Page 123 of Hunt Me

“You lie,” he mumbled, voice cracking as his hand fisted around the necklace.

“The only lie being told is the lie that you tell yourself. That pendant belongs to our father, Reynard Alesi,” Gregorio spoke with conviction.

Luka lowered the necklace and ignored how his stomach reacted as if he had consumed spoiled milk.

“My King,” Ezra whispered. “What say you?”

“I-I need a moment,” Luka whispered, leaving abruptly with Gregorio’s laughter following behind him. His lips tilted into a faint smirk when a slap resonated against the stone walls, and Matilda demanded that the bastard be silent.

Luka secluded himself in his study and positioned himself before the portrait of his sire. The medallion in the portrait was taunting him. He recalled his father guarding the medallion with his life, even demanding that he be buried with it in the afterlife. Luka had asked for it once, and his father solemnly expressed that it would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands. And yet, he gave it away. He gave it away to the bastard he despised in theory. The hybrid bastards he swore were abominations and decreed would be put to death merely for existing.

“It was probably your mother who felt that way about hybrids,” Matilda said from the doorway. “She was jealous and embarrassed. You know how vampiric supremacy works—you all are better than the rest of us.”

“That’s not true,” he whispered.

“I know that. You know that. But that has been the standard for centuries, at least in your species eyes. Your mother hated the thought that your father loved a werewolf more than her, so she insisted that a new law be in place.”

“He didn’t love her,” Luka said, lying to himself.

“His prized possession says otherwise.”

“You believe it,” he muttered in disbelief.

“I can see the resemblance. It’s slight, but it’s there.”

Luka pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. The tension in his shoulders didn’t ease as he had hoped.

“He wants to challenge you for your throne as the ancient texts allow.”

Luka snorted. “Challenge me? It would be a suicide mission.”

“Aye. I told him there would be no such challenge. He tried to argue, but he wasn’t in a position to. The ancient texts are barbaric and useless, and there is a reason why the creators are no longer living. Night Falls needs new blood and leadership that isn’t constrained to dead men’s ideology. Our plan worked.”

He glanced at his queen over his shoulder.

“What plan?”

She stepped further into the office, closing the door silently behind her.

“It was an impossible feat. Seduce the vampire king, have his heir, and take over the kingdom,” she said, slowly approaching him.

Luka narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You kid.”

“And the garlic rolls were a bonus,” she mentioned, lips sliding into a smirk.

“You kid,” he repeated.

She shrugged softly. “Perhaps.”

Matilda rolled her eyes when she felt the tension and confusion roll off of him.

“I jest, my King. Ease yourself. What we have cannot be contrived. The gods have seen to it.”

Luka offered his hand. She accepted it gracefully and sighed in his embrace as his hands caressed her swollen belly.

“His name is Draven,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his chest. “I have entrusted him to capable hands.”

“Whose capable hands?”