Killian’s POV
The emergency signal through the blood link from Flint struck me like a lightning bolt.
Amara was under attack.
Every predatory instinct in my vampire form screamed at me to reach that decrepit trailer immediately.
I knew it was our most vulnerable territory, a weakness I should have fortified long ago.
The trailer park squatted on the outskirts of Moonscar territory like a festering wound.
That’s where we had banished Amara and her human mother, Sylvia, because the entire clan wanted to erase them from memory.
My father wanted to forget them.
Forget what her vampire father had sacrificed to protect the previous prince.
I commanded my warriors through the blood link.
No more games with these aberrant creatures.
Kill them swiftly and efficiently.
They obeyed without question.
We moved through the shadows with supernatural speed, our forms blurring across the frozen streets.
By the time we materialized near the trailer, chaos had erupted.
Flint was fighting desperately, outnumbered but holding his ground against multiple aberrant vampires whose human consciousness had been devoured by their own blood spirits, leaving only mindless killing machines.
Then I saw her.
A figure with her back to me, standing protectively near the trailer.
Massive white wings spread from her shoulders, gleaming like moonlight against the darkness.
The creature turned when she sensed our approach, and those eyes stopped me cold.
Amara’s eyes, unmistakable even in this transformed state.
She was magnificent and terrifying, her white wings stained with dark blood.
Amara was a White-Winged Progenitor.
How had I never known?
She swayed on her feet, clearly wounded, her wings trembling with exhaustion.
Without hesitation, we charged past her into the remaining pack of aberrants.
My warriors moved with deadly precision, following my earlier command to end this quickly.
When the last aberrant fell to ash, I turned to find Amara collapsed on the frozen ground, her wings folding back into her human form.
She lay unconscious and vulnerable, her skin pale against the dark concrete.
“Amara, open your eyes sweetie.
Please open your eyes.” Sylvia’s desperate voice cut through the silence as she knelt beside her daughter.
I shifted back to my human appearance, accepting a coat from one of my warriors.
Without thinking, I rushed into the trailer and grabbed Amara’s blanket from the threadbare couch.
I wrapped it around her carefully, then lifted her into my arms. This story is hosted at g.com.
“What are you doing with her?
Leave her alone.
I don’t want you anywhere near her!” Sylvia’s voice cracked with fury and terror.
I couldn’t blame her for despising me.
The clan had treated them like parasites.
Flint had to physically restrain Sylvia as I began moving toward the Moonscar medical facility.
Every step felt critical, Amara’s shallow breathing against my chest the only sound that mattered.
The clan physician was already waiting when I burst through the medical wing doors.
I placed Amara on the examination table and stepped back, though every fiber of my being wanted to stay close.
“How severe are her injuries?” I demanded, peering through the doorway.
The physician’s expression was grave.
“Deep lacerations across her back and shoulders.
Multiple puncture wounds from aberrant claws.
We need to start blood transfusions immediately.
Those creatures carry corrupted essences, and we cannot risk spiritual contamination.
She’s lost significant blood as well.
The progenitor transformation drained her reserves.”
“Then do it.
Now.” The command came out harsher than I intended, but the physician nodded and began working immediately.
“Killian!” Lydia’s shrill voice echoed through the medical corridor as she swept in, her designer dress and jewelry completely out of place in the sterile environment.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?
Why are you helping this half-breed?
I heard you went to that disgusting trailer park yourself.” Her voice dripped with contempt.
I forced myself to sound indifferent.
“The aberrants breached our territory there.
I had to eliminate the threat personally.
She was injured in the crossfire, so I brought her here.
She might not be welcome among the nobility, but she’s still clan blood.”
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t let Lydia suspect the truth.
“She’s worthless, Killian.
Come on, you can check on her condition later if you’re so concerned about clan obligations.” Lydia grabbed my hand possessively, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my skin.
She looked so fragile under the harsh medical lights, her platinum hair spread across the pillow like spilled moonlight.
Sylvia and Flint were rushing through the entrance as Lydia pulled me away.
Back at the clan manor, I poured myself a glass of vintage blood wine and listened to the casualty reports.
Only minor injuries on our side, nothing serious.
The aberrant creatures had been completely eliminated, or so my enforcers reported.
Then came the detail that made my blood run cold.
“Prince Killian, we identified the lead aberrant.
What remained of its consciousness belonged to Fang.”
I had known he would return eventually.
Fang always came back to finish what he started.
But I hadn’t expected him to target Amara and Sylvia.
Not after what happened to her father, his supposed blood brother.
“Alright.
I want to know what the hell is going on with you.” Lydia’s voice cut through my thoughts.
She stood in the middle of the opulent sitting room, her foot tapping impatiently against the marble floor.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, already exhausted by this conversation.
“Don’t play ignorant.
You haven’t shown interest in me lately.
No intimacy, no affection, nothing.
You only act devoted when my uncle is present.
Are you just using me to maintain political connections with his bloodline?”
Her accusation struck closer to the truth than I cared to admit.
“Of course not.
There are simply clan matters you don’t understand.”
“Prove it to me.
Right here, right now.” She stepped closer, her fingers working at the fastenings of her dress.
The expensive fabric began to slip from her shoulders.
I stared at her, knowing I should feel something.
Desire, attraction, anything.
But all I could think about was Amara lying unconscious in that medical bed, fighting for her life because I had failed to protect her.
Inside my mind, my vampire spirit Caius was howling with rage and desperation, clawing at my consciousness.
He wanted to return to Amara immediately, to guard her while she was vulnerable, to ensure no one could harm her again.
For once, my human thoughts and vampire instincts were in complete agreement.