It had been centuries since anything had truly shaken the Vampire King.
Leon Sinclair stood at the edge of his towering palace balcony, midnight winds sweeping his long black coat behind him like a royal banner. Beneath the moonlight, his kingdom sprawled across the dark hills like a shadowed dream. And yet, he felt... hollow. Until recently.
He hadn't fed in days. He hadn't slept in nights. Every time his eyes closed, he saw her. A girl with soft, glowing skin and eyes full of quiet storms. A heartbeat that echoed in his chest like a song only he could hear.
She didn't know him. He had never touched her. But somehow—somehow—she lived in his dreams.
The hunger in his veins pulsed with urgency, but not for blood. For her.
---
Down the grand hall, the council chamber buzzed with politics. Vampires of ancient bloodlines sat stiffly at the obsidian table, each more self-important than the last.
Leon entered the chamber like a shadow sliding through flame. The moment he stepped in, the room dimmed, magic bending in quiet reverence—or fear.
"Your Majesty," Councilor Varrick greeted, standing with a tight bow. "We've received another request from the witches. They still plead for protection. The attacks on their border lands have intensified."
"They are not of our kind," Lord Myros hissed, tapping his cane against the marble floor. "Why should we waste our soldiers defending creatures who drink tea and talk to trees?"
"The witches may not drink blood," Varrick countered sharply, "but they are still powerful. And unprotected. Without a queen, they're vulnerable. The darklings will wipe them out if we don't—"
Leon raised one gloved hand, and the room silenced.
"They fear us," he said slowly, eyes glowing faintly gold. "They call us darklings in hushed voices. Yet they come begging at our gates. How interesting."
"They know only you can keep the true dark at bay," Councilor Astrid whispered.
"And what of the wolves?" Leon asked.
Snorts filled the air.
"Their king grows weaker by the day," Varrick said. "Old. Greedy. Petty. All eyes are on his heir, Prince Neil. But the old fool refuses to step down."
"They play politics while the world crumbles," Leon muttered. "Typical."
The council shifted nervously. The tension thickened.
Then a younger vampire—Lord Renald, barely over a century old—scoffed under his breath.
"Maybe if His Majesty stopped chasing ghosts in his dreams, we'd have clearer priorities."
Silence fell like thunder.
In one blink, Leon vanished from his throne.
The next, he stood in front of Renald, towering over him, his aura flooding the chamber like a rising tide.
Renald's breath caught. His knees buckled.
Leon didn't touch him. He didn't have to.
Renald's body lifted from the floor, suspended mid-air, eyes wide with terror as the very blood in his veins rebelled. His scream was silent. His fear, deafening.
"I do not answer to infants," Leon whispered, voice like velvet over steel. "Breathe my name in mockery again, and you will forget what breathing feels like."
With a flick of his wrist, Renald dropped to the floor, gasping and trembling.
No one else spoke.
The rest of the meeting continued under a haze of fear and obedience.
---
Later, in the privacy of his study, the doors shut tight with a whispered enchantment, Leon sat across from the only two vampires he could tolerate in his proximity.
Damon stood tall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. A soldier's mind with a protector's heart.
Cassie—or Cassandra when she was mad—flopped onto a plush velvet seat, kicking her legs like a bored child.
"You're scaring the council again," she teased.
"Let them be scared," Leon said darkly.
"Gods, you've been extra broody lately. You'd think your throne was made of nails and taxes."
Leon didn't respond.
Damon watched him closely. "You haven't fed. You haven't rested."
"And you're smiling," Cassie added, eyes narrowed. "Creepy little corners-of-your-mouth smiles."
Leon raised a brow.
She leaned forward. "So... who's the girl?"
Silence.
Leon's jaw tightened.
"She's real," he said finally. "Not a dream. Not a figment. She's real... and she's mine."
Damon stilled.
Cassie blinked, then let out a low whistle. "Oh damn. The king's in love. The apocalypse is officially upon us."
Leon gave her a look, but said nothing more.
Just then, a knock echoed.
One of the guards entered, eyes lowered.
"Sire," he said carefully. "Two guests have arrived. Human girls. Requested a tour. One of them... carries a strange aura. Ancient. Faint, but... unsettling."
Time stopped.
Leon rose slowly.
His power flared, trembling the very stone beneath them.
Damon and Cassie stood with him, their own senses stretching outward.
They felt it too.
The shift. The song.
"She's here," Leon whispered, eyes blazing.
"My queen."
---