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Niall
The thunder didn’t end the night I was turned.
Closing my eyes, I recalled the memory as I sat on an armchair by three, narrow windows.
Fog had cloaked me in the ship's wreckage as the waves dragged half-eaten corpses into the depths. The broken mast creaked as a gust of wind circled over the beach we’d washed up on, the cold chilling deep into my bones.
The stench of seaweed and death clogged my senses, sending retches up my throat. My screams were useless, dry gasps by the time night fell. Hours before, we’d lost the bearings on our compass, unable to tell north from south. The sea stretched out into an endless horizon, no land in sight. We were utterly lost, and that’s when the voices started. Unintelligible whispers danced from the ocean herself, and when I peered over the side, I saw them. Wide, orb-like eyes watched us from just below the surface, the colors as dark as the depths from where they’d come.
I’d heard stories of the demons of the seas, but held no truth to them until they clawed their way up the bow of the ship, their talons tearing into the wood, breaking off pieces onto the water’s surface.
Only two of us out of a crew of twenty survived. John hadn’t made it through the day, and as I looked down at my gutted stomach, I knew it wasn’t long before I joined him.
Then a crimson-haired man robed in green swept through the mist, stretching out a pale hand as he reached me with immortal speed. I was convinced I was hallucinating from blood loss, until his fangs elongated, and he fed me his blood.
Before I could take my next breath, he sank his teeth into my throat, and I descended into darkness, reborn there. When I awoke, I was different, given an eternity of death and destruction. Back home, I had a girl waiting for me with the promise of a ring. I let her live and die believing I had gone down with the ship. It was a kindness because she would have never loved what I turned into. A slave to my urges, and eventually, with decades of living in darkness, I learned to enjoy it, to embrace every part of me I’d buried.
I both hated and loved Kalon for turning me that night. He’d robbed me of a mortal death, damning my soul to the underworld, but given me immortality and a life of experiences in exchange. Ultimately, I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about what awaited me if I never died.
“Niall.” Kalon’s words cut through the room, pulling me from my memory before I was ready to let it go. I didn’t turn, but I peeled back my eyelids to stare at the night. “We have much to discuss.”
I glanced at him, then lifted the glass of liquor I’d left on the table, wetting it on my lips. “If it’s more plans regarding Seraphina…”
“This isn’t about her!” he snapped, as the mere mention of her name exposed the anger he held deep inside. “I know you’ve always wanted to fit in here.”
“I do fine on my own,” I said, finishing the rest of the drink, breathing in the last of the spiced scent. “Adrian is back. He and I are restarting the Blood Brothers.”
Kalon stepped into my view, casting a shadow from the dim light of the lamps. “Is that wise after last time?”
“I will never let a woman get close enough to destroy anything I build again.”
“What if you don’t need a club to have status? What if,” he said with an arched, thin brow, “you were recognized as a legitimate heir to the throne?”
If I had still been drinking, I would have choked. I leaned forward, tilting my head to examine his expression. Did he know my plans? I hadn’t been subtle the night I foiled his own. Carefully, I sat back, inhaling slowly. “What do you mean?”
“The King of Asland wishes for his daughter to become a princess here. Unfortunately, that means she will need to marry a prince.”
My stomach knotted, a rare symptom of emotion when I’d become so accustomed to feeling so little. “I assume I’m the prince.”
“You will be.”
“I would have to marry Penelope?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the arms of the chair, rising to my feet. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It means the opposite of yes.”
“I am offering you a title.”
My fingers flexed, my teeth grinding. For me to inherit the throne, Sargon, Kalon, Seraphina, and Sebastian would all have to die. Even then, my rule would be scrutinized as not legitimate because of the way I would be crowned—as an adopted son. If I married Penelope, having Seraphina as my wife would never be an option. Only through her could I rule, with her by my side.
Sanmorte deserved a strong, decisive king. Not the shit show currently parading around this castle. The south of Sanmorte was hell, with rogue vampires living in ghost towns, stealing mortals without planning, bringing unwanted attention to our kingdom.
There was talk of Hamza’s followers making their way north, fueled by their rage against our princess for Hamza’s death. They wanted to remove her, and when they made it here, and found a way through these walls, Sargon would hesitate as he always did, and Kalon would let them tear her to pieces. Even as a true immortal, she was not immune to death. No one could survive being torn to shreds or decapitation.
