Chapter 11

Lucian’s POV

There was something so poetic about walking into my father's domain knowing fully well he despised me.

The hall was exactly as I remembered—cold, grand, and drenched in old power. My father sat atop his glamorous throne-like chair that remained from a time when Vampires still considered themselves Kings.

Dear Cassius Vaughn had refused to let go of the power that comes with being King and insisted I walk in his very entitled shoes

“Lucian,” he said, his frown at my casual suit very apparent.

I step forward, offering a slow, lazy bow to the king himself. “Father.”

His gaze lingered on me for a bit too long and I could tell what was coming next—an unbearable long lecture. I waited for him to begin, hands tucked into my pockets.

“How long do you intend to disgrace your lineage? You’ve had your fun roaming about, but it’s time to return and act like a proper prince.”

And there it was.

“You're not living up to your status,” he continued, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Ignoring your responsibilities. Do you think the title of prince is just a decoration?”

I waited. Let him talk. He always liked to talk.

“You should be here, advising, leading. Instead, you act like a rogue, gallivanting wherever you please. Indulging in rotten pleasures.”

I said nothing, my eyes fixed to a gold tassle in a corner.

“I'm speaking to you!” He suddenly boomed.

My eyes narrowed as I looked up at him, meeting his deep gaze as he looked down at me from his fancy throne. Was he trying to… intimidate me?

A sneer formed on the corners of my lips. “I can see a double chin, father.”

His eyes widened in frustration. “You—”

“Cut to the chase, Your Majesty,” I sighed, tired of the performance. “Skip to the part where you actually tell me what you want.”

Father's eyes darkened as he eyed me, clearly regretting the impulsive mistake that ended up producing such a demon like myself. He held himself back from commenting.

Then finally, he stood. “Come with me.”

Without waiting for my response, he strode toward a side corridor, past heavy doors and down musty winding steps that led into a dungeon deep underground. I followed, my steps unhurried. My father rarely showed his hand so easily—if he was bringing me to see something, then it was bad.

The scent of damp stone thickened the deeper we walked in, mixed with something else, the stench of something both strange and familiar. Death.

The chamber we entered was dimly lit, with torches flickering on their stands. Rows of open coffins lined the walls, their contents out for anyone to see like a bizzare exhibition. I stepped closer, observing them.

Vampires, all vampires. Dried corpses, twisted and withered, their mouths frozen mid-scream. I recognised them all.

Raffael. Pierre. Celine.

All high born vampires with little political power. They spent their entire lifetime drowning in pleasure.

“They were drained and dumped outside the castle.” My father said, from behind me, his voice somber.

I traced a slow line along the edge of the coffin with my fingers, “I see that.”

He continued, his voice lowering like what he was about to say was a curse. “We suspect hunters.”

I arched a brow. "Hunters? I thought we wiped out that particular breed of pests years ago."

“They’re back,” he said grimly. “And they’re not just targeting us. The werewolves have suffered casualties as well.”

I exhaled slowly, already anticipating what he would say next.

“That is why you will be attending the meeting,” he declared. “The werewolves will be there, and we will discuss what must be done.”

Now, I finally understand the reason for the last elaborate banquet.

I turned, my gaze fixed on him. “You're working with the very people you hate? Surprising.”

His expression darkened. “That is not the point.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my ally,” he said curtly. "Whether I like it or not, the werewolves are being targeted as well. This is bigger than petty rivalries.”

I looked at him deeply for a few seconds before looking away. “Hm. I understand.”

“Lucian!”

"I know, I know." I rolled my shoulders, glancing back at the dead before turning toward the exit. "I’ll be there. Don’t forget to remind me.”

The night air was crisp as I left the castle, but my mind wasn’t on the cold. I didn’t like this. Hunters, dead vampires, and now a forced collaboration with werewolves? It was all too messy. And I didn’t like messy.

I had no intention of getting too entangled with the wolves. Even if I was particularly fond of the little wolf I have my eyes on.

I let out a breath as I pulled my phone out to send a message.

*

Armand's POV

Well, I'd been dumped.

The club was alive. The music pounding as laughter rang out, and bodies swayed to the beat. I moved through the crowd easily, heading straight for the bar.

The bartender barely looked up as I sat down. “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey. Neat.”

The glass hit the counter a moment later. I took a sip, letting the burn settle in my chest. This was the what… 200th rejection?

Centuries of giving romance a try and it always ended this way—taking a break that morphed into getting a wedding invitation from her. Maybe I should take a break from romance altogether.

Maybe I was just masochist. If not more than a century of going through the same thing over and over again should be enough warning. But no. I kept at it.

Halfway through my drink, a light tap landed on my shoulder. I turned, already half-annoyed, and found myself staring into a pair of big, bright brown eyes.

The girl looked quite familiar, staring up at me with rosy cheeks and her lips parted in a playful smile

“Do you want to kiss me?” she blurted out.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, wait—that’s not what I meant.” She paused, looking even more flustered, then grinned sheepishly. “I meant I want to kiss you.”

I was still trying to process that when she suddenly leaned in. Soft lips pressed against mine. Quick, warm, unexpected. It was brief, leaving me just as startled.

First of all, was this even a kiss?

She pulled back just as fast, beaming like she’d accomplished something. “Done!”

I just stared at her. What did she get done?

For some reason, I felt an impulse to teach her what a proper kiss looked like. So I did. I pulled her back, my hands cradling her face, and pressed my lips to hers. At first, she was startled, her eyes flying open in surprise. But then, something seemed to give way inside her.

Her lips softened, parting slightly, and I took advantage of the invitation. My tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers sensually. She tasted like alcohol and fruit, a heady sweetness.

Finally, I broke the kiss. Her eyes widened as she tried to chase the kiss. An amused smile curled my lips as I caressed her moist lips.

“Now that's a proper kiss,” I whispered.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked at me with amazement like I'd just done some magic. But then, her nose scrunched up as she sniffed lightly.

“Wait.” Her brows furrowed. “You smell like—”

She paused, then her eyes widened as she took a panicked step back. “You’re a vampire!”

She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth like she’d just kissed a serial killer. “Oh no.”

And then—she ran. I blinked, confused. …What?

Then it clicked. Selene, best friend of Lucian's little werewolf obsession. That’s why she looked familiar. I’d seen her at the banquet.

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. What the hell just happened?

Shaking my head, I wiped my mouth and took another sip of whiskey, watching her disappear into the crowd like I might chase after her. As if.

Then my phone buzzed.

I sighed, already knowing who it was from.

[Come here. Now.—Lucian]

With a sigh I downed the rest of my drink, set the glass down, and stood. Great way to keep my mind off being dumped.