Two Kings For Ellie

"Jumpy eyes, isn't that what you're called?" King Vanchure asked as he dipped a painted brush into the palette. He knew the name my Pack called me because of my eye disorder. That was what I could ponder on later, after I had gotten my request granted. It took me a whole lot to get to him; I was coated with a magical liquid that masked scents that I stole from Eamonn. If Eamonn finds out I was here, in the dwelling of our enemy because I wanted to save my twin sister, he would forget we were ever mates and deal with me according to the law. One plan: get in, retrieve my sister, and get out.

If it would be as easy as I had plotted in my head.

"I have come to seek that which you hold dear to me, my twin sister. Where is she?" My chest heaved from the long trudge in the cool woodlands of Black Pack. I was shocked at the way I spoke. I spoke bravely like I wasn't in the presence of a powerful vampire. I laughed at my stupidity. I swallowed down the lump that built up in my throat as I spoke. It's so hard to stand in his presence. The room reeked of fresh blood and King Vanchure's dominance.

I can barely keep up with my jelly legs even as he has his back to me in an unbothered and unfazed manner. Oh, yes. He owned this place, and I was the intruder. The intruder who might become a prey with no escape even as I stood drenched at the doorway. The message of my sister in captivity was carried in a small note to me by a raven. Just like the old times.

Ravens don't belong to the werewolves who were formally known to be The soldiers. They were raised by the the vampires, which were as well, formally known as the Royalties. The Royalties used that bird to send life-threatening messages to the heart of the unfortunate victims. I read books about the Royalties so I knew. And the life-threatening message came from the nonchalant-looking king sitting shirtless at one end of the dim room. I remember the heaviness I felt in my chest as I read the note line by line. I watched out for when the sun was down and ventured into the woodlands of Black Pack on my own in the heavy rainstorm without the notice of anyone in the Pack house; sharp thorns pierced into my skin, but I cared not. My healing ability saw me through. Anything to get my sister out of Vanchure's hands.

"I'm not just the vampire king of tales, Ellie. I'm a talented artist." Van said with every stroke he made on the canvas with his paintbrush. "So you can either be the one posing on the couch, behind the canvas or be the one whose blood I will use in replacement for paints."

I suppressed the sob that wanted an outlet. "You... you've killed my sister, haven't you?" Hot tears rolled down my cheeks the moment I said the last words. His statement told me the obvious. I heard he does not only drink the blood of his victims, he goes as far as using the blood to paint on his canvas victoriously.

"I spared your sister's life the moment I saw your willingness to show up. I heard stories of one omega soldier who was hopelessly fearless, and for some reason, I craved to see her myself. I'm very much pleased to meet you, Ellie." He said without looking at me. The way he said my name, like he was irritated by the mere thought of 'Ellie.' It meant light. Vampire's weakness. "Make no move, Edgar. I'm trying to get the plumpness of your rosy lips." He made a glance at his male consort, and then back on the canvas. From where I stood, I could see his artistic work. It was a duplicate half-done painting of his consort on his canvas. Such a talented devil.

It was his consort he gave more attention to, not me. Not that I ever wished to be his target of main focus, but how else do I expect him to listen to me if all I did was stand there like a chunk of wet wood?

If he said he spared Isla, then she's somewhere waiting for a miraculous rescue. I need to free my sister.

I needed to free Isla, even if it's the last thing I do to prove to her I cared about her.

"What is it you want from us?" I said breathlessly. What I have asked will either get me killed or save me. Vanchure paused his strokes on the canvas and set the brush at the base of the canvas. His back straightened.

"Edgar, leave us. Now." He said to the man who lay on the white plush couch in front of him.

"Yes, Master." Was the reply of his consort as he slowly stood up, making slow steps out of the room, I took note of a scornful glance he gave him on his way out.

Now it was just the two of us. Ellie and King Vanchure. Light and darkness. One was clearly dominating, and it was definitely not light.

I wasn't feeling alright with the silence that hovered above us after Edgar left, but who was I to speak first? I wasn't sure of the vampire king's current mood.

Has what I asked pissed him off?

He turned slowly on the donkey chair, sitting so he could face me, finally giving me an audience. This was someone I read about in books; he was a mystery to me, having to know him all the years of my existence. He swept a loose strand of his wavy white hair to the back of his ear. I forced myself to look into his challenging eyes. I doubt if I've ever felt this captivated by manliness in my life, not even the first time I saw Eamonn. This vampire king was more than what the books described him as. Books gave a poor description of his face and body; his eyes were the lightest gray, matching perfectly with his white hair.

My inward admiration was cut short by the sound of him clearing his throat. "It's not what I want from you both; it's what I want from you, Ellie. I needed her to get to you. It was the only way I could drag you out of those choking arms of your so-called mate, Eamonn." His gray eyes held mine, but where mine held were his blood-red lips, which looked like he had just had fed, but once he was done with his speech, I tore my eyes from his lips to focus well on his eyes.

"W... what? Why..." My brain denied me any logical words; my lips shook in the utterance of nothing. Like my eyes gave out my unasked questions, he replied. "Your sister is back in your pack, unharmed. It is you that I want. Need, rather."

Fear settled in my stomach on hearing his words; there's nothing the vampire king could possibly need from me. The blood that runs through my vein is the weakest there is. Not alpha blood, not beta blood, but an omega's. Isla had beta blood. And if he had ever conquered any werewolf, it was probably the Alpha wolves he'd kill and drink of their blood. From what I heard, he was impermeable to wolves' blood. It doesn't make him a hybrid, but it adds to his might and strength

He folded his arms, watching me intently; he sucked his tooth, shaking his head. "Too bad Eamonn left his damsel to journey down to Throx Coven on her own; isn't he a bad lover?" He asked in a mocking tone.

Before I could manage to speak, Vanchure appeared in front of me. "Ellie..." he said breathily, "... call me Van; that's what my friends call me." He said softly, reaching to touch my face, "I am not your friend." I breathed, once I uttered that statement, he sneered. "That's fine; we can start slow. I don't rush, you know that." He said as he inched closer to me, his warm breath fanned my face. In a place cold as his art room, I felt so hot. Heat erupted from my insides; with his face this close to mine, I could barely count the amount of lashes that roofed those beautiful yet wicked eyes of his.

What are his plans with me?

And even if there were, what would he probably need me for? I allowed his hands to run down my shoulder.

I stood unable to breathe as his eyes swept down my body; my silk white dress had turned see-through due to the rain I had come from. His eyes lingered on my cleavage and then on my neck.

Oh, no. This is not a good time to die. My heart hammered in my ribcage. He does not only see my fear; I knew he heard it as well. Loud and clear.

His lips parted; his canines grew into sharp fangs. He glides his tongue on the sharp end of his fangs. He would have looked so hot if his intent wasn't to drive those fangs of his into my skin. "You're much more useful than you think. I like the rhythm of your heartbeat. I need that blood it pumps."

Ellie

I acted on impulse, pushing him away from me the moment he leaned close. This is someone whose speed superseded mine. He could be as fast as lightning, but he chose to launch his attack slowly. He leaned back, grinning. He drew a long breath and said, "I would really love to see you fight your way out of this. But I will have you know that in the end..." He shakes his head slowly. "There's no escape from this. You could be fighting with me, but..."

"I would die fighting," I said fiercely as I interjected. I positioned my trembling arms out, ready to get defensive. I knew fully well that if he wanted to make an attack, he would be able to subdue me before my very own eyes. It was my blood he wanted. For a reason I knew nothing about. I wouldn't let him have it easily. What a fool I would be to allow my predator to have victory over me without a fair fight. "We are both spilling each other's blood, even if you would kill me after all. My Park will be proud of me that I had to fight the vampire king, even if it was for my life."

His smile grew broader; my face grew angrier, waging a fight for my life. It would be worth fighting for; I had a few people I think cared about me: Murray, my godfather; Isla; and maybe Eamonn. All of whom had no idea of the danger I was facing at the moment.

"You're a feisty girl. I will see how far that gets you, Ellie." He said with open arms as he strides backward. There was a large mahogany table close to where Edgar was seated. He tapped on the red button at the edge of the large table, and I heard the door lock behind me. My heartbeat sped up. I'm dead. But not completely dead till I fight. There was only one thing the books I read about him were right about. King Vanchure of the Thorx Coven was the most vicious man alive. Soon this room will reek of both the metallic stench of my blood as well.

He stood five feet apart from me. Arms folded. His chiseled jaws tightened as he remained rooted at a close distance. His eyes urged me to show him my fear and maybe the strength that was dying within me. My wolf has turned its back on me after several warnings that the man that stood before me was deadly, so much for being in my head all along. He watched me like a hawk, studying me like he was planning every slick move of defense when I tried to attack.

I figured if I shifted to my wolf, my bite would be lethal to him. That was going to be my second move. First, I quickly retrieved a gun filled with a wooden bullet strapped to my right thigh. I held my gaze with him all through the process. I wasn't really good with guns, but I had a few self-defense lessons with my godfather; Murray taught me, which was still fresh in my clouded mind. One pull of the trigger sent an unaimed shot to his left shoulder. I aimed for his heart, but the bullet did poorly by scraping through the upper layer of his skin. The force at which the wooden bullet hit pushed him backwards, but he recovered just immediately. At least I got to see his cold blood streaming down from his shoulder. His was the first to be spilled. My heavy heart danced at that sight. His eyes raked his skin that had been dented. "Quite impressive, Ellie." He affirmed, bringing his gaze back to me. "I do have a thing against harming women. So here's what I will do... He says as he strides slowly to me, "... I'll let you have another shot at me. I want you to aim my heart perfectly, and I'll leave you to run to the arms of your mate and your sister. Failure to do so, I will have what I demand. Your blood. Deal?" He asked, arching his left brow as he sneered.

"Deal."

Oh, that Murray's lesson will come into great use right now. The thought of having to kill the famous Van felt really satisfying. That is if he was ever defeatable. A book of his I had I. my collections spoke of him being able to crush hundreds of soldiers at a go.

"Come on then." He had his arms spread out. That mockery smirk never leaves his lips. With one eye closed and the other targeting the trophy part of his body, I pulled the trigger and took a straight shot.

Fuck no.

His laughter crowned my failure. This was it; I had lost this fight. Blood spilled from the upper part of his chest, just above his heart.

A slim chance of hitting my target.

When his maniacal laughter had died out. We stare into each other's eyes in a deafening silence. "Jumpy eyes, you've lost for the second time." His words dragged; his eyes turned blood red as he spoke. His fangs that had receded to normal canines were back out to make the kill.

I had carried out my first plan; it was time for the second. So when he lunged forward swiftly, not as fast though, I shifted out of his path, shifting into my wolf subconsciously. I stood on four limbs. Van, having missed his target, stared deadly at me. My wolf felt weak.

"Ee, please try to cooperate with me. Vanchure wants us killed for no just cause." I spoke to my wolf, hoping it could hear me. I see through its blurry vision. Van, who approached us slowly, was split into two on each side of my wolf's eyes. I'm gradually being drained of my strength.

"Ee, come on, please. Run at least."

My wolf couldn't respond to my plea. I forced my legs to move from this dead-end danger. No way. I should have just stayed in my human form. I feel lightheaded, like I'm about to faint. What is happening to me?

With my last strength, I voiced out to my wolf, "Ee, help me."

I lost consciousness in the woodlands of Black Pack, which I've always known to be my home all my life. For all I knew, I was running so fast on my paws at one moment, and the next thing, I found myself lying still at the large gates of the Pack house; my limbs felt wobbly and shaky beneath me.

I had no idea how I managed to make it this far to this point still alive, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be told how. My clear white furs were stained with blood that had dried and become tacky; I refused to bring my mind to know the source of the blood either. All I just wanted right now was my mate; I wanted him to wrap his firm arms around me and declare that I was safe, even though a large part of me knew that it was false. I was doomed. Still, his words might and could go a long way.

What had happened to me? Who must have done this to me? Why can't I remember a single thing? I hope this wasn't the effect of his compelling. As far as my brains could search, I was told Isla walked into the trap of the Royalties.

My sister was held by the dangerous claws of Van, the vampire king...I went into the dwellings of the Royalties. My mind, totally blank on what had happened next.

The wounds in my chest that were now healing up were sealed up in a horrid and untraceable memory, but the strong scent of strange blood needled my fur in the most torturing and dominating way...the healing course of the blood was proof enough that none of what had happened to me was a dream. I was trapped in a forgotten ride. It was more like an already existing nightmare.

A pair of loafers came into my line of view. "Where are you coming from at the crack of dusk?" Eamonn's voice echoed in the bridge of my weak senses. I felt too weak to take my gaze to him. "Go and get her a blanket, Brant." He ordered his right man, who was a human and like a son to him. The Beta of the Black Pack. He stormed off to get Eamonn's request, leaving dust at his feet for me to inhale. I choked on the polluted air for a moment, but I perceived no less pungent scent that was more than in one on my skin.

There was someone else by his left; I couldn't make anything of the man that stood on his left side. Too weak for that. Brant returned in an instant with a black blanket just as he left. I managed to haul up on my paws but fell to the ground just immediately, lying to the side of my stomach. I could almost get a proper view of the three of them; the one by his left was no other person than my godfather, Murray. He looked straight into the space with folded arms. I'm looking into the eyes of someone I had as a father figure since the death of my parents.

Brant came forward with the blanket he held in his hands to cover up my wife when Eamonn put out his hands to hold him off. "Stand back, Brant." His loud command made Brant stop in his tracks. Brant stood up straight, looking Eamonn in the eyes, who had eyes glued to me.

I heard snarls behind me; my gaze reverted to the rest of the Pack members, some of whom were already in their wolf forms, most of them. They kept their distance while they watched me intently like I was some wild beast encroaching on their territory. They bared their long fangs at me like I was a serious threat they needed to eliminate before something more deadly than what they knew would sprout from me. Why? Was I now a stranger, or could they not recognize me any longer? We knew each other's scent; that's how we knew our kind. I wasn't having my scent. It felt like it was stolen from me and replaced with another of a different kind. I couldn't recognize my own scent anymore due to the blood that was masked on my fur.

My wounds had healed up, giving me a little strength to haul up. I received a restraining order from Eamonn's men once I did. "Do not get up!" He said as he slowly circled me, he reached for a gun-loaded with silver slugs-in the pocket of his pants. He made his way slowly to my side, pointing the gun to the core of which my blood pumped.

My thoughts were going wild. What had I done to deserve this from my own people? "She smells of foreign blood. An enemy's blood. A vampire's blood. She's now one of them, and as such, she will be killed on sight." The look of disgust was bright on his face. Only his voice was what echoed in my head, plus the sound of the trigger he pulled. My mate, pointing a gun loaded with silver slugs at me. I would have sworn this day would never come to taste the bitterness of humiliation. Nausea filled my gut, threatening to erupt to the surface. What was he talking about? What was happening? Murray. I looked into the eyes of my godfather, who stood present like he was absent, his lips folded into a thin line. "Throw the blankets over her blankets over her, Brant." Eamonn ordered Brant, who stood shocked by his side as his eyes were pinned on mine.

Brant is unfortunately the only one who wasn't able to smell the vampire scent Eamonn spoke of. Why? Because he was a human. But Eamonn taught him how to fight. He was more skillful in fights than most of the actual wolves. Brant did as he was told, throwing the blanket over me while keeping his distance. I'm supposed to be scared of the gun pointed at me, but I'm not. My heart, which was going to be shot by my mate, was supposed to race ten times faster than normal, but for some sort of reason, it didn't. Instead I'm trying to wrap my mind around what had just been said about me. "You betrayed us, you betrayed your Pack, you betrayed me." I tried to talk with him through our mind link, only to discover that it had been breached. I shook my head ruefully as there was no way to communicate through our mind link. At least he would be able to see it in my eyes that I knew nothing about what he'd just said about me. I didn't betray you or my Pack either; I do not know what's going on. I'm still yours; I'm still the Ellie you've always known. His eyes narrowed as he gripped the hand of his gun tightly. Like he could read through my thoughts, he said, "The blood on which you're stained is that of a vampire."

My bones crunched; my wolf gave way for my human form. "Please, Eamonn, I don't know what you mean by..."

"I would only spare your life if you leave this pack and never show your face in it. As I, Alpha Eamonn, and now your former mate, have commanded, you are hereby caught from the spawn of the forewolves of Black Pack."