I didn't know what I would do for fun once the hunts stopped for good; they were my last bit of true freedom in this world of responsibility. And it had been a month since my last hunt—the exact amount of time that the blood mage had been missing for—and I was antsy to get on with it.
I wanted to feel the air rushing around me as I moved faster than light through the streets. I wanted to fight with a mage and grasp them tight and taste the hot blood running into my mouth as they struggled against me.
Goddamnit, I wanted to feel like a true vampire again. So long now had I fed off the willing thralls that it felt like I hadn't earned the right to call myself vampire any longer.
Everyone else was fine with feeding off the thralls—and why not? It was good, fresh blood. Straight from the vein.
But it wasn't good enough for me. Not truly. Nothing would ever compare to the euphoria of a feed made from a fight.
I checked the belt one last time to make sure it was secure. I shouldn't need the sword for anything, but there was the possibility of running into a werewolf now. That hadn't been something we’d had to worry about for so long, but I wasn't going to get caught unaware.
And it wasn't your average, ordinary blade either. It was silver.
If the myths were right, it would kill a werewolf without things having to get messy.
Raoul and Alex stood on either side of my door, waiting for me.
"Are you gents ready for a fight?" I asked with a vicious grin on my face.
"You know me, Gray. I'm always ready for a fight," Alex said.
"This should be fun. I've been cooped up too long," Raoul said.
"You and me both," I said. "I can't wait to run."
We made our way out of the castle, and as soon as we were in the outside air we took off at a sprint.
God, but it was beautiful to feel alive again. To feel the stolen blood pumping rapidly through my veins and the wind tearing at my long hair, whipping it about my face.
We ran into the inner city, where things weren't as carefully controlled. This was where blood mages were most likely to be—they liked to haunt their old homes whenever possible, or at least be as close to them as they could. Nostalgia and all of that nonsense.
I didn't see why they risked themselves doing that. We vampires had never been so foolish. When it had been necessary to leave our homeland because of the vampire hunters, we had done so as pragmatically as possible.
There was no room for emotion when it came to survival.
I glanced at my friends as we ran, grinning at the sight of their grim faces. The hunt was setting into them and they would lose themselves in it for now.
I should throw myself over to the hunt as well. And yet something prickled at my mind, telling me that I should maintain awareness of my surroundings. It didn't seem necessary, and it would detract from the pleasure of the hunt, but I had learned to trust my instincts.
So I kept as aware as possible as we ran through the city, turning down several alleys and then back onto the streets as we hunted for signs of blood mages.
It would likely take us a while to pick up the trail of a blood mage tonight. Their ranks were few now that they had been rounded up like the vermin they were. There were only stragglers now, and these would be the smartest of the bunch. The ones that knew how to hide their heartbeats at all times instead of just when they were as still as possible.
Perhaps they would have even learned to avoid their old homes. They might have set up camp in someone else's abandoned apartment instead of remaining in the homes that they used to live in. The smartest of the mages had left the inner city as soon as the hunts had begun, but our warriors chased them even still.
And it wasn't just this city that we owned.
It was all of them. There were more vampires than ever now, though we had stopped allowing just anyone to turn someone. That now had to be approved by the King himself.
Normally, vampires are born, not turned. Turning is possible, although a dangerous process to go through, both for the vampire and the human that is chosen. Either of them could die during the process if they aren't careful, although it is more likely that the human would die than the vampire. In the first days of our takeover, there was a flurry of new vampires.
People turned anyone they wanted, and many of them died in the process.
That was why my father had proclaimed that all future turnings had to be approved by him, to protect the people from their own stupidity. And all turnings were now supervised by our Caretaker.
I thrust the thoughts from my mind at the sound of rattling down one of the alleys we had just passed.
"Double back," I said, already turning. Raoul and Alex took a moment longer than me, they were fully given over to the hunt now, but they obeyed as always. We ran down the alley, then slowed so that we could take in our surroundings.
I knew I had heard something down here. It was either blood mage or human, but more likely it was a blood mage, seeing as the alley was empty now. It was hiding somewhere.
There was that niggling sensation at the back of my mind. I needed to be aware of something, I felt like it was staring me right in the face, but I couldn't figure out what it was.
I turned slowly, and that was when I felt the danger of the situation.
"Get out," I hissed.
Instead, my damned friends closed in on me. Protecting me. They knew that my life was more precious than theirs—if I died, our line was doomed. The likelihood of my father finding a new mate and siring a new heir was unlikely at this point, though I assumed he would muster it up for the good of the people. Just like he did for everything else.
I shoved at Alex's shoulder, trying to get him to move out of the alley, but he was stubborn.
"You first, Prince," he said.
Right. Serious situation.
And then the alley flooded with bodies. I don't know why I hadn't been able to scent them sooner, but their animalistic musk was apparent as soon as they filled the alley.
Werewolves.
We were surrounded.
I yanked my sword from my belt, turning my back so that either of my shoulders were pressed against one of Raoul's and Alex's. So long as we maintained the triangle, we would be able to make it out of this, I was sure. If a wolf got onto our backs...but no, I couldn't think about that right now.
One of the men lunged them, darting in close to me, and I cut him down without hesitation, lopping his head off.
Even though it had not been necessary to hunt with a sword in a long time, I was not without practice. I had refused to allow my skills to rust, and I trained with the sword every day.
The training paid off now, as I moved without much thought, relying on muscle memory. I cut down three more wolves, and then the worst sound reached my ears.
Raoul's sharp cry of pain.
I whirled, not thinking of the danger of turning my back to the two wolves that had been before me.
Raoul's heart lay in the hand of one of the wolves.
The world spun and a red haze colored my vision.
My friend. My friend was dead. The wolves had killed him.
With a violent snarl, I leapt forward, and I lost myself in the killing. No wolf stood a chance against me when I was like this.
I was hatred. I was death.
When I came back to myself, I was standing over Raoul's corpse, bloody sword in one hand, and breathing hard. Alex's hand was on my shoulder, but I found no comfort in it.
Raoul was dead.
I felt something break inside of me, a crushing weight descending on me, but I knew that I was physically unharmed. Raoul had been my friend for decades now. I couldn't imagine a world that he wasn't a part of.
"Gray..." Alex started to speak but apparently could think of nothing to say beyond my name.
Shaking my head, I turned my back on his body. I had to collect myself. I had to remember that I was the Prince and that it was my duty to set an example. To figure out what was to b
e done.
I couldn't react emotionally. I couldn't give in to the crushing feeling that surrounded my heart like a vice.
What was I going to do without him?
I wanted to scream at the heavens for taking my friend from me, but there was no one to curse. I had slaughtered his killers in a rage that I had only succumbed to once or twice in my long life. The loss of my friend was enough to set me off, and I knew that I had to battle with myself to remain in control right now.
Alex was looking to me to determine what we would do next.
Lead, Grayson. That's all you can do. That's what you have to do.
"We need to get his body home," I said. To my credit, my voice did not crack, and I knew that my face gave no indication of the pain slicing through me like a sword.
Alex would know the pain I was in. I had known him longer than Raoul. He knew every one of my tells. There was no hiding myself from him.
I wanted to hide just now. I didn't want anyone to know what I was feeling, and I didn't want sympathy.
It was my fault Raoul was dead. I had been reckless, going out on a hunt when my father had told me time and again that these were dangerous times.
He would have found a different hunt to join if you had not organized one.
I knew that was the truth, but I also knew that if I hadn't been here Raoul and Alex would have fled the alley without hesitation. They had remained to protect me, unwilling to move without me. I was their highest priority, and my presence had killed my friend.
"It's not your fault, Gray," Alex said, knowing what I was thinking without my having to say it.
Grimacing, I turned back to look at him. "I know that you mean well, Alex, but we both know he would have survived if I had not been here."
Alex said nothing. There was nothing to say to that and we both knew it.
I knelt and collected my friend's body, holding him tight to my chest.
He had a wife. I was going to have to tell his wife he was dead.
Already, I could picture the look in her eyes when she learned the news. Caroline was a dear woman with a gentle heart, softening Raoul's sharp sides in ways that none of us could have ever imagined was possible. Her pain would exceed my own in ways I could not imagine.
Yet I found a small part of myself looking forward to talking with her. It would be a painful conversation, but I suspected that she could understand the depths of my pain. Of course, Alex felt it just as sharply as I did, but neither of us could give voice to the pain that raged inside of us.
Caroline was not bound by the principles that guided the males of our species, and I knew that when she wept it would give some release to my soul.
It was an inherently selfish thought, and it sickened me that I wanted it.
"Come." I barked the command to Alex and together we ran through the streets back to our castle.
It did not take us long, as we took the most direct path there. We weren't hunting any more, there was no need to dart down one alley or another. Our destination was set for us.
Raoul was a light weight in my strong arms, too light. I wanted a solid weight in my arms, dragging me down to the Earth, as penance for my folly. If he were heavy...
But no, there was no use thinking on that. I would have to satisfy myself with the weight that crushed my heart, it was enough to remind me that I had caused this.
I would carry it within me always.
Together, Alex and I walked up the steps of the castle. He opened the great door for me, and I swept inside with only a moment of hesitation. Once others laid eyes on Raoul's body, this would become real. There would be no way to deny what had happened, as a part of my mind so longed to do.
This late in the night, most everyone was gone about their business in the city. Some were looking for more thralls, others were just blowing off steam. Lady Caroline would be in her chambers, I suspected. Unaware of the painful devastation that was headed her way.
I wanted to spare her the pain as long as was possible, so I headed first for the throne room.
My father had to be informed of what had happened.
He sat on his throne, talking to one of his advisors, but fell silent as soon as his eyes lighted on me.
"Son," he said. His voice was quiet and emotionless, but I knew the horror that was inside his mind.
I alone knew his mind so well. To everyone else, it would appear that he didn't care what had happened, and likely they would rage against this. Raoul had been a beloved member of the court—not quite as much as Alex was, but still. His loss would be felt heavily by all of us.
"We were attacked," I said. I fought to keep my voice steady, knowing that I had to do what I could to appear as my father did.
Everyone could hate him for his emotionless mask, but they looked to him for indications of how to react. So long as he remained calm, so would they.
I walked forward and laid Raoul's body at my father's feet, taking a few steps back. My eyes were riveted on the corpse of my friend. I wanted to look away, wanted this all to be a horrible mistake that would be quickly forgotten. Most of all though, I wanted to remember Raoul as he had been and not as he was now.
But nothing could change the image that had been imprinted on my mind now. I would always see his pale face, the hole in his chest where his heart should have been. No longer would I see the small, subtle smile that he gave me when we joked together. No longer would I see the light in his eyes that only Caroline could bring out in him.
"What happened?"
"We were ambushed by wolves in an alley," I said. "There were many of them, but they are destroyed."
My father nodded, looking down at Raoul's body. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but more than that I wanted him to react. I wanted to see anger on his face. I wanted him to rage at the loss of my friend.
I wanted permission to do the same.
It would not be given to me.
"There will be no more hunts." There was a finality to his voice that brooked no argument.
I should have listened to that.
"Father!" I cried, my hands balling into fists. "We must root out the werewolves! This cannot be allowed to stand. His murderers have been killed, but the pack is likely to be far greater than just the ones we ran into. They must be destroyed. You cannot do this."
My father lifted his head slowly to lock his cold, empty eyes on me. There was no emotion in them, no rage at the fact that I had argued with him in front of others.
"You will know your place, my son," he said. "This crown is not yet yours, and you do not have permission to speak."
Rage consumed me anew, and for the first time in my life I knew a desire to attack my father. I wanted to beat him for his indifference towards Raoul's death. I wanted him to know that it was unacceptable.
I wanted him to feel my pain.
But I did none of these things. Instead, I averted my eyes in a show of deference. It was my duty to set the tone for how others would respond to my father, and I had broken decorum once already. I could not do so again. If I did, there would be consequences.
But I swore to myself that when I was King things would be different.
And no matter what my father said, I was going to eradicate the hunters.
Chapter 11
Nina
My breath came in sharp little pants as I took three steps back, eyeing the wolves in front of me. There were three standing together, a few paces apart, and then one on either side of me.
It wasn't a fair fight, but it had been weeks since I'd been given a fair one-on-one fight. Ever since I started doing well in these blasted training sessions, they had just escalated the stakes.
Movement to my right. I threw myself to the ground and rolled under the leaping werewolf, jumping back to my feet a moment later and whirling about to face them. Now I had two in front of me and three on my right—not much better than before, but I could see them all without having to rely on my peripheral vision.
The we
rewolf I had avoided snarled at me, his fists clenching together.
I bared my teeth at him in a savage grin. In the months of training with the wolves I had picked up a few of their mannerisms, though I resisted their practice of shit-talking the enemy.
It was a waste of breath. Breath that I dearly needed to hold my own against them in a fight.
The three on my right charged as one and it was all I could do to get out of the way for one of them, bringing up my arm to block the oncoming attack of another. I swung my free hand and slammed it into the gut of the offending werewolf, bringing my knee up sharply to meet his groin.
They didn't fight fair and neither did I.
He doubled over as he gasped for air and I brought both of my hands down together to slam into his back. He fell to the ground, but my victory was short lived.
Pain lanced through my scalp—the third werewolf I had ignored had me by the hair and was yanking me down.
Gritting my teeth, I compartmentalized the pain. Something I had learned in the years of torture at the vampire's hands—if you could ignore the pain then there wasn't much that they could do to you. It hadn't been a particularly useful trick as the torture sessions had gone on longer and longer until I gave in to the pain and screamed, but it certainly helped in a fight.
I twisted towards my attacker, forcing him to slacken his hold on my hair, and slammed my head into his chest. More pain cut through my concentration as I connected with the bones in his chest, but I succeeded in shocking him into dropping my hair.
Without hesitation, I straightened up and brought my leg up in a wide arc to slam into his face. I spun, anticipating the attacks of the other wolves, and ducked just in time to avoid a blow.
A crunching sound greeted my ears. My attacker's momentum had carried his arm over me and into the werewolf I'd head butted. I smirked at that and jumped back to my full height, bringing my fist up to connect with the new werewolf's chin.
His head snapped back, but he didn't allow it to break his concentration.
Instead, he swept his foot under my legs, knocking me to the ground.
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