“Nicolai,” the man in front of him said, impatient. “Are you paying attention to me?”

“Of course not. Otherwise, I would have heard what you said, and you wouldn’t be about to repeat yourself.”

Dayn chuckled.

Father was not amused, and did not reward Nicolai for his honesty. “I have meetings to attend, son. Meetings in another kingdom, which means you will be in charge while I’m gone. I need to know you can defend yourself and those you love. Pay attention. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” He focused on the happenings before him, weighing the metal in his hands. “Why must we practice over and over again? I’m good.”

“You’re good, but you need to be great. Last time I managed to stab you in the back so badly you scarred!” There was hard admonishment in his father’s voice. “You must learn to work with all weapons, at all times of the day and night. You must work with one hand, both hands, standing, sitting and injured. Without becoming distracted.”

Nicolai raised his chin. “Why can’t I just kill my opponents with my fangs and be done with it?” He’d done so before. Many times. Until his mother’s prediction had come true, and he’d destroyed an entire village simply to punish a man for beating his wife.

He’d at last taken control of his emotions and hadn’t lost his temper since. That didn’t mean his fangs were useless, though.

“And if your fangs have been pried out of your mouth?” his father demanded.

“No one would ever be foolish enough to remove my fangs. Mother says I’m the most powerful vampire in the world. I can walk in the light, and I can steal power from anyone I choose.”

“No, she says you will be.” His father’s expression hardened. “You are a prince, Nicolai. The crown prince. Many in this world and the other will covet your direct line to my throne. Many will try and hurt you simply to hurt me. You must know how to defend yourself, always, for every situation.”

Nicolai gave the sword another once-over. Long, thin and polished to a vibrant shine. He was not used to its heaviness, or the thickness of the hilt. “Very well. I will train some more, but why are you not teaching Dayn?”

“So many questions.” His father sighed.

“Why must he watch? He’s a prince, too, you know.” And so very eager to learn. Each day, after Nicolai’s lessons, Dayn begged to be taught. Nicolai could never resist him.

He loved his brother, and would die for him. A boy most in the palace feared. Dayn had an affinity with the animals that roamed the grounds, preferring to run with them rather than to walk alongside his own people.

Nicolai understood his brother’s need. Sometimes he, too, felt animalistic in nature, most especially when his temper used to overtake him, shattering his control and leaving only a need to destroy, to hurt others.

“His time will come,” the king said. “Soon.”

“But not the new princess, right? She’ll always be too delicate.” He sneered the last.

“Breena is newly born, and she is not a blood drinker like you and Dayn. She is a witch like her mother. You and Dayn must always protect her. In turn, she will heal your people after battle as your mother used to do.”

Shame had Nicolai looking down at his dirty boots. He was the reason his mother could no longer heal the wounds of others. He hadn’t meant to, but he had stolen her ability. She hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t even yelled at him.

He would do anything to return the ability to her. Yet, he could not. Once taken, he could not give back. Ever. He’d tried, over and over again. The only thing he could do, his mother had said, was learn how to control his newly discovered talent for absorbing the magic of others. And he had, remaining in his bedroom for weeks, reading, studying and practicing.

“Do you think I’ll be a great leader, like you?” he asked.

“I think you and your questions will be the death of me, boy.” The king held out his own sword, touching the metal against Nicolai’s. “Let us begin.”

Darkness.

Nicolai was panting now, sweating uncontrollably. Trembling. His hands ached. He looked at them. He must have clawed at his temples, trying to stop the pain from exploding through him, because his nail beds were bloody, his claws mere stumps.

His father had warned him.

His father. The king.

His name truly was Nicolai. Odette had not lied about that. She’d known who and what he was. They all had. So highborn, Laila had liked to say, and now he knew why. He was a prince. A crown prince, and one day, a king.

A brother to Breena. His sister. His beautiful baby sister with her golden curls. She’d grown into a lovely woman with a heart of fire, despite the fact that she was always protected, always guarded. Nicolai had snuck her out a few times, wanting her to have a taste of the freedom he took for granted. Where was she now?

Dayn, the brother closest to him, as dark and dangerous as the night, and just as beloved. Where was he?

His father, proud and strong. Honorable, determined. Unwilling to back away from any challenge. Where was he?

His mother, soft and gentle, so nurturing, even in the face of his most violent tempers. Where was she?

Micah, the youngest son, so full of life. Where was he?

Nicolai pulled himself into a crouch. Somehow, he had moved out of the forest. He was now in front of a lake. Not the lake he’d shared with Jane. This water was thick and red. Every few seconds, a hissing, snapping, flesh-colored fish would fly from the surface, arch in the air, then dive back in.

The rocks around him were dagger sharp. A hundred yards away, in the center of all that crimson, was a castle. Dark mold clung to the walls, more of those slithering plants crawling in every direction. There was a walkway, a line of monsters patrolling it.

They hadn’t noticed him, but they would. He was out in the open and needed to find shelter. Perhaps feed to strengthen himself. Then he needed to find Jane. She was out there, somewhere. If she was hurt…

She had better not be hurt. He must protect her at all cost. Yet, even as determined as he was, he only managed to crawl a few feet before the next memory hit him, welding him in place.

In this newest scene, he was a grown man, his dark hair shagging around his shoulders. He was bare chested and seated on a bank of rocks, much like the one he’d just seen. Only, the rocks were smooth, the water clear. He’d removed his boots before sitting down, and those were dry, waiting for him on the beach, but his pants were soaked through and caked in salt.

The moon was high, golden, the sky bright with scattered stars. They winked down at him, mocking him with their tranquility. His mind offered more chaos than he thought he could bear.

His father, King Aelfric, was sick.

The healers did not know if he would recover. Nicolai’s mother, Queen Alvina, was frantic with worry. She’d tried countless spells and incantations, yet nothing she’d done had worked. Nicolai had tried countless spells, using the healing magic he’d stolen from her. Not even that elicited favorable results. Alvina suspected foul play, but until she figured out what kind of magic had been used, her hands were as good as tied.

Nicolai loved his father, gruff though the king was. Besides that, he wasn’t ready to take the throne. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready. Becoming king would mean his father was dead, and he wanted his father to live forever.

And, to be honest, despite Nicolai’s best efforts, despite a few years without a single episode, his temper sometimes got the better of him. When that happened, entire villages suffered. He was simply too volatile to rule an entire kingdom.

His father might be gruff, but he was fair. Fair, except when it came to Nicolai’s marriage. Though his father had demanded, ranted, raved, Nicolai had refused to settle down. He wasn’t ready to take a queen.

Being saddled with the same woman forever? That could become a hell as dark as the Abyss. He spent every night with a new female. Sometimes two new females. And once, three.

And all right, fine. Perhaps that lifestyle had grown tiresome. Perhaps the prize was never worthy of the chase. But some of his friends had married, and though a few were happy, the rest were miserable—and there was nothing they could do to change their fate. Marriage was forever.

His father wanted him to wed a princess from a neighboring kingdom, but he had not found one that appealed to him. Giving such creatures his name, sharing his kingdom, would grate every hour of every day.

“Nicki,” a young voice called. “Nicki!”

Nicolai was on his feet a second later, hopping along the rocks and racing toward his youngest brother. The youngest prince was on the beach, beside Nicolai’s boots, and unharmed. Relief speared him.

“Micah, damn it. What are you doing out here? Until you’re older, you’re not supposed to be near the water on your own.”

The little boy screwed up his lips, all determination and courage. “I’m not on my own! You’re here.” A mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Damn it.” Just like that, Nicolai’s anger deflated. As always, he could not stay angry with the scamp. Micah looked up to him, wanted to spend time with him, and Nicolai loved that. Loved him. Even though the boy had butchered his name while learning to speak, and his family sometimes still teased him with the nickname. “O-lie.”

At least he had later moved on to “Nicki.”

The females who made their way to Nicolai’s bed often called him by the shortened Nicki, as well, but that invited a familiarity he never seemed to feel toward them, and after a quick admonishment, they never did it again.

He was almost afraid something was wrong with him. He loved his family with his whole heart, but no one else could penetrate the barrier he’d unwittingly constructed.

“Did you come to swim?” Micah asked when Nicolai reached him.

“No, to think.”

“Can I help?” the boy asked eagerly. Golden hair gleamed in the moonlight. He smiled, two of his teeth missing. He was not a vampire, like Nicolai and Dayn, but he was powerful all the same. Though he had a warrior’s heart, he took after their mother and sister in so many ways.