The Wolf's Mate, Vampire's Bride

Damien Vandolff, the Vampire King, woke up to the sound of hushed footsteps entering his bedchamber. They were good. They were damn good if he hadn’t sensed them approaching from miles away. But getting to his room was no easy task; he’d make damn sure to choose his bedchamber wisely, the only place that he could be in any way vulnerable. But Damien was never vulnerable, not even in his sleep; especially not in his sleep. In order to get to his room, they had to jump up to the balcony through the palace gardens that sprawled for miles and had many hidden traps in it, or they had to get in through the underground tunnel which was connected to his room and made a loud noise when opened, even with the gentlest hands. They’d chosen to climb up instead. They were here. Damien jumped up in the air and landed on the foot of his bed just a bare second before the sword tore through the pillows and landed where he’d been sleeping. He stood perfectly still, listening to the sound of eight steady heartbeats synchronized as one. Yes, they were indeed damn good, they had accurate aim and they hadn’t even shown their faces yet. And despite him being powerful enough to hear their heartbeats, he didn’t have the power to see through their glamour; their ability to cloak themselves with the darkness around them. Damien looked at the darkest corners of his room, but he failed to notice any movements. Suddenly, all the candles in the room roared to blazing life, the fire burning hot and bright enough to blind his opponents temporarily. Damien turned to locate his assailants…and found nothing. Not a trace of someone having been in his room or even near it. But it was a sham because he could still hear heartbeats, all eight of them…yet there was nowhere for them to hide. The attack came from behind him, striking merely a fraction of a second before he moved out of the way. But Damien did not escape unscratched. He fisted his hands together as he felt his skin tear down his spine and his right calf. The injuries weren’t deep but they had been aimed to disable him, if they had been an inch deeper, then they might have succeeded. Damien spun out of the way of another attacker, avoiding another deadly blow. He moved his eyes around the room in search of any weapon, but they were all too far away for him to reach. And on top of that, he couldn’t use his flames on targets he couldn’t see. His castle had nearly been burned down to the ground about a year ago and he couldn’t risk starting another fire. His only hope of survival was to teleport out of his room. So he did exactly that. And three swords shredded him to an inch of his life. Damien fell to the ground in agony. His back was in shreds and a sword had gone straight through his torso to come out through his back, missing his heart by an eighth of an inch. And although his skin had started to heal, the rest of the eight assassins had just joined the three who had waited outside for him, knowing he would teleport. But as eleven of them raised their swords together to strike the final blow, Damien wasn’t ready to go down yet. So he teleported to the only place he knew was safe enough for him. The only place he hadn’t visited in the past year.