Chapter 1

Ellie

“Jumpy eyes, isn't that what you're called?” King Vanchure asked as he dipped a painted brush into the palette. He knew the name my Park called me because of my eye disorder. That was what I could ponder on later, after I had gotten my request granted. It took me a whole lot to get to him; I was clothed in my skin with a magical liquid that masked scents that I stole from Eamonn. If Eamonn finds out I was here, in the dwellings of our enemies, because I wanted to save my twin sister, he would forget we were ever mates and deal with me according to the law. One plan: get in, retrieve my sister, and get out.

If it would be as easy as I had plotted in my head.

“I have come to seek that which you hold dear to me, my twin sister. Where is she?” My chest heaved from the long trudge in the cool woodlands of Black Park. I was shocked at the way I spoke. I spoke bravely like I wasn't in the presence of a powerful vampire. I laughed at my own stupidity. I swallowed down the lump that built up in my throat as I spoke. It's so hard to stand in his presence. The room reeked of fresh blood and King Vanchure's dominance.

I can barely keep up with my jelly legs even as he has his back to me in an unbothered and unfazed manner. Oh, yes. He owned this place, and I was the intruder. The intruder who might become a prey with no escape even as I stood drenched at the doorway. The message of my sister in captivity was carried in a small note to me by a raven. Just like the old times.

Ravens don't belong to the Soldiers; they're raised by the Royalties. The vampires. Vampires used that bird to send life-threatening messages to the heart of the unfortunate victims. I read books about the blood suckers so I knew. And the life-threatening message came from the nonchalant-looking king sitting shirtless at one end of the dim room. I remember the heaviness I felt in my chest as I read the note line by line. I watched out for when the sun was down and ventured into the woodlands of Black Park on my own in the heavy rainstorm without the notice of anyone in the park house; sharp thorns pierced into my skin, but I cared not. My healing ability saw me through. Anything to get my sister out of Vanchure's hands.

“I'm not just the vampire king of tales, Ellie. I'm a talented artist.” Van said with every stroke he made on the canvas with his paintbrush. “So you can either be the one posing on the couch, behind the canvas or be the one whose blood I will use in replacement for paints.”

I suppressed the sob that wanted an outlet. “You... you've killed my sister, haven't you?” Hot tears rolled down my cheeks the moment I said the last words. His statement told me the obvious. I heard he does not only drink the blood of his victims, he goes as far as using the blood to paint on his canvas victoriously.

“I spared your sister’s life the moment I saw your willingness to show up. I heard stories of one omega soldier who was hopelessly fearless, and for some reason, I craved to see her myself. I'm very much pleased to meet you, Ellie.” He said without looking at me. The way he said my name, like he was irritated by the mere thought of ‘Ellie.’ It meant light. Vampire's weakness. “Make no move, Edgar. I'm trying to get the plumpness of your rosy lips.” He made a glance at his male consort, and then back on the canvas. From where I stood, I could see his artistic work. It was a duplicate half-done painting of his consort on his canvas. Such a talented devil.

It was his consort he gave more attention to, not me. Not that I ever wished to be his target of main focus, but how else do I expect him to listen to me if all I did was stand there like a chunk of wet wood?

If he said he spared Isla, then she's somewhere waiting for a miraculous rescue. I need to free my sister.

I needed to free Isla, even if it's the last thing I do to prove to her I cared about her.

“What is it you want from us?” I said breathlessly. What I have asked will either get me killed or save me. Vanchure paused his strokes on the canvas and set the brush at the base of the canvas. His back straightened.

“Edgar, leave us. Now.” He said to the man who lay on the white plush couch in front of him.

“Yes, Master.” Was the reply of his consort as he slowly stood up, making slow steps out of the room, I took note of a scornful glance he gave him on his way out

Now it was just the two of us. Ellie and King Vanchure. Light and darkness. One was clearly dominating, and it was definitely not light.

I wasn't feeling alright with the silence that hovered above us after Edgar left, but who was I to speak first? I wasn't sure of the vampire king's current mood.

Has what I asked pissed him off?

He turned slowly on the donkey chair, sitting so he could face me, finally giving me an audience. This was someone I read about in books; he was a mystery to me, having to know him all the years of my existence. He swept a loose strand of his wavy white hair to the back of his ear. I forced myself to look into his challenging eyes. I doubt if I've ever felt this captivated by manliness in my life, not even the first time I saw Eamonn. This vampire king was more than what the books described him as. Books gave a poor description of his face and body; his eyes were the lightest gray, matching perfectly with his white hair.

My inward admiration was cut short by the sound of him clearing his throat. “It's not what I want from you both; it's what I want from you, Ellie. I needed her to get to you. It was the only way I could drag you out of those choking arms of your so-called mate, Eamonn.” His gray eyes held mine, but where mine held were his blood-red lips, which looked like he had just had fed, but once he was done with his speech, I tore my eyes from his lips to focus well on his eyes.

“W... what? Why…" My brain denied me any logical words; my lips shook in the utterance of nothing. Like my eyes gave out my unasked questions, he replied. “Your sister is back in your park, unharmed. It is you that I want. Need, rather.”

Fear sets in my stomach on hearing his words; there's nothing the vampire king could possibly need from me. The blood that runs through my vein is the weakest there is. Not alpha blood, not beta blood, but an omega's. Isla had beta blood. And if he had ever conquered any werewolf, it was probably the Alpha wolves he'd kill and drink of their blood. From what I heard, he was impermeable to wolves' blood. It doesn't make him a hybrid, but it adds to his might and strength

He folded his arms, watching me intently; he sucked his tooth, shaking his head. “Too bad Eamonn left his damsel to journey down to Throx Coven on her own; isn't he a bad lover?” He asked in a mocking tone.

Before I could manage to speak, Vanchure appeared in front of me. “Ellie…” he said breathily, “... call me Van; that's what my friends call me.” He said softly, reaching to touch my face, “I am not your friend.” I breathed, once I uttered that statement, he sneered. “That's fine; we can start slow. I don't rush, you know that.” He said as he inched closer to me, his warm breath fanned my face. In a place too cold for his art room, I felt so hot. Heat erupts from my insides; with his face this close to mine, I could barely count the amount of overly grown lashes that roofed his alluring eyes.

What are his plans with me?

And even if there were, what would he probably need me for? I allowed his hands to run down my shoulders.

I stood unable to breathe as his eyes swept down my body; my silk white dress had turned see-through due to the rain I had come from. His eyes lingered on my cleavage and then on my neck.

Oh, no. This is not a good time to die. My heart hammered in my ribcage. He does not only see my fear; I know he hears it as well. Loud and clear.

His lips parted; his canines grew into sharp fangs. He glides his tongue on the sharp end of his fangs. He would have looked so hot if his intent wasn't to drive those fangs of his into my skin. “You're much more useful than you think. I like the rhythm of your heartbeat. I need that blood it pumps.”