I moved through the battlefield like a storm let loose. My claws were gleaming red with the blood of my enemies, my wolf pulsing under my skin and pushing to come out, my body alive with anger. Around me, chaos reigned. Wolves howled, vampires hissed, blades clashed, and the ground was covered in the dead from both sides.
The fight had gone on for hours, neither side willing to give up. Too much pride and hate that had lasted for centuries. Every vampire I struck down only made me want more. Their screams couldn't drown out the pounding in my head, the call to kill, to end, to prove my bloodline's strength.
My father, the Alpha King, had ordered me to the front.
He always did.
"Mercy is weakness," he used to say. "Hesitation is death."
So I fought like I was raised to, without mercy, without pause.
A vampire lunged from my side, fangs bared. I turned, slashing fast and deep. My claws ripped across his throat and he fell to the ground, choking on his own blood.
"Pathetic," I hissed as I watched him join the seas of bodies surrounding me.
I continued fighting, pushing my wolves forward as we gained ground on the vampires. A few more hours and we'll come out the victors. This thought in my head gave me more strength but I became a little distracted when I caught sight of Kael, my Beta. He was pushing through my wolves and hurrying over to me.
"The vampire prince is here," He said once he got to where I was and I felt the change in the air immediately the words were out of his mouth.
"Which one of them?" I asked.
"The youngest," Kael said and I could see the fear in his eyes.
"We keep fighting," I growled while willing my heart that was now racing fast to calm down. We were winning the war already, I could not let my fear show. I let something else consume and fuel me instead, my hate and anger
I'd heard his name all my life—Silas. The youngest vampire prince. The one who never showed his face at councils or gatherings. He didn't bow to anyone. Didn't follow rules. He only came when he wished and only during wars and left bodies behind when he did.
I've hated him all my life. Hated the name he created for himself, one I'd never have. I hated that all my life I've been compared to me. Everyone wanted to see if I could defeat this battle lord. My father pushed me hard because of him.
In my thirty years of existence, not a single day had passed without hearing his name. But finally, I would meet him. And I'd prove everyone wrong by killing him and ending this battle once and for all.
The hair at my neck stood to attention and a prickle of unease raced down my spine as I knocked another vampire out. I spun around, my eyes flickering with anger as I searched for him among the bloody battle raging on around me.
The hair on my neck rose, a chill crawling down my spine as I cut down another vampire. My eyes scanned the blood-soaked field until they found him.
He was floating midair, arms crossed behind his back, observing the raging battle below with a bored expression that made my temper spike.
He wore a dark robe. His long black hair was tied in a loose ponytail atop his head. His skin was pale as moonlight, his eyes glowing a sharp crimson, the same color as the blood at the corner of his lips. The blood of one of my wolves.
A furious roar tore out of me, my fingers elongating into claws as I prepared to lunge. But before I could move, a shadow rushed at me. It was a vampire, fast as wind. I caught him by the throat, ready to crush his windpipe, when a sudden, brutal force snapped against my arm, nearly wrenching it from its socket. Pain shot through me, and I howled.
Before I could react, a cold hand clamped around my throat. My feet left the ground as I was lifted effortlessly, the world blurring past. The wind whipped my hair across my face. The scent of earth, blood, and dirt filled my lungs.
I fought wildly against the invisible hold, clawing, kicking, snarling, but it was useless. The grip was unyielding, stronger than any I'd faced. I caught only flashes of dark hair, pale skin, and a black robe fluttering like shadow as we moved through the trees at terrifying speed.
Then—impact.
Pain exploded through my back as I was slammed against a tree. Bark cracked beneath me, and the air was driven from my lungs. The sounds of battle faded. No screams, no fire. Only the heavy silence of the forest.
"Careful, little lamb," A soft melodic voice whispered against my ear, the breath of my captor cold against my skin, "You might spill blood that matters and just destroy the fragile bond that is left,"
"Let go," I growled, trying to shove the person away. Instead I was met with a harsh laugh before the person leaned back and his face came into view.
I froze in shock, my head hammering so loudly I could hear the sound of it. It was Silas. He was the one who disarmed me and took me from the battle.
Destructive anger exploded within and I began to fight against his hold, struggling madly to free myself but he effortlessly stopped at my kicks and punches. By the time I realized I could not free myself and decide to stop fighting, I was breathing fast and hard while he remained calm. It was as if he had been standing to the side and watching me struggle, not fighting with me. His calmness was insulting. His mere presence was insulting.
I growled, trying to shove him off one last time, but he didn't budge. He pushed me back until my shoulders hit the tree again. Bark cracked beneath me.
My claws slashed across his chest again, tearing through his dark robe and drawing blood but he didn't even flinch.
"Let me go," I snarled through my teeth.
"You'd like that," he murmured, leaning in. "But maybe I wouldn't."
His hand slid up, fingers brushing my throat. He pressed, just enough to make my pulse jump beneath his cold touch. He pressed, not to choke, just to remind me how easily he could. My heartbeat thundered beneath his cold hand.
I hated it. This feeling of helplessness. This feeling of being unable to break free from his hold or even injure him enough to cause him to flinch or experience the pain I was feeling. My heart was in my throat as my mind went to my wolves who were still fighting.
Without their alpha, they would be thrown into confusion. I offered a silent prayer to the moon goddess that before they would notice my absence I'd be back with them.
"Kill me," I spat. "Or get out of my sight."
Silas' red eyes darkened. For a second, the calm broke and I saw dark hunger. Hunger for my blood. My throat closed up and for the first time, my anger gave way to real fear. With the hatred between our kind, he could easily kill me.
He smiled, slow and cruel. "Kill you?" His thumb traced my jaw, light as a whisper. "No. That would be too easy."
He let go of me all at once. I gasped, almost tumbling over. My throat still burned where he'd touched me.
"You're more interesting alive," he said softly.
Then he moved, a blur I could barely see, and his claws sliced across my neck. Pain exploded hot and sharp. Blood poured down my collarbone.
The wound was deep, but not deep enough to kill me.
I staggered, clutching the wound, eyes blazing with fury.
"Wait—!" I started, but he was already calmly walking away.
He paused once just as he was a few feet away, glancing over his shoulder, red eyes glowing under the dark sky.
"You'll remember me, little wolf," he said, voice like velvet and venom. "Even if you try not to."
Then he vanished into the night, leaving me standing there, bleeding, shaking, humiliated.
All that remained was his faint scent of wild berries and smoke and a wound that was quickly healing up and the hate that was burning a hole in my chest.