Chapter 7 Meet The Kings

The guard remained on his knees in the mud. He kept his eyes fixed on the dirt.

Vasilis let out a breath that sounded like a curse. He released the tent flap and turned back to me. His golden eyes locked onto my face. The amusement was gone. The dangerous, primal king had returned.

"Stay here," Vasilis commanded. He crossed the large tent in two strides and reached for the massive broadsword leaning against the center post. He strapped the weapon across his back. The leather harness groaned under the weight.

I stood by the cot. My ribs burned with every heartbeat. My bare feet felt numb against the cold earth.

"You expect me to hide in a tent while three armies surround the camp?" I asked.

"I expect you to survive," he snapped. He stalked toward me, his immense frame blocking the firelight. "They want the woman from the sky. They want the prophecy. If they see you, they will tear this entire camp apart to take you from me."

"Take me from you?" I repeated. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "I am not a piece of stolen property."

He reached out. His thick fingers wrapped around my upper arm. His touch was firm, branding my skin through the chilled air. "You are in Aetherion. Titles from your world mean nothing. To them, you are a weapon. A prize. Stay in this tent, or I will tie you to that cot myself."

I jerked my arm out of his grip. The sudden movement sent a spike of agony through my chest, but I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the gasp.

"Do not touch me," I warned.

I turned away from him and walked to the cot. I grabbed the thickest pelt from the messy pile. It was a heavy wolf fur, dyed a deep charcoal gray. I threw it over my shoulders, using it to cover the torn, bloody silk of my haute couture dress. I pulled the edges together at my chest, creating a makeshift, regal cloak.

I turned back to the Alpha.

"If three kings came all this way to see me," I said, lifting my chin, "it is rude to keep them waiting."

Vasilis stared at me. The muscle in his jaw flexed. He looked at my bare feet, my bruised skin, the dirt smudged across my cheekbones.

"You are insane," he murmured.

"I am a professional," I corrected. "I know how to handle an audience."

I walked past him. I pushed the heavy canvas flap aside and stepped out into the night.

The stench of smoke and unwashed bodies filled my lungs. The camp was in pure chaos. Warriors ran in every direction. The sound of sharpening steel echoed over the frantic shouts. Massive, wolf-like beasts paced the surrounding, their fangs bared, their throats vibrating with low, vicious growls.

Vasilis stepped out behind me. He did not try to stop me again. He moved to my side, his presence a towering wall of muscle and heat.

"Walk behind me," he ordered.

I ignored him. I matched his long strides, forcing my aching legs to keep the pace. I refused to cower in his shadow. The warriors we passed stopped and stared. They lowered their weapons. Their glowing amber eyes tracked my movements.

We reached the edge of the encampment.

The surrounding was marked by a crude wall of sharpened wooden stakes. A massive set of timber gates stood open.

Beyond the gates, the valley stretched out under the dead light of the twin moons. And waiting in the mud were the other three armies.

They stood in perfect, terrifying formation. They outnumbered the beast clan ten to one.

At the front of the combined forces stood three men.

They did not wear armor made of bone and leather. They radiated a different kind of power. An ancient, suffocating power.

My breath caught in my throat.

The man on the left lounged against the saddle of a massive, shadowed horse. He wore dark, luxurious fabrics that seemed to drink the moonlight. Layered silver chains rested against his open collar. Infernal tattoos crawled up his neck, disappearing beneath his messy, crimson-streaked black hair. He caught my gaze and flashed a dangerous, blinding grin. His eyes were the color of a violent violet ember.

The man on the right stood with spine-breaking posture. He wore a crisp, tailored military coat in stark white and black. His platinum hair brushed his shoulders. His face possessed a terrifying, perfect symmetry. He looked like a marble statue brought to life for the sole purpose of war. His eyes were a liquid, empty silver.

And in the center stood the Vampire King.

He wore an elegant black suit tailored to lethal perfection, complete with a long, embroidered coat. Black leather gloves covered his hands. His skin was the color of fresh snowfall. His jawline was a razor edge. But his eyes were a nightmare. They were the color of fresh, spilled blood.

They all looked at me.