Vampire's Destined Bride

II.

THE KING WHO WAITED.

The kingdom feared many things ; war, death, magic. But above all else, they feared Lucien Draven, — the immortal king who sat upon a throne carved from black obsidian, his silver eyes fixed upon the stained-glass window overlooking the capital below. Moonlight filtered through the colored glass, casting crimson and sapphire shadows across the throne room.

He paid them little attention. Just as he paid little attention to the council currently arguing before him.

"...the eastern nobles continue to challenge the trade agreements."

"The border territory requires additional soldiers."

"The treasury has requested—"

"Enough."

Silence immediately swallowed the room. Every noble lowered their head, every voice disappeared. Lucien had not raised his voice, he had not moved. Yet a single word from him was enough. Such was the authority of the Vampire King.

For over three centuries, Lucien Draven had ruled the Kingdom of Nocturne.

Three centuries of victories.

Three centuries of bloodshed.

Three centuries of fear.

He had defeated rival vampire clans before reaching his first century of rule, crushed rebellions before they could begin, war ended in a single night, stories of his strength had become legends, stories of his cruelty had become warnings whispered to misbehaving children. To the kingdom, Lucien was an untouchable monarch.

A perfect ruler.

An immortal king.

A monster.

None of them knew the truth. None of them knew that the man seated upon the throne had truly stopped living centuries ago.

Because the day Aurelia died... A part of him had died with her.

His gaze drifted toward the silver ring hanging from a chain around his neck. A simple ring, worthless to everyone except him.

The only thing he had left of her, Aurelia. The woman who had once brought light into his endless night, the woman he promised to marry, the woman buried beneath cold stone centuries ago. The woman he had failed to save.

His jaw tightened. Even after all this time, the wound remained. Immortality had dulled many things.

Not that pain.

Never that pain.

"My king?" Victor Thorn's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lucien glanced toward the council leader. Victor stood among the gathered nobles, calm as ever, too calm. Lucien had never trusted him. Not completely.

"Continue," Lucien said.

Victor nodded. "The preparations for next month's masquerade are nearly complete."

Lucien barely listened. The masquerade ; another meaningless event, another gathering of nobles seeking influence and favor, another reminder of centuries spent enduring a life he no longer desired.

Then it happened. A sudden pressure slammed into his chest. Lucien froze, the world seemed to stop. Something ancient stirred within him, something he had believed lost forever. His fingers tightened around the crystal goblet resting on the arm of his throne.

The glass shattered instantly, the sharp sound echoed throughout the chamber. Silence followed, every noble stared.

Several vampires looked visibly alarmed. The Vampire King did not lose control. Ever. Yet for the first time in centuries, Lucien's composure cracked.

A presence.

A soul.

Familiar.

Impossible.

His silver eyes widened.

No. It couldn't be, she's gone. I watched her die. I buried her myself.

He thought. Yet the bond connecting their souls was unmistakable.

The same warmth.

The same light.

The same existence he had searched for throughout endless centuries.

Alive.

His dead heart seemed to beat once. Then again, for the first time in hundreds of years. Hope, raw and terrifying.

Victor cautiously stepped forward. "Your Majesty?"

Lucien slowly rose from his throne. The pressure radiating from him intensified instantly. Several younger vampires lowered their heads. One noble nearly stumbled backward.

Nobody dared speak.

Nobody dared move.

Lucien's gaze shifted toward the northern horizon beyond the castle walls, toward House Ashford. Though he did not yet know her name, he did not yet know where she was. He could feel her. The bond was awakening.

After centuries of searching.

After centuries of mourning.

After centuries of waiting.

She had returned.

A small smile appeared on his face, the first genuine smile anyone in the room had seen in generations. And somehow, that smile frightened the nobles more than his anger ever had.

Lucien closed his eyes, the connection grew stronger. Clearer. Undeniable.

A whisper escaped his lips, soft enough that only he could hear it.

"I found you."

The words carried centuries of longing.

Centuries of grief.

Centuries of devotion.

When Lucien opened his eyes again, they glowed silver beneath the moonlight.

This time...

..... no one would take her away from him.