Chapter 1: CHAPTER ONE:

A young man limped away from his home at midnight. He hated everyone and never wished to see them again. And if they happened to meet in the future, he promised to kill them. All his life, he lived in a society that hated him. He never understood the meaning of love because it is hard to fathom what you’ve never experienced. What prompted the rest to treat him badly was the fact that he was different.

Fergus was a dark mixed-race man who had heterochromia. His right eye was blue while the other was purely black. He always wore an eye patch covering his blue eye. Everything about him stood out; his skin, his eyes, his hair… It was rare to find someone with black irises; most people had a darker shade of brown. In the community he lived in, everyone had pale skin with either hazel or green eyes.

He grabbed his torso as blood dripped out – making his shirt soggy. An argument broke out at home and his brother ended up stabbing him. The only way he could escape was to run away. What made it worse was that no one reacted; they watched how it all ensued. His parents, people he thought would care, did nothing.

As he neared the river – the one that ran in between the forest which was a walking distance from their house – he fell to his knees and groaned in pain. He was losing a lot of blood and if nothing happened sooner, he would be no more. “I swear I’ll still kill you. Even if it means coming back as a ghost,” his voice was strained and dry. He tried dragging himself to the river with the little strength he was left with. He believed that if he took a certain herb, he would heal within thirty minutes; he was weak for a werewolf and the cut was deep.

The man was about to hold onto a rock next to the river bank when he slipped and hit his head on another. His vision became blurry and after five seconds, he passed out.

Alaric, the king of the southern vampire kingdom – miles away from the wolves’ pack, had decided to go on a hunting spree. He wanted to test new lands not caring whether he violated the rules. He hated the wolves so did the wolves hate him.

He was sitting on a tree right next to the river; knowing that the wolves resided around. He had to be cautious not to spite them. He was tired of wars; not that he couldn’t win against them, it was no use to fighting.

Suddenly, his stomach rumbled when the smell of blood hit him. He imagined the sweet metallic taste kissing his taste buds as he drained his prey. He hurriedly moved from the tree and tried locating the smell. When the smell became stronger, he spotted someone lying by the river bank. A man who was not only tanned but also beautiful. He was used to seeing pale skin and the last time he had met someone so dark, was thirty years ago.

Alaric walked to where Fergus lied half dead and placed his thumb on his neck trying to figure out if the man was still alive. He had a sigh of relief, ‘I don’t feast on corpses.’ He then removed Fergus’ hand that weakly held onto the stab wound. As he went down to have his fill, he had a change of mind. “I sure feel hungry but why does it feel like I want this tweep alive?” He shook his head in confusion and bent down to kiss Fergus’ wound. Since Alaric was of royal blood he had an ability that most of his kind lacked. His saliva healed deeper wounds. The vampire held his hands into fists as the smell of blood intoxicated his system. “Why am I doing this?” He asked himself and brought his eyes upon the face of the almost dead man.

Fergus was beautiful. He had a roman nose that stood above beautiful plump lips that were slightly parted. He had his brunette locs held in a bun. His eyebrows were neatly trimmed and well-kept and his dark and long.

Without having a second thought, Alaric bent down, licked Fergus’ wound, and ensured his tongue went deep into his wounds. After five minutes, the wound began sealing up. The vampire sat on his calves and sighed. “Your blood…” He was cut off when the sound of voices and footsteps startled him. “Holy fuck!” He cussed.

“Fergus! Fergus!” The voices grew louder and he had to do something before he was caught. His home was miles away and his jeep was packed two kilometers away. Alaric had to use his speed to escape. What about the man? A voice asked him. “You are coming with me, tweep.” He hissed carrying the heavy man in his arms and rushed off.

It took him thirty minutes to get to his car and by the time he was there, he felt like dying. “Man, what do you eat!” He sighed in frustration. After breathing in the cold morning air, he turned to look at Fergus. ‘Interesting.’ He squinted his eyes; completely bewitched by the man’s beauty. While tying Fergus’ hands and legs (afraid of what would happen if freely left), he loved how their skins contrasted each other. While he adorned pale skin, Fergus’ skin was olive.

The drive to his palace was a three-hour drive. He was able to stand the morning sun before 8:30 am so he had to drive as fast as he could. Initially, he had planned to sleep at a resort but now he held someone captive and it would be hard for the humans to let him in. Luckily, he had control over his craving for blood. It was safe to say he never caused havoc whenever he visited the city.

At 6:45 am, he drove into his garage and packed his jeep. His guards stood next to the car and waited for their master to step out – who jumped out exhaustively.

Alaric hated barking orders, so he often communicated through the mind link. The king’s mind linked his guards while checking Fergus’ condition in his backseat; the guy was sound asleep but slightly unconscious. ‘Prepare him the room next to mine.’ He then dragged Fergus out and one of the guards carried him; following closely behind his master. King Alaric usually used the backdoor when he was bringing in something suspicious.

His guard, Magnus, placed Alaric’s captive on the cold white porcelain bathtub. ‘Thank you,’ the king said then shooed the guard away. Alaric walked to Fergus and stared at him under the dim orange light. The man looked lean but spotted muscles. A vein had popped out from his neck and sadly, Alaric could feel how his heart beat faster. He was tempted to drink but something was barring him.

After a while he ran the cold water faucet, ensuring it was the coldest temperature. As the water soaked his captive’s clothes, Fergus slightly groaned but didn’t wake up.

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