Shevamp - The Dark One
Mausoleum

Rowan followed Alena and Marcus inside the castle.

Anger briefly flared in her veins at the thought of being inside Victor’s home, but she brought her emotions firmly back under her control.

She never expected to see this building or get an invitation inside these hallowed doors, no matter the circumstances.

It was much grander and colder than she had imagined, yet Alena did not grow up in a home but in a mausoleum to Victor’s life.

She experienced a nervous edginess at being in this place with the man who inherited her father’s mantle, yet Alena unnerved her more.

Seeing so much of Victor in her surroundings, she wondered if his essence lingered in this place he once called home in some eerie way.

A chill ran down her spine, and she angrily ignored it.

Grown women didn’t allow their imaginations to run away with them.

“It would be better to leave this place behind; it isn’t safe.”

The practical suggestion made Marcus nod in agreement.

This once invincible and untouchable structure seemed like a trap, which must have been the intent behind the attack.

Did whatever hunted their people want them out in the open? It was possible, but they still stood more of a chance out there than in here.

The suspicion that nothing random happened since the Daywalkers first attacked the villages deepened Marcus’ sense of unease.

If his instincts were right, this was all part of an elaborate plan.

This ancient thing, which now seemed to stalk them, started this game the same day Alena first discovered the prophecy.

He would have dismissed this idea an hour ago, but this night taught him that they didn’t just face mindless beasts but a superior enemy.

“We cannot remain here,” Alena agreed with something aching to sadness.

This was her home, and abandoning it, wasn’t something she wanted to do but like her father before her, she was both a realist and a pragmatist.

There was no wisdom in staying where their adversary could find them.

Not that the darkness offered any security.

“Pack only what you can carry,” Marcus ordered, and she nodded.

It annoyed her that he said such an obvious thing to her, a warrior.

Did he even realize that it gave the impression that he saw her as a frivolous princess who would pack a chest full of dresses to fight a war?

His opinion of her didn’t seem high, and it angered her that he made such aspersions with Rowan present.

Alena excused herself, her mouth set and shoulders squared.

Rowan frowned, watching her sibling gracefully stalk away.

Her sister was so inhuman, much more vampire than any female of their species she had met before, and almost as intimidating as Marcus himself.

Alena belonged in this castle, yet there was nothing of her here. No trace of a woman’s hand was visible in the furnishings or the decor, especially not in this library, which also seemed to serve as the war room.

Marcus goaded Alena on purpose. Did he enjoy angering her, or didn’t he realize his barbs chafed at the raw wound Victor’s dismissal left in his daughter?

It cemented her suspicions that Alena didn’t know their father would choose Marcus, and she doubted if she would act with such control and grace under the same circumstances.

The man who sired them didn’t deny his daughter a pony or a dress.

He instilled in Alene the assumption that this was her birthright before casually handing it to another.

But for playing games with her through others, he never acknowledged Rowan and ignored her existence.

To her, their sire was an enemy, and she wanted nothing of his. While she expected nothing but pain from Victor, Alena did not foresee his betrayal and had no reason to feel the same way.

“We will speak on the road,” Marcus decided.

Being alone with him made her more acutely experience the strength of his presence, finding it both strange and unnerving.

Never having been this close to a vampire prince before, she found him daunting: sterner and more controlled than she would have imagined.

The weaker vampires who crossed her path often mistook her for easy prey and were pale copies of these people.

Compared to Marcus and Alena, they were weaklings and fools, except for one.

Rowan suppressed the memory, unable to stomach the idea of him under the present circumstances.

She didn’t admire them but excelled at reading people and gauging her enemies—a skill taught by life and encounters with those of unscrupulous nature.

Only an idiot would look at these two without seeing the noticeable differences between them and most of their kind.

Alena returned, no longer wearing apparel appropriate for a lady of her station. Instead, she chose a plain black linen blouse with a leather bodice, black pants, long boots, and gloves. Finishing her outfit with leather arm and leg guards. A dark-cloaked hood rested on her shoulders.

The clothes accentuated her beauty, adding flare and femininity to the garments.

While the women at her camp wore similar clothes, the attire looked plain on them.

Rowan glanced at her clothes and wondered what they saw when they looked at her? She liked her outfit, but she lacked Alena’s curves and admitted she was a whole hell of a lot less feminine than her sibling.

The garments were practical and not of the same quality as their attire; such luxuries were beyond her means.

Why did the comparison make her so self-conscious?

Especially when she never cared before?

“Will you get our horses?” Marcus requested, as if Alena were his servant, not his equal.

Her mouth set in a stern line, but she nodded in response, indicating that she would obey.

It cemented Rowan’s understanding that Marcus was Alena’s master in the complete sense of the word, and it somehow wasn’t right.

Why would Victor have done such a thing to his beloved daughter, and why did it anger her?

She tried to shrug the notion aside since it was no concern of hers, but failed to ignore it as well as she wanted.

“Do you require a weapon?” Alena offered when she noticed her lack of armament.

Only a fool would assume any weapon made by man had the power to help them now, but it would at least ease her mind, and she appreciated the gesture.

“No need, thank you, I left mine outside,” she declined, sensing Alena’s residual animosity, and despite her best intentions, she reacted to it.

Strangely, she usually had more grace in social situations but didn’t much care to attempt it in this place; the differences between them were too glaringly obvious.

“Suit yourself,” Alena shrugged, making her way outside, and with no alternative, Rowan followed.

Something urged her to play along and see where this would lead.

While waiting for them, she made her way to Striker and calmed him down.

Her gaze kept restlessly searching the darkness, uneasy with the silence and the fact that someone had left them alive and had a purpose for them.

She didn’t know if she would much like to find out what that was.

Marcus met Alena at the stable and realized he bore the blame for her annoyance.

His attitude had humiliated her in Rowan’s presence, and he almost sighed.

He knew her better than he would allow her to guess, but with all that transpired, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her growing insecurities or her simmering resentment.

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