Vampire King's Pet

Chapter One: Don't Leave Me

Two years earlier…

Avery’s POV

The air changed before I even saw it.

That was the first thing I noticed—before sight, before thought. The way the wind itself felt wrong as I crossed the final tree line leading back to our coven grounds. It carried the scent of something metallic and thick, curling into my lungs like it didn’t belong in a place that had always smelled of pine, herbs, and morning smoke from hearth fires.

Smoke. And blood.

The second I stepped out from the forest edge, my world stopped trying to make sense.

Everything was gone.

Not damaged. Not attacked in pieces.

Erased.

Where our homes had once stood—wooden cottages carved with protective runes, barns filled with supplies for winter, healing gardens that stretched in neat, glowing rows—there was only ash. Charred foundations marked where life had been. Blackened skeletons of structures leaned into each other like they had died mid-collapse.

Even the trees weren’t spared. Great trunks that had once been wrapped in warding charms now stood split open and burning at their cores, sap hissing like pain given sound.

I had only been gone ninety minutes. Ninety minutes.

The memory of that morning hit me like a cruel echo—laughter in the square, voices overlapping as people prepared for the Blood Moon ceremony. My father sent me out personally, trusting me with errands and trusting me to come back to something waiting.

Something alive.

Now the only thing waiting was death.

My boots hit broken stone and ash as I stepped forward slowly, almost like the ground might explain itself if I moved carefully enough.

It didn’t.

Instead, it gave way beneath me in places still hot enough to melt snow. Steam rose in thin, ghostly spirals from the remains of what had once been walkways. The cold Alaska air fought against the heat of destruction, turning the entire landscape into something unreal—like winter and fire had collided and neither had won.

One hundred and forty-six people lived here. One hundred and forty-six voices I could still remember.

I did the math without meaning to. And then I stopped thinking in numbers altogether.

I guess it’s just one now.

The thought didn’t feel like mine. It felt like something breaking loose inside my chest.

My throat tightened as I stepped further into the ruin. Every few steps, something shifted underfoot—charred wood, collapsed beams, fragments of life I couldn’t let myself look at too long.

But I did look. And I regretted it every time.

A broken length of wall collapsed somewhere behind me with a sharp crack, sending a puff of ash into the air.

I turned too fast, heart slamming. For a moment, hope surged so violently it made me dizzy. Then I saw it.

Just a piece of a house. A house I recognized. My cousin’s. The realization didn’t arrive gently. It arrived all at once, like my mind refused to let me prepare for it.

Baby Samantha. Three years old. Always running too fast, always laughing, always hiding behind my skirts during gatherings when she got shy.

My knees nearly gave out.

My hands curled tightly at my sides as tears blurred my vision so fast I couldn’t stop them. My chest hurt in a way that felt physical, like something inside me had been scooped out and left hollow.

She didn’t even have a chance to understand what was happening. That was the part my mind kept circling. No chance.

Around me, bodies lay where they had fallen—some half-covered in ash, others burned beyond recognition. I forced myself to step around them carefully, each movement deliberate, as if disturbing them further would be a kind of disrespect I couldn’t afford.

They deserved… something. Even if I couldn’t give them anything yet. A proper send-off. A ritual. A prayer to the gods beyond the moon.

But all I had was silence. And the sound of my own breathing breaking apart.

“Andrew?” My voice cracked immediately. It sounded empty in this place. Too alive. Too human. Desperation leaked into it before I could control it. “Andrew!”

My twin and my anchor. The other half of everything I was.

Only the fire answered me—low, constant crackling as the ruins continued to collapse in on themselves.

My bottom lip trembled uncontrollably.

The covenant crest was gone. The totems—centuries old, carved with protection spells passed down through generations—had been reduced to soot. Even the magical markers that should have protected the perimeter were dead.

Someone hadn’t just attacked us. They had erased us on purpose. My hand moved instinctively to my chest. The talisman. The only thing that had survived.

Cream-colored metal, warm even now. By daylight, it shaped itself into a dove—soft, neutral, watching. By night, it shifted into a raven—sharp, defensive, ancient.

Neutrality. That was our nature. Not aligned with vampires or werewolves. Not bound by their wars. And yet…we were still burned anyway.

My fingers tightened around it until it hurt. Now it’s just me. The thought should have broken me completely.

Then—A sound.

Coughing.

My head snapped up instantly, every nerve in my body screaming at once. It wasn’t distant. Not imagination. Not grief playing tricks.

It was real.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned toward the sound, scanning the ruins. It came again—wet and strained and alive.

I ran.

The only standing structure left was our magical armory. The wards around it flickered faintly, damaged but not fully destroyed. Somehow, it had held. Barely.

I bolted around the side, boots slipping slightly on scorched stone, until I reached the back wall—

And froze. “Daniel!”

The name tore out of me before I could think. He was there.

Collapsed against the broken edge of the structure, half-shielded by what was left of the warding field. His body was trembling violently, one hand pressed to his abdomen. Blood stained his fingers and soaked into the snow beneath him, turning it a dark, unnatural color.

I dropped immediately to my knees beside him. Didn’t care about the heat still radiating from the ground. Didn’t care about anything except him breathing.

“What happened here?” My voice shook so badly I barely recognized it. “Everyone is dead—Daniel, what happened?”

His head tilted slightly toward me. His hazel eyes found mine, unfocused but still aware enough to recognize me. “Werewolves…” he gasped.

Blood spilled from his lips as he spoke, and I felt something inside me go cold. “They came fast,” he managed. “Too fast…”

His breath hitched painfully. “I’m not going to make it, Avery.”

“No.” The word came out instantly, sharp and broken. “No—don’t you dare say that. You promised me you wouldn’t leave me.”

My hands hovered over him instinctively, magic rising without permission. Warm light flickered at my palms before I even realized I was doing it.

Healing. Trying and fighting. But something was wrong. The magic didn’t take properly. It slipped.

Daniel’s hand caught mine gently, stopping me. His grip was weak, but intentional. “Stop,” he murmured. “You’re hurting yourself.”

That snapped something in me. I looked down at my hands, realizing too late that the spell was feeding too much of me into him. Like I was burning myself out trying to reverse something already decided.

I pulled back immediately, shaking. "No… I can fix it. I can—”

“You can’t,” he said softly. And the calm in his voice hurt more than the blood.

His eyes started to close. Panic surged through me so violently I almost couldn’t think. “Don’t,” I whispered, voice breaking. I leaned forward, pulling him closer without thinking. “Please don’t leave me too…”

A faint, broken smile touched his lips. Even now. Even like this.

“I contacted my people,” he whispered. “When the werewolves showed up…” My breath caught. “The King is coming.”

That didn’t comfort me. It made everything worse.

Because I knew enough about politics, about kingdoms, and about power shifts to understand what that meant.

Daniel’s people weren’t small. They weren’t merciful either. “He loves war,” Daniel added weakly, as if reading my fear.

Of course he did. Because of course the world would respond to destruction with more destruction.

“Danny…” My voice broke completely. “Stay with me. Just until they get here. Please.”

His hand tightened faintly against my back. “I love you, Avery.” The words didn’t feel like goodbye. Which somehow made it worse.

“Don’t forget…”

His hand slipped.

And fell.

Silence hit like impact.

“No—no, no, no—” My voice shattered as I pulled him closer, shaking him gently like movement alone could undo what had already happened. “Daniel, wake up. Please—”

But his body didn’t answer. Warmth still lingered in him. That was the cruelest part. Not gone yet. But already unreachable.

I pressed my forehead to his, sobbing openly now, the kind of grief that takes your breath away and doesn’t give it back. “I love you,” I whispered. “I will love you until the day I die."

Then I lowered myself onto the scorched ground beside him, letting my head rest against his leg as though if I stayed close enough, reality might reverse itself out of pity.

It didn’t.

The wind shifted through the ruins again. And then—a sound cut through the burning silence.

Low and deep.

A growl.