Chapter 2 The king

The wolf howled again.

Alara's entire body went still.

The sound seemed to travel through the trees, low and mournful, before disappearing into the darkness.

She looked toward the forest.

Something moved between the trees.

She couldn't see what it was.

But she knew they were no longer alone.

The stranger beneath the oak seemed to sense it too.

His expression changed instantly.

The cold amusement disappeared from his face.

"Get up."

Alara looked at him.

"What?"

"Get up."

His voice was quieter this time, but somehow more frightening.

Alara slowly rose to her feet.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he pushed himself upright.

Alara immediately reached for his arm.

"You shouldn't move. You're badly wounded."

He looked down at her hand.

Then at her.

"Do you ever listen?"

"Not when people are bleeding to death."

For a moment, he simply stared at her.

Then, to her surprise, the corner of his mouth lifted.

Barely.

It wasn't quite a smile.

But it was the first sign that there was something human beneath his terrifying exterior.

"You're troublesome."

"So I've been told."

Another sound came from the trees.

Closer this time.

Alara's fingers tightened around his arm.

The stranger looked toward the darkness.

"We need to leave."

"Can you walk?"

"I can do more than walk."

Before Alara could ask what that meant, he stepped away from the tree.

He nearly stumbled.

Alara caught him.

His body was strangely cold beneath her fingers.

Not cool from the night air.

Cold.

Like ice.

She frowned.

"You have a fever."

"No."

"Then why are you freezing?"

His eyes flickered toward hers.

"Because I am not like you."

Alara didn't understand.

Before she could ask, a branch snapped somewhere behind them.

She turned.

Nothing.

"Who's there?"

The stranger moved so quickly that Alara barely saw him.

One moment he was standing beside her.

The next, he was in front of her.

His body shielded hers completely.

"Stay behind me."

Alara stared at his back.

Something about the way he'd said it made her obey.

The forest became silent again.

Then a low growl echoed through the trees.

Alara's heart hammered against her ribs.

A pair of pale eyes appeared in the darkness.

Then another.

And another.

Wolves.

Several of them.

They emerged slowly from between the trees, their bodies low to the ground.

Alara stepped backward.

The stranger didn't move.

The largest wolf stepped forward.

Its lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth.

Alara's breath caught.

"Run," the stranger said.

She looked at him.

"What?"

"Run."

"But you-"

"Alara."

She froze.

He had said her name.

She had never told him.

Her blood turned cold.

"How do you know my name?"

His expression remained unreadable.

"Run."

The wolves lunged.

Alara screamed.

But the stranger moved first.

He caught the largest wolf by the throat.

There was a blur of movement.

A terrible sound.

Then the animal was thrown several feet through the air.

Alara stood frozen.

The stranger turned toward the others.

And then Alara saw something she would remember for the rest of her life.

His eyes were no longer blue.

They were red.

Brilliant, unnatural red.

His teeth had changed too.

Two sharp fangs rested against his lower lip.

Alara couldn't breathe.

The stories.

The old stories her mother had told her when she was a child.

Stories about creatures that lived beyond the villages.

Creatures that walked among men.

Creatures that drank blood.

Vampires.

The stranger looked back at her.

He saw the realization in her eyes.

"Now," he said quietly, "you may be afraid."

Alara stumbled backward.

"No."

The word escaped her before she could stop it.

The stranger's expression hardened.

"You should go."

She couldn't move.

He was a vampire.

A real vampire.

And she had been touching him.

She had treated his wound.

She had-

Something crashed through the trees.

The vampire turned.

Three wolves rushed toward him at once.

He disappeared.

Alara gasped.

He was suddenly behind them.

One wolf was thrown against a tree.

Another fell before it could turn.

The third fled into the darkness.

The vampire stood motionless.

His chest rose and fell.

Then his eyes slowly returned to blue.

Alara stared at him.

He turned toward her.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

He took one step closer.

She stepped back.

He stopped.

Something flashed across his face.

Pain.

Or perhaps disappointment.

Alara couldn't tell.

"You should leave," he said.

This time, she listened.

She grabbed her basket from the ground and turned toward the path.

She took only three steps before dizziness swept over her.

She reached for a tree.

The world tilted.

The vampire caught her before she fell.

His arms wrapped around her waist.

Alara looked up.

Those blue eyes were staring down at her.

She could hear his heartbeat.

Slow.

Far too slow.

"You are pale," he murmured.

"I am fine."

"You are lying."

"I don't think you have the right to accuse me of lying."

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Even now, she had enough courage to argue with him.

He almost smiled again.

Then his gaze dropped.

There was blood on her hand.

The small cut from earlier had opened again.

A single crimson line ran down her finger.

The vampire went completely still.

Alara noticed.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer.

His eyes were fixed on the blood.

Something dark passed through his expression.

Hunger.

It was unmistakable.

His grip around her tightened for half a second before he released her.

"Go home."

His voice was different now.

Strained.

Alara stepped away.

"Are you all right?"

"Go."

She hesitated.

Then she nodded.

She turned and hurried toward the path.

She didn't see him watching her.

She didn't see the way his jaw tightened as he fought against an instinct he had spent centuries mastering.

And she didn't see him reach down and touch the place on his side where her blood had stopped his wound.

The injury was almost completely healed.

Impossible.

His gaze followed the path where she had disappeared.

Alara.

He had heard the name before.

But never attached to her.

Never attached to that face.

Never attached to that blood.

A distant bell began ringing from somewhere beyond the forest.

One.

Two.

Three times.

The vampire's expression hardened.

They were looking for him.

His guards.

His kingdom.

His people.

His hand closed into a fist.

He should return.

He should forget the girl.

He should never see her again.

Instead, he looked toward the path.

For the first time in centuries, the king of the vampires found himself wanting something he could not explain.

And somewhere far away, beneath the roof of a small cottage, Alara's mother suddenly dropped the cup she was holding.

It shattered across the floor.

She stood perfectly still.

Her face had gone white.

Because she had felt it.

Something had changed.

And deep inside her heart, she knew exactly what it meant.

They had found her daughter.