In War, There Is Love

PROLOGUE

Notice: Keep in mind, this book starts one month after Julian’s and Alina’s wedding, and not after the 10-years-later Epilogue.

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“M-My Lord—”

Demetrius could hear the faerie’s heart pump inside his chest, the pulse on his neck visibly moving, taking his attention from whatever gibberish the ambassador of the faeries’ Court dared to tell him.

He didn’t know if he wanted to call that bravery or stupidity.

Probably both.

Probably the latter.

Demetrius chose to believe it was the latter. In the end, his word was law. And he had witnessed braver males tremble in front of him. This poor young faerie with round glasses and a book of laws in his hands was the most terrible choice Silas had ever made.

Yet he spoke to Demetrius the way no one had in centuries. It made him laugh out loud, a humorless laugh that, by the sight of it, made the faerie whose Demetrius didn’t remember the name of, shiver once more.

“Can you repeat that for me, ambassador?”

The nameless faerie gulped, but this time Demetrius decided to let his gaze burn in his eyes instead of his pulse. “I—I only meant—”

“Did I tell you to stutter?”

“I—I... I said the territories in the south belong to the faeries and we’ll never allow you to take them from us!”

There weren’t many things that surprised Demetrius anymore, not after five centuries of his life, and especially not a faerie, yet this one was an exception for sure.

Cold blood ran in his veins, but he said nothing.

“King Silas will come for your head if you keep hurting his people!”

Demetrius tried to keep his cool. He did.

It was not his best attempt, however, seeing as he finally stood up from his throne, walking towards the ambassador who seemed to finally realize what he had said. What he had done.

Too late for him, unfortunately.

No one spoke to the King of Death like this and lived to tell the tale.

“Will he, now?”

“My—My Lord, I did not mean it to sound like—“

“Like what? Like you were making a poor attempt of threatening me? Because it did sound like that, ambassador.” Demetrius closed the distance between them in a quiet, unrushed attempt. From outside, he looked perfectly calm and collected, but inside he could feel his anger burn, crave to be let out, his bloodthirsty instincts attempting to get over. “Were these your King’s words?”

“No.” He shook his head desperately, his eyes pleading for forgiveness he wasn’t going to earn by pleading and crying. Pathetic. They were all pathetic.

“Because it sounds stupid, Silas coming for my head when he knows well that wouldn’t serve him as a way to get rid of me.” It wouldn’t. Not that, not a knife in his heart, and not fire either. Nothing that could kill a normal vampire could even harm him. He was their King for a reason.

“My Lord, please forgive me. I beg of you, please—” Demetrius’ fingers curled around the ambassador’s pale neck, not forcefully at first, but the faerie trembled like a leaf in autumn nonetheless.

Sick satisfaction. That was exactly what King Demetrius felt as he felt his victim shaking and begging for his mercy, a mercy he wasn’t going to get today after the words he had dared speak.

Slowly he brought his face to the faerie’s neck, his fangs piercing the skin in slow torture. Then in one twist of his head, he teared the head of the ambassador from the shoulders, letting both separated pieces of him fall down in his feet.

Blood splatted the shiny floor of his throne room just as it covered his mouth and his chin. With one thumb he gathered it from his chin and tasted the coppery blood, a grin covering his face.

“Meh, it could have been worse,” he said to himself.

“Demetri?” The door opened without a knock, but it was one of the two people he wouldn’t kill for the blatant disrespect he constantly showed. “What did you bloody do, Demetri?” His brother asked as he took the view in, eyes widening in shock. “Are you insane? This could mean war!”

Demetrius shrugged once, unbothered, as he sat down on his throne and kept licking the fingers covered by faerie blood.

Faerie blood. Exactly what kept them alive. His brother was a fool if he thought war with faeries was evitable, and he was further away from a fool.

“Make sure the head of our dear faerie ambassador is sent as a gift to King Silas, Anthony.” It was an order, not a request. Demetrius didn’t have to shout the words for his younger brother to know it.

“The ambasaddor was the son of one of Silas’ most important lords. These will have consequences,” Anthony said, his voice worried.

“Silas is too much of a coward to declare war to me, Anthony. You and I both know that.”

Anthony sighed, his eyes still on the separated head of the fallen victim. Even for the Vampire Prince, it seemed the scene was too brutal. That was the exact reason Demetrius enjoyed it on a sickly level.

“He might be.” Anthony’s gaze finally met his. “But The Council of Peace? They will never let this go.”