The Power Play

ALEXANDER

^CAIRO, 1923^

She looked up at me, her large doe-like eyes lined with dark kohl, clutching my arm. Her heart pounded against her chest, the flush on her dark skin growing more enticing by the second. I reached up to caress her face, yearning to remove her veil and see more than just her penetrating eyes.

I longed to sink my fangs into her soft skin. Yet, a part of me resisted. I wanted to see her smile, to spar with her witty remarks, to watch her in her playful moments, to see her dance as she had been.

My eyes traveled down her body. Her veil, draped over her face, fell down her front, but I could still make out her bodice, vibrant and adorned with tiny coins that chimed with her every movement. The soft fabric tied neatly at her hips, accentuating her slender waist and soft brown skin.

I yearned to trace my fingers down her body. “What are you?” she asked in a small voice, her eyes piercing mine as if trying to read my soul.

“I’m a prince, Aya,” I replied. “A prince of vampires.”

She blinked once, twice, then I felt her step back, her grip on my arm slackening, her gaze locked on mine as she tried to slip away.

I caught her arm before she could escape, pulling her back to me. She stumbled against me with a soft grunt, her eyes never leaving mine.

“It’s okay, Aya,” I reassured her, noticing her trembling. “I want you, Aya. I can give you the world. You will never be cold, never feel tired, you will eat and drink to your heart’s content, never age.”

I held her arm and pressed my forehead to hers. “Do not fear me, Aya.”

“You will kill me,” she whispered.

“Yes,” I admitted, forcing her to look at me. I let my eyes turn crimson, and I felt her body recoil. I held her tight, ignoring her wince.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded, still trying to pull away from me, despite my firm grip. “I have to live.”

“You dance for foreign men, Aya. You’ve lost the male figure in your life. You are falling into poverty,” I scoffed. “You don’t have a life worth living.”

I saw the hurt flash in her eyes, her brows furrowing in defiance. “I have to take care of my sisters,” she whispered.

“I will give you the world, Aya. I will give you strength, power, immortality,” I pulled her against me, whispering in her ear. “And you will be mine.”

She shuddered, unable to pull away from me. I could hear her heart pounding. “No, please, I don’t want that,” she shook her head vehemently. The coins on her clothes jingled as she struggled against me.

I didn’t like seeing her struggle, the fear growing in her eyes. I preferred her cheeky, laughing, beating me at chess. I pursed my lips.

“Just stay still, Aya. This will all be over soon,” I promised her.

“No! I will not succumb to a monster. I would rather die than become a creature of the devil!” She pulled away from me suddenly, violently ripping her arm from my grasp.

It took a split second, but I watched the determination in her eyes as she spun from me and launched herself off the side of the building.

I barely had enough time to grasp her around the waist and pull her back to me, back to safety. She gasped in surprise, being plastered against me again.

“Now, you will be mine forever,” I growled, lowering my lips to brush them against her throat. I pushed her veil out of the way, holding my little bird in an iron grip so she wouldn’t try to fly away again.

Her sweet scent overwhelmed my senses. I could feel the beating of her heart through her soft, warm skin. I moaned in desire.

I let my fangs pierce her skin just lightly and lapped at the first drops of her blood. Sweet, spicy, tangy, rich. I groaned and held her tightly against me, sucking the blood from her throat freely.

Her body was pressed against mine, initially resisting, then surrendering. Her small hands wrapped around me, pulling me closer. Her breaths were short and quick, her heart pounding.

As she let out a soft moan and tilted her neck to give me better access, the sensation shot straight to my groin. I had to use every ounce of self-control to stop myself from taking her right there on the rooftop.

Her body started to slump in my arms. I pulled back, looking into her wide brown eyes. For the first time, I noticed the golden specks in them, shining as brightly as her jewelry under the moonlight.

Her skin turned a ghostly white, her lips parting in a silent plea. I saw the blood seeping from her wound. Her heart was barely beating, and with a dreadful final thump, I realized—I had forgotten to give her my blood.

I had never turned anyone before. I looked down at her, horrified. I hadn’t intended to kill her. I wanted to turn her, to keep her by my side, forever.

I bit into my wrist fiercely, tearing at my flesh and pouring my blood into her mouth. She didn’t move, her eyes wide open, accusing.

I pressed against her heart, trying to mimic its previous rhythm, and continued to pour my blood into her. Nothing happened.

Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow. The weight of her lifeless body grew heavier in my arms. I whispered her name, touched her cooling skin, begged her to accept my blood, to come back.

Suddenly, her body convulsed violently. Her fingers twitched. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as her back arched, her veins aflame with the fire of transformation.

Her heartbeat returned—erratic, thunderous, then slowing into an unnatural, measured rhythm. She screamed.

The sound was unlike anything I had ever heard, raw and guttural, filled with agony as her body underwent the irreversible change. I held her tightly as she writhed, unable to alleviate her suffering.

This was the price of immortality—pain beyond human comprehension. Relief washed over me as I forced more blood into her mouth, despite her gagging.

I pulled her close again, pressed my lips to her wound, and drained the last of her human blood. Her heart stopped. Her breath stopped. She went still.

I exhaled heavily. Very few humans survived the transformation. And it had butchered the experience.

Frustration gnawed at me as I finally lifted the veil from her face. She was breathtaking. Beautiful. And she looked so young. Too young.

Her soft, rounded chin, the natural pout of her lips, her sharp cheekbones, her straight nose, her warm, light-brown skin. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen.

I gently picked her up and jumped from the rooftop, landing in the middle of the deserted street. A few humans glanced in my direction, their eyes flicking toward the lifeless dancer in my arms—but none moved to help her.

Humans were a despicable race.

I carried her down into the underground chambers I had rented for the month. But as I descended, the sharp scent of another vampire hit me. Not just any vampire.

King Lucius.

I clenched my teeth as I pushed open the door.

My grandfather stood before me, draped in his signature red robes, his crimson eyes ablaze with anger. A heavy gold crown sat atop his head, encrusted with jewels—he always did enjoy his regalia, especially while traveling.

“Grandfather,” I greeted him flatly as I entered, placing Aya’s still body on the bed.

He didn’t even glance at her before slamming the door shut behind me.

“Do you think this is all a joke?” he spat. “I have had my men searching for you for over a year!”

“I told Mother I wanted time for myself.”

“You cannot run away from school,” he snarled.

“I have plenty of time to go back. I needed to get away. To not be a Night for once,” I retorted.

He let out a dry laugh.

“Not be a Night? Boy, you are a prince. You have responsibilities you cannot shirk. You will be king someday. This behavior—this running away—it’s over. You’ve had your fun. Now, you will come home with me. You will finish your schooling. And in fifty years, when you turn four hundred, you may come and go as you please. But not before!” he barked.

I met his gaze without flinching, my jaw tightening. “No.”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of his umbrella. “I wasn’t asking,” he said stiffly. “I was giving you an order.”

“I’m not under your command anymore,” I retorted, feeling my patience thinning.

His eyes, as red as blood, narrowed. “You’ll understand your role, kid,” he hissed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Your dad faced the same challenges, and so did I. The crown is a heavy load. But you’re going to bear it. It’s our family’s legacy.”

I scoffed. “That’s crap,” I shot back. “Elizabeth was the rightful heir. The throne was meant for her. The Mcnoxnoctis family can take it.”

“Watch your mouth!” he roared, his fist slamming into the wall behind him. The stone shattered and cracked under the impact. “You foolish boy! You will end this nonsense now! You’re coming home with me. I’ve had enough of your juvenile—”

His rant was abruptly cut off by a piercing scream that filled the room. Aya woke, crying out in pain. Her body jerked violently on the bed, her limbs twitching. She gasped, writhed, moaned. The smell of her suffering hung heavy in the air, raw and potent.

I stared at her, stunned.

My grandfather shifted his gaze from her to me, his blood-red eyes wide with terror. “Did you turn her?” he whispered.

“I did,” I replied, standing my ground.

“You foolish boy!” he hissed, appearing next to me in a flash and hitting me hard on the back of my head.

“Hey!” I protested, stepping back, but he paid me no mind, his face contorted with rage.

“You’re not even four hundred years old!” he fumed. “You don’t know how to safely turn a human! Oh, ancestors help me!” He ran a hand through his silver hair, pacing angrily. His eyes kept darting back to Aya as she writhed in pain, her body shaking. He waved a dismissive hand at her. “You don’t understand what you’ve done.”

“It was my decision,” I retorted sharply.

“That’s nonsense!” he snapped. “Do you comprehend the responsibility you’ve assumed? A newborn vampire is a creature of pure instinct. She will crave only blood, she will be stronger than any human, faster than even you, and unable to control herself! It will take decades to train her, to teach her restraint, to teach her how to exist among us without wreaking havoc like a mindless monster! You’ve condemned her to an eternity of insatiable hunger, and you’re barely more than a child yourself!”

“I can manage,” I said, though a hint of doubt crept into my heart.

“Manage?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Tell me, kid, do you even know how to teach her to feed without killing? To control the madness when it takes over? To endure the nights when she pleads for death because the thirst is unbearable? Do you know what it’s like to hear the cries of a fledgling who doesn’t comprehend what’s happened to them?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or did you just turn her because you couldn’t stand to kill her? Because you wanted to keep her? Wanted a fuck and decided to make her immortal for it?”

Anger surged through me. “I can train her. She will listen to me. She will be mine.”

His expression darkened. “You’ve brought another immortal into this world. A bloodthirsty, lethal immortal. And you can barely control your own thirst.”

“I can control my thirst!” I roared.

“But not your dick!”

Aya screamed, her body bending in an unnatural way. Then, silence.

I turned to her, my breath still heavy with anger. Her body was motionless, her chest barely moving.

“You’re a fool,” my grandfather sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “And you’ll rue this day.” He moved toward the door, his crimson eyes gleaming. “Kill her. You have two nights to come home. If you don’t, I’ll make you regret it.”