Those idiotic wolves had meant to sedate her for a few hours, but instead, they had given her something that would either end her life or plunge her into an indefinite coma.

Her lips parted in a whisper of desperation. "P... please... don't... k-kill me..."

I crouched beside her, tilting my head. "Well... let me think about that."

I should have let her die. Any other stranger in her position would have meant nothing to me. But something within me twisted at the thought of her slipping away. I should have drained her, taken every last drop of the blood that called to me like a siren’s song—but I couldn’t. My mind shut out reason, my body acting of its own volition as I lifted her into my arms.

I carried her away from those worthless mongrels, cradling her fragile form as I found an empty park bench. Gritting my teeth, I extended my claws. What I was about to do was nothing short of a crime—I was about to give her my blood.

She was already unconscious as I brushed my thumb over her soft, parted lips, pressing a few drops past them. I waited, unmoving, until the steady rhythm of her heartbeat returned.

Exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I traced my fingers lightly over her cold cheek. Colder than mine. Before I could second-guess myself, I shrugged off my coat and draped it over her. That was all I could do. I left her there, hoping against all logic that she would survive.

"Master!" Gareth’s voice rang through the darkness, tinged with concern.

I turned, sighing. "Let’s go," I muttered, moving away from the bench where I had left Thalassa.

Gareth frowned, his sharp gaze shifting between me and the unconscious woman. "Who is she?"

He was the one who had found me after my bloodlust had claimed Selene Mariner on a full moon’s night. He had seen my torment, my regret. From then on, he had sworn to keep me away from humans.

"A nobody," I said coldly. I needed to convince him. Hell, I needed to convince myself. Because for reasons I didn’t yet understand, she mattered.

But fate had its own plans. No matter how many times I walked away, it kept throwing us back together, forcing me to confront emotions I couldn’t name—raw, untamed, and undeniable.

"I must be the luckiest bastard alive," I murmured, waking to find my Queen beside me.

Thalassa slept soundly, her raven hair spilling across the pillow, partially veiling her radiant face. I reached out, brushing the strands away, drinking in the sight of her. Even now, I could hardly believe she had forgiven me time and time again despite my stubborn defiance of our bond.

The silk sheets barely concealed her bare body, her soft breaths rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Even after keeping her awake all night, desire still stirred within me. A quiet chuckle escaped my lips.

"Stop staring at me and check on Giselle," she muttered, her eyes remaining closed.

Smirking, I leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss against her lips. "Your wish is my command, my Queen."

She peeked up at me, emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. "Go, and I’ll reward you when you return," she purred, teasing.

Groaning in anticipation, I slipped from bed and strode to the nursery. Our little princess slept soundly, curled within her pink cradle, her tiny fingers clutching the blanket.

Pride swelled in my chest. She had been born with the strength of a noble vampire, yet she had never thirsted for blood. She was something new—something greater. My precious wonder, just like her mother.

I adjusted her blanket, then turned back, already anticipating the moment I would return to Thalassa.

Sliding under the sheets once more, I pulled her close. "Let’s not leave the bedroom today," I murmured, nuzzling her neck. "The world will survive without us for one day."

She chuckled, wrapping her arms around me. "Whatever you wish, my King."

Then she kissed me—soft, slow, intoxicating. And I knew without a doubt… I would never let her go.