Dark Prince: A Vampire Paranormal Romance (Blueblood Vampires Book 1)

by Michelle Hercules

  Karl doesn’t even look at me before he peels off the curb, leaving me in front of Ember Emporium. At this hour, the bar is closed, and the street is deserted. Dragons are known to only start the day past noon, and it’s not even nine in the morning yet.

  Despite the Closed sign on the window, I try the door. It’s unlocked. I push it open slowly, dreading what I’m going to find inside. I’ve never been crazy enough to venture into supe territory before. We coexist somewhat in peace, but there’s no denying we’re prey to most of them.

  Salem is the only city in the world where the secret of supernatural existence is out. If we had gone to New York City today, my bandmates wouldn’t remember about supernaturals at all. There’s a spell around town that prevents anyone from blabbering once they leave the city’s borders. Well, almost everyone.

  Rikkon and I seem to be the only humans unaffected by the spell. Maybe we’re immune, thanks to whatever drug our mother took when she was pregnant with us. Rikkon takes after her when it comes to his many addictions.

  A strong combination of smells fills my nose once I’m inside. Stale beer and sweat don’t make the most welcoming scent.

  “Hello?” I call out. “I’m here for my brother.”

  My voice echoes in the empty, dim room. Shivers begin to multiply, and my heart is beating now at a staccato, like a clock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

  A door at the end of the room opens with a bang, and three large males make their grand entrance. They’re built like mountains, tall and wide. Their arms are as thick as tree trunks, which stretch the fabric of their suit jackets. It’s hard to tell which one of the trio is Larsson. They all exude power.

  “Where’s my brother?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

  “Your brother is detained,” the tall blond in the middle replies.

  With his sharp facial features that would cut like a knife and the cold stare of someone without a soul, it’s no surprise that my heart feels as if it had been frozen.

  “I want to see him,” I say.

  “You’re in no position to demand anything from me. Your brother was caught dealing crack in my domain. He’s lucky my associates didn’t kill him on the spot.”

  So, that’s Larsson.

  “You said that if I wanted to see him alive, I’d have to come here,” I retort angrily, forgetting for a moment who I’m dealing with.

  “Yes. I have a proposition for you. I’ll let your brother go free if you do something for me.”

  Vises of dread wrap around my chest, squeezing me like a boa constrictor.

  “Do what?” I ask in a small voice.

  “I want you to steal something for me.” Larsson stares me down with his intense yellow eyes.

  This can’t be good.

  “Steal what and most importantly from whom?”

  “There’s a precious necklace, an antique that I covet. It’s worn by a vampire, and he never takes it off.”

  Vampire. The word I dread the most.

  Immediately, my pulse skyrockets. It’s thundering in my ears now. Getting air in my lungs becomes harder.

  Oblivious to my growing panic, Larsson continues, “His name is Lucca Della Morte.”

  Della Morte. I know that last name. Fuck. It couldn’t have been just any random vampire.

  “You want me to steal from a Blueblood?” I squeak.

  “My sources tell me he just woke up from hibernation. Knowing how those pompous bloodsuckers operate, he’ll be celebrating his awakening in style tonight.”

  I don’t know anything about hibernation, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’ll be starving. I can’t be anywhere near him.

  “I can’t do it,” I say.

  Larsson raises an eyebrow. “So, was your brother lying when he swore you would do anything for him?”

  Shuddering, I close my eyes for a second. “No, he wasn’t lying.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not going to be that hard. You’re a pretty little thing, exactly what Lucca likes. All you have to do is make sure he drinks this.” Larsson sets a small glass bottle on the table in front of him. “And then he’ll be putty in your hands.”

  With baby steps, I approach the table. My hands are shaking when I grab the vial. “What’s this?”

  “Vampire’s bane.”

  My eyebrows shoot to the heavens. “I thought vampire’s bane was a myth.”

  A slow, wicked smile blossoms on the dragon’s face. “Oh, no, dear. It’s real but rare and expensive.” His eyes narrow dangerously. “So, don’t waste it.”

  I curl my fingers tighter around the bottle. “Where am I going to find him?”

  “He’ll be at Havoc tonight.”

  “That’s an upscale club. I’ll never get in.”

  Plus, it caters exclusively to vampires. I’m not sure I’ll be able to be surrounded by them without panicking.

  “Wear a tight black dress and high heels. I’ll make sure your name is on the list.”

  I don’t have any more excuses. It seems I’m really doing this.

  I couldn’t foresee there would come a day when I told my brother I’d had enough. But if I survive tonight, I never want to see his face again.

  3

  Lucca

  Hunger. That’s the first sense that returns after a period of hibernation. Too bad the rest of my body doesn’t want to get on with the program as quickly. While I lie in bed, waiting to recover the feeling of my arms and legs, I suffer the hollow pain that makes me want to tear everything in my path. Bloodlust is real and dangerous as fuck.

  My fangs are fully extended, my mouth is parched, and yet none of the fuckers around me are willing to give me a break. I hear them talk, words and sentences that don’t mean a thing to me. Manu, my younger sister, is arguing with my best friends, Ronan and Saxon, about something that happened in King’s Landing, wherever that place is.

  With an effort, I manage to peel my eyes open. It takes a couple of seconds for my vision to clear from the fogginess. Despite the dimness in the room, it feels like I’m staring straight at the sun—something vampires rarely do since we’re not daywalkers. My eyes begin to water, but I refuse to shut them again.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake.” Ronan approaches the bed.

  “Shit. About time,” Manu replies, joining him. “How are you feeling, brother?”

  My nostrils flare when I can’t get my tongue to cooperate.

  “Can’t talk yet, huh?” Saxon chuckles. “Well, not that that’s any different than your normal self.”

  I glare at him, and finally, I’m able to croak some words out. “Fuck… you.”

  He laughs. “Now we’re talking.”

  Manu reaches for the button on the side of the bed, raising the mattress to a sitting position. “Are you hungry?”

  My response is a growl.

  With a shake of her head, she removes the lid of a warm blood pouch and sticks it in my mouth. The hunger only subsides to a minor discomfort after I drink at least twenty of these. Only drinking straight from the source will abate it completely.

  I toss the last empty bag to the tray on my nightstand. “How long did it take to wake me up this time?”

  Manu trades a meaningful glance with Ronan, which is telling enough.

  “The High Witch came five days ago,” Saxon answers.

  “Fuck.” I glance at the far wall, seeing nothing.

  “We’re going to break the curse this time around, Lucca. I know we will.” Manu squeezes my hand, but I pull away, not wanting her touch or comfort.

  Her painfully white face morphs into an expression of ache, and her golden eyes shine with emotion, but those changes only last a few seconds before the cold mask goes back in place.

  “Did my uncle come to see me?” I ask.

  “Yeah, King Raphael has been here every day,” Ronan replies.

  “What did he say?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Saxon interjects. “Have you met your uncle?
He suffers from the same syndrome you do—brooding in silence.”

  I’d flip him off if I had the will to do it. I’ve lived with this damn curse for almost five hundred years. Since the Nightingales left this world, taking their magic with them, all vampires—except first-generation—must hibernate to restore their powers. If I hadn’t been cursed by the Nightingale queen, I’d need to sleep twenty-five years every hundred years. The last time I went in hibernation, I slept for fifty years.

  “How long was I gone this time?” I ask.

  “Ninety-five.” Manu doesn’t look at me.

  “What the fuck! Why the hell did you let me sleep for so long?”

  She whips her face in my direction to glower. “We didn’t let you. You simply didn’t wake up. We’ve been trying to bring you back for the past half-century!”

  Shit. No wonder she looked so distraught when talking about my curse. If it took me that long to wake up this time around, it’s possible I won’t rise again the next time I hibernate.

  “Hell to the fucking no. We’re not going to dwell in self-pity and doom right now. Lucca is back, and we need to celebrate,” Saxon cuts in with over-the-top enthusiasm. He hasn’t changed much in the last century. He has always been ever the optimist.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Havoc. It’s a new club owned by Derek Blackwater. You remember him, right?”

  I groan. “Yeah, I remember him.”

  “How is your head?” Ronan asks.

  “Overloaded with new information. It will take me a while to process everything. But damn, a lot has changed.”

  “Oh, yeah. Lots.” Saxon laughs. “You’ve gotta appreciate the ladies’ new fashion.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down, earning a disgusted sigh from Manu.

  “You’re a pig, Sax.”

  “What about Tatiana?” I ask, and immediately, the mirth disappears from my friend’s face.

  “Still a major bitch,” Saxon retorts.

  I run a hand through my long hair. It’s past my shoulders now.

  “It would have been nice to wake up and find out my uncle had finally offed with her head.”

  “Not likely to happen anytime soon,” Ronan grumbles. “King Raphael and that snake reached an agreement.”

  “What kind of an agreement?” My eyes turn to slits.

  “A truce.”

  “You can’t be serious. After everything she’s done?”

  “I hate her with every fiber of my being, Luc. But our race is weakening. If we don’t convince the Nightingales to return and restore our full powers, we’ll be nothing but legends,” he says.

  “What makes you think they’ll return?”

  “It was the war that made them leave in the first place.” Saxon shrugs. “Seems like a logical approach.”

  “There’s nothing logical about any of this.” I throw my legs to the side of the bed and stand. Fury is coursing through my veins, and I can’t stay confined to my room any longer. “What does this fucking truce mean to us?”

  I catch the grimace in Ronan’s face. “The institutes have been integrated.”

  My stomach twists in knots. This is bad. “And the Red Guard?”

  When the war between the two Blueblood royal houses started back in the thirteenth century, my uncle created a program to train non-Blueblood vampires—regulars—to become warriors. We needed the numbers. He called them the Red Guard. Bluebloods are stronger by nature, but regulars can be trained to fight as well as we do.

  “It’s not called the Red Guard anymore. Regulars are being trained to become Keepers, which is nothing more than glorified watchdogs.” Ronan crosses his arms, scrunching his nose as if the idea nauseates him.

  “Let me guess. The program includes members from both sides.”

  “Yep,” Manu replies. “It’s a disgrace.”

  I touch my shoulder, reliving the moment when Boone, Tatiana’s son, slashed me with a blade forged with vampire’s bane. The stuff will weaken vampires when ingested, but when it enters the bloodstream, it will render even Bluebloods paralyzed. The motherfucker almost killed me that night. If it wasn’t for Ronan and Saxon, I’d be dead.

  I can’t believe we must now coexist with those filthy bastards. You can’t erase seven hundred years of bad blood.

  “But the Red Guard is not dead though,” Saxon adds, smiling mischievously.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means when Tatiana tries to steal the crown from the rightful king, we’ll be ready to take the bitch down,” Manu replies with a manic glint in her eyes.

  “Good. How many hours until sundown?”

  “You have the whole day, brother,” Manu replies. I glare at her, and she continues, “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t control the planet’s orbitational schedule. But you need that time to get ready.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Yeah, but you look like crap. Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?” Saxon laughs.

  “God, a hundred years later, and you’re still not funny.”

  He opens his eyes wider in indignation. “What do you mean, I’m not funny? I’m hilarious.”

  Ignoring the pain in the ass, I walk over to the mirror on the far wall. Shit. He wasn’t kidding. I look like a corpse who just came back to life.

  Manu stands next to me and watches my reflection. “You’re so pale now; we almost look alike.”

  She manages to say that with a straight face, but I know how much her appearance pains her. She used to have the same coloring as me. Tanned skin, dark hair, brown eyes. But thanks to Maewe’s curse, her face and her hair washed out of color. Her irises would have turned white too if my uncle hadn’t stopped the Nightingale queen.

  “I suppose I need a haircut,” I say.

  “Fo sho, bro.” Saxon comes closer, sucking on something.

  “What the hell do you have in your mouth?”

  He pulls a dark red heart-shaped candy out. “This? It’s a blood sucker. Get it? Because it’s made out of blood?”

  “That sounds horrible,” I reply.

  “Not worse than those bags of blood you just chowed down.” He shrugs.

  My stomach growls in response. I’m no longer at the risk of entering bloodlust, but it doesn’t mean I’m not hungry. I need to feed from a live source—badly.

  Ignoring him, I turn to Manu. “How much time do you need to make me look like I belong to this century?”

  She smiles from ear to ear, showing a hint of her fangs. “Four, maybe five hours tops.”

  Ronan snorts. “You have an hour. Lucca hasn’t held a blade in almost a hundred years. He needs to practice.”

  I lock gazes with my best friend through the mirror’s reflection, reading what’s in his mind loud and clear. There might be a truce in place, but the war is far from over.

  4

  Lucca

  Present Time

  “You sure you want to do this?” Ronan glances at me sideways as we leave the VIP area.

  “The vampire’s bane is already out of my system.”

  “I’m not talking about that. You got hurt badly the last time you faced Tatiana’s minions. I can smell your thirst for revenge.”

  My nostrils flare. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

  “No shit, but you can’t challenge those bastards in the middle of Havoc,” Saxon interjects. “Even if we don’t agree with the truce, we can’t break it. Those who do are severely punished.”

  I snarl in response. That’s something I’ll never get used to. What was my uncle thinking? How could he make peace with the monster responsible for taking so many innocent lives? My father died while fighting Tatiana’s forces, and I’ve lost count of how many times that bitch has tried to kill every single last member of our family.

  When I reach the club’s main area, the crowd of humans, familiars, and vampires part to let me pass. I’ve been gone for a long time but not forgotten. They call me the Dark Prince with reason. I’m known to be ruthless
in battle, to kill my enemies without mercy. I’m not only second-generation Blueblood; I’m also the next in line to be king.

  I spot the sons of bitches right away, hanging close to the bar. There are four of them—third-generation Bluebloods—acting like they belong here. In an instant, I’m on edge again. I still haven’t gotten over the incident with the human thief, and now, watching those assholes laughing like they own the place makes my blood boil. Maybe they were the ones who sent the human.

  Ronan puts a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. “Lucca, what are you doing?”

  “What?” I glower at him.

  “Your eyes are glowing red, and your fangs are exposed. You were going for the kill.”

  At that precise moment, the vermin quartet turns to me. Their first reaction is of surprise, followed by wariness.

  Good. Fear me, scum.

  Using all my willpower to suppress the anger, I walk over. “You’re in my way. Move,” I say, dangerously calm.

  “Wow, someone is cranky after such a long nap.” One of them chuckles.

  Automatically, I peel my lips back to reveal my fangs.

  Saxon jumps in front of me, blocking my path. “Why don’t you just run along? No one has time for your lame repertoire.”

  “Last time I checked, you don’t own the place, jackass,” the male closest to Saxon retorts.

  Fuck. I don’t know if I can control the fury raging in the pit of my stomach. If I had my blade with me, none of those assholes would still have their heads attached to their necks. No wonder Ronan forbade me to come armed. But I can still turn them into pulp with my bare hands.

  “They don’t. But I do.” Derek Blackwater appears out of nowhere.

  Hell, I should have been able to sense his approach.

  “And if you can’t behave in a civil manner, then you’re out of here.”

  Tatiana’s puppets cower in his presence. Derek is tall and packing muscles; no one could tell at one glance that this male was made, not born. When Bluebloods had the ability to turn humans into vampires, they did so aleatorily. But whoever sired Derek knew exactly what they were doing.