Silver Eyes

The night the vampires came, the moon refused to shine. That should have been my first warning. Aigupta never goes completely dark. Even on moonless nights, the canopy above our territory glows with starlight, with the old magic that lives in the roots of the trees. But tonight, the forest was a pit. Cold. Silent. The kind of silent that comes before wolves howl. I should have stayed inside the Pack House. "You! Blood-sucking creature!" My voice tore through the trees before I could stop it. The vampire in front of me didn't flinch. He was crouched over a fallen warrior from my border patrol, his hands covered in blood that wasn't his own. My blood. My warrior's blood. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and tasted it, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. Red. Completely, unnaturally red. Rage is a hot thing. It starts in your chest and floods your veins until you can't hear anything else. My vision sharpened, my canines lengthened. I looked down at my left arm. Four claw marks, deep enough to see muscle. The bastard had gotten me when I wasn't looking. I was supposed to be the best fighter of my generation. The Alpha's daughter. The future Luna. "Argh! You filthy leech!" I lunged. He smiled. That's what I remember most. Not his speed, not his strength. The way he smiled like I was entertaining. "So this is the Princess of Aigupta," he said, his voice accented, old. Older than he looked. "They said you were beautiful. They didn't say your eyes..." "Don't talk about my eyes." My eyes flashed. I felt it happen - that cold burn behind my irises that always happened when I lost control. The silver. Every werewolf in Aigupta has gold, amber, or ruby eyes when they shift. I have silver. No one else. Not my mother, the Luna, not my father, the Alpha King. Just me. The pack elders call it a blessing from the Moon Goddess. The pups call me a ghost. The warriors... the warriors avoid my stare. The vampire's smile widened. "Mesmerizing. No wonder the Alpha hides you." I growled, low in my throat, and shifted. Shifting is not beautiful. Books written by humans make it sound graceful. It is not. It is bone cracking, skin tearing, muscle re-knitting itself into something lethal. In two seconds, where an eighteen-year-old girl stood, a white wolf stood, larger than any male in my father's pack. I attacked. I was fast. I have always been fast. I went for his throat, the killing bite my father taught me when I was six years old. He was faster. He sidestepped like I was moving through water and I crashed into the damp grass, rolling, snarling. When I looked up, he was still smirking. "So beautiful," he whispered. "Yet weak." Weak. The word detonated inside my skull. I am Veronica Althea. Daughter of Alpha Magnus and Luna Selene. I have never lost a spar. I have killed rogues twice my size. I have protected this border since I was fifteen. No vampire calls me weak. I used the speed my mother said was a gift from the Goddess herself. I became a white blur and this time, when I sank my teeth into his neck, I felt satisfaction as his scream tore the night apart. I tasted ash and old blood. I held on until his struggling stopped, until his body dissolved under my jaws into fine, grey ash that coated my tongue. I shifted back, panting, naked, covered in sweat and blood and ash. My white hair stuck to my back. "Serves you right," I whispered to the pile of ash. That's when the pain hit. It wasn't a claw. It wasn't a bite. It was cold fire spreading from my back, from right between my shoulder blades, paralyzing every nerve. I gasped and fell forward onto my hands. My whole body went numb, then burned. I tried to howl for help. Nothing came out. "Got ya." A second voice. From behind. I tried to turn my head. My neck wouldn't move. Out of the corner of my silver eyes, I saw him. Another vampire. Taller. He held a dagger that was humming with a sick, purple light. Witch-enchanted. That's why I couldn't heal. That's why I couldn't move. Werewolves heal fast. We are almost impossible to kill unless you take the heart or the head. But enchanted silver and witchcraft... that keeps us down. The forest was still silent. Where was my patrol? Where were the howls? I could hear fighting far off, near the river. They had split us up. This was planned. "Another inch into your heart," the vampire said, playing with the dagger, walking in a slow circle around my paralyzed body. "Then I'll be the man who killed the Alpha's daughter. Imagine the reward King Sandro will give me." King Sandro. Even among humans, that name is whispered. King of all Vampires. The monster who ended the last Great War by personally executing twelve Alpha Kings in one night. He hasn't been seen outside Brixhes in fifty years. "I am going to carve my name into you first," the vampire hissed, kneeling beside me. "So they know who did it. So your precious Moon Goddess knows you died screaming." He pressed the tip of the glowing dagger to my shoulder. The pain was so white-hot I finally found my voice and screamed. Not a wolf howl. A human scream. A girl's scream. I have never felt so helpless in my life. My body was for my mate. Every werewolf knows their body, their scent, their soul belongs to the one the Moon Goddess chooses for them. I had waited eighteen years. I had rejected every male who looked at me because I knew he was out there. And I was going to die here, on the cold forest floor, being branded like cattle by a vampire grunt. Tears burned my silver eyes. "Kill me," I choked out, my pride shattering. "Just... just kill me, damn you." He laughed. "Hush, Princess. We haven't even started." He raised the dagger again, aiming for my heart this time. I closed my eyes. I prayed. Not to my father. Not to my mother. To her. *Moon Goddess, if you are there... if you ever blessed me at all... help me. Please.* The weight above me vanished. I didn't hear a fight. I didn't hear footsteps. I heard a single, soft sound. *Snap.* Like someone snapping their fingers. I forced my eyes open, my whole body trembling. The vampire who was about to kill me was gone. In his place, a pile of ash, still falling through the air. Finer than the last one. As if he had been burned from the inside out. And standing over that ash... a silhouette. Tall. Broad shoulders. He wore black, a long coat that moved even though there was no wind. The moon was still hidden, so I couldn't see his face. Only his eyes. Red. But not the dull, hungry red of the others. This red was like molten rubies. Like blood lit on fire. A vampire. Another one. "Why..." I tried to speak, but my tongue was numb from the dagger's poison. "Why did you... kill your own..." He didn't answer. He moved. One second he was three feet away, the next he was kneeling beside me. So close I could smell him. And Goddess help me, he smelled incredible. Not like blood. Like cold rain on stone, like old books, like winter air and power. My wolf, who had been whimpering in pain inside my mind, suddenly went completely still, then started purring. That had never happened before. He reached out. I flinched, expecting claws. Instead, his hand - pale, elegant, with long fingers - stopped just above my back where the dagger still glowed. "He used a cursed blade," he said. His voice... his voice was low, calm, and absolutely terrifying. The kind of voice that never needs to shout to be obeyed. A King's voice. He pulled the dagger out in one swift motion. I screamed again as fresh fire shot through my spine. I was going to pass out. I could feel the darkness creeping in. "No," he commanded softly. "Look at me. Stay awake." I had no choice. My eyes flew to his. He cut his own palm with the same cursed dagger. Black blood welled up - no, not black. Dark, dark crimson, so rich it almost glowed. "Werewolves don't drink blood," he said, as if he was telling himself more than me. "But this will heal you." He pressed his bleeding palm to my lips. I should have bitten him. I should have spat it out. Werewolf and vampire blood is poison to each other. Everyone knows that. But my body moved on its own. My lips parted. I drank. Power exploded in my mouth. It wasn't blood. It was lightning, it was a storm, it was a thousand years of winters and wars and absolute, unshakeable authority. It was the taste of a throne built on bones. Royal blood. This was royal blood. My back arched off the ground. The paralysis broke. The wound closed. The cold fire was replaced by burning heat that shot straight to my heart, to my soul, and then... My eyes flared silver. Brighter than ever before. So bright they lit up the entire dark grove. I saw his face for the first time. He was beautiful. No. Beautiful is too small a word for what he was. He was carved, like a statue of some ancient, cruel god. Sharp jaw, full lips, black hair that fell to his shoulders. And those red eyes, staring down at my silver ones with an expression I couldn't read. Shock. Recognition. Hunger. And something else. Something raw and possessive that made my breath stop. He is the Vampire King. The thought came to me as clearly as if someone had whispered it in my ear. King Sandro. My mate. The word echoed through every bone in my body. MATE. MATE. MATE. My wolf was howling it inside my head, joyful, frantic. His nostrils flared, as if he could smell my thoughts. His eyes dropped to my lips, still stained with his blood. To my naked body, now completely healed, glowing faintly silver in the dark. For a second, his cold, ruthless mask slipped. I saw pure, naked want. Not just bloodlust. Something deeper. He leaned down. I met him halfway. I have never been kissed before. I saved myself. I thought it would be soft, sweet. This was not sweet. This was devouring. He kissed me like a starving man, like he had been waiting centuries. I tasted his blood again on his lips and I moaned into his mouth, my hands fisting in his black coat, pulling him closer. My silver eyes shut in pure delight. I forgot the war. I forgot my parents. I forgot that his kind and my kind have hated each other for a thousand years. For one perfect moment, there was only us. Then a howl ripped through the night. Close. My mother's howl. "Veronica!" My mother's voice, panicked, using our pack link. Sandro tore his mouth from mine. His breathing was ragged. His red eyes were wide, staring at me like I was a miracle and a catastrophe at the same time. He heard it too. They were coming. My pack. If they found me here, naked, kissing the Vampire King... it would start a war that would drown both our kingdoms in blood. "Veronica!" Closer now. I could hear paws breaking branches. I looked at Sandro, my mate, my enemy, my everything, my eyes begging him not to go. He looked at me one last time, his gaze lingering mine. And then he was gone. No smoke. No sound. Just empty air where a King had been.