Page 50 of Sold to the Dark Vampire Prince

“What if it were Ava who’d taken up with a vampire boy she’d met on her way home from school, a vampire she claimed to be madly in love with?” Evan shook her head. “Would you approve, or would you keep her as far away from him as possible?”

“Ava is a child.”

“Me, then.”

“You would have staked him through the heart before he could have even attempted to compose a single love sonnet on your behalf.”

“Rather fortunate, I should think, given that nothing rhymes with Evangeline.” Her expression sobered. “Alexander isn’t good for you, Dani. I don’t know if it’s the emotional connection of the feeding screwing with your hormones, but he’s doing a number on you, and for what? In a month, he’ll be engaged to that harpy.”

“This was always to get Ava’s meds,” Dani whispered. “Don’t think I would have chosen any of this if we’d had any other options.”

“But you do want him. Not the prince,” she clarified. “You want Zander.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, because I can’t have either of them. Prince Alexander will be forced to announce his engagement any day now, and Zander doesn’t exist.” She looked down. “But you’re right. I’ve always felt something for him, long before I knew he was Alex. It’s always felt outside of my control. I can’t explain it. We just have… chemistry, I guess.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“It didn’t go that far.”

Evan’s phone buzzed. “I have to go. Just… be careful, okay? There’s only one way this ends, and that’s with you getting hurt.”

No sooner had Alexander resolidified on the balcony outside his wing of the palace, than a black hood was yanked down over his head. A fist slammed into his gut a second later, doubling him over.

He fought his assailants, trying to focus his thoughts enough to scatter himself into smoke and reform across town at Serafina’s safe house. But his heart was beating too fast. Adrenaline pounded through his system as he was forced to the ground. His hands were wrenched behind his back, leaving him unable to calm his mind.

As they locked silver cuffs around his wrists, Alex tried to curl in on himself, to try to protect his head, futile as it was with his arms pinned behind his back.

The blows began raining down. He lost track of the minutes. There was nothing but the anticipation of the next kick or punch, and his captors’ laughter over him every time he flinched.

Footsteps approached.

“Enough,” Judas Visconti said. “Get him up.”

Alexander said nothing as the hood was yanked off. He tried to draw in a breath and saw a sea of black spots. At least two of his ribs were cracked. Henri was nowhere to be found. He could only assume his father’s men had gotten to him, too.

“Where were you?”

Alex thought quickly. His mother’s bruised face came back to him in a rush. In the memory, she dabbed ointment on a cut on his lip as he sat at the end of her bed. He’d been very small at the time. He could recall there had been tears in Charlotte Visconti’s eyes, even though her bruises had been so much worse than his, and he’d reached up to brush the tears from her cheek.

“Why does he hit you?” he’d whispered.

She’d looked so sad in that moment that he’d hated himself for asking, had started to cry again. Quickly, she pulled him into her lap.

“One day, your sister will be queen,” she whispered. “And together, you will heal our broken world. Until then, when your father comes to ask what we’ve been talking about, remember this: the best lies weave in tiny bits of truth.”

Alex blinked, his thoughts returning to the present. The king knew he’d gone to see Dani, or at least suspected. He had one chance to save her from meeting the same fate that now awaited him.

“I went to see Sera.” The balcony fell silent. The answer had caught them off guard. Before his father could regroup, he continued, “This is all happening so quickly. I never consented to any of it. Not to the royal ball, and not to getting engaged. I went to ask her advice about stepping aside so Dante can take my place.”

His father strode forward, and slapped him across the face. Stars blurred his vision. Judas gripped his arm. His dark magic slithered through Alex’s veins like ice water, sucking the life force from him. He gasped, falling to his knees as his legs went watery.

On either side of him, the two guards holding him collapsed. Alex was fairly sure they’d stopped breathing. Gods, he hoped Henri was still alive. This was all his fucking fault. The remaining guards shifted uncomfortably in place.

At last, the king released him, seeming wholly unconcerned about the pile of corpses on the terrace.

“Get up.”

Shaking, Alex staggered to his feet.