Page 89 of Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Prince

When the door finally closed behind them, Luca let out a breath. “That was… intense.”

“Welcome to vampire prince life, sugar fang.” Archer winked. “Wait till they start bringing out the ancient crowns.”

“Don’t give them ideas,” Ryker warned, but his usual stoic expression had softened as he watched Luca finish the blood.

Zane checked his watch, his wolf already growing restless at the thought of leaving Luca for the council meeting. “We need to go.”

“No!” Luca’s hand shot out, grabbing Zane’s sleeve. He immediately blushed and let go. “I mean… do you have to?”

Something in Zane’s chest tightened at the boy’s obvious reluctance to be left alone. His wolf urged him to stay, to protect, to…

“Council meetings wait for no one.” Archer sighed dramatically. “Not even for adorable vampire princes who float when startled.”

“I do not—” Luca started to protest, then noticed he was indeed hovering slightly above the mattress. He dropped back down with a squeak, his cheeks flushing pink.

“We’ll be back soon,” Ryker promised, his tone gentle. “Try to rest.”

“And no more floating without supervision,” Archer added cheerfully. “Hospital policy. Very strict about unauthorized levitation.”

Luca threw a pillow at him, but he was smiling. The sight eased something in Zane’s chest, though his wolf remained unsettled. He nodded to the Whitlock security teams stationed throughout the private wing as they left—Uncle Owen’s best men, handpicked for this duty. The man had tripled the guard rotation since Luca’s fever began, with teams monitoring every entrance and exit.

“The security feeds are linked directly to my command center,” Uncle Owen had assured them that morning during the shift change. “Any unauthorized movement, any suspicious activity, and I’ll know immediately.”

It should have been enough. The highest security in their territory, their best guards, direct monitoring from their head of security. Even the Blackthorn researchers added an extra layer of protection, their presence deterring any would-be intruders.

But as they headed to the council meeting, Zane couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. His wolf paced restlessly beneath his skin, agitated despite all the precautions.

The black luxury vehicle from Whitlock’s private fleet glided through New Vale’s bustling streets, a silent predator among the morning rush. Through the tinted windows, the city’s supernatural essence pulsed with life—kitsune darting betweencrystal shops with ethereal grace, wolf packs moving with military precision, and vampires strategically navigating around the morning sun’s reach.

“If you stare any harder at those UTS entrances, they might burst into flames,” Archer drawled from the back seat. “Though that would be more Ryker’s department.”

Zane’s eyes snapped away from yet another Underground Transit System tunnel—those discreet entrances that led to New Vale’s supernatural highway network, where clan members could travel at impossible speeds through magically enhanced passages. He’d passed four already, each one tugging at his attention like a splinter under skin.

“He’s right,” Ryker said from behind the wheel, his usual calm voice touched with dry humor. “That last kitsune messenger nearly crashed into a blood vendor’s cart. Poor thing dropped all her crystal tablets.”

“I’m not—” Zane started, then caught himself staring at tunnel entrance number five. His wolf’s restlessness had him counting them, marking their locations like escape routes. But escape from what?

“You know,” Archer mused, “this might be a record. Our mighty alpha, distracted from his usual brooding by… infrastructure.” He gasped dramatically. “Unless… are you secretly passionate about urban planning? Should we alert the council?”

“I don’t brood,” Zane muttered, just as tunnel entrance number six caught his eye.

“Of course not,” Ryker agreed smoothly. “You merely engage in prolonged strategic contemplation. While looking moody.”

“Usually in conveniently shadowed corners,” Archer added helpfully. “Very aesthetic. Very alpha-like.”

The Council Hall rose before them, its crystal and steel facade hiding centuries of supernatural politics and power. Asthey stepped into the marble lobby, the usual buzz of activity died faster than a vampire’s feeding frenzy.

“Did you hear?” a young fox shifter whispered to his companion, not quite quietly enough. “Prince Valentine’s power manifested so strongly it shattered every crystal monitor in the hospital wing!”

“I heard he made the Blackthorns’ ancient blood resonate,” a leopard shifter added breathlessly. “Like pure starlight in liquid form.”

“My pack brother works security at the hospital,” a wolf insisted, “and he swears he saw the prince floating while surrounded by pure light! And then he smiled at Alan from research and he?—”

“Walked into four pillars and Lord Richard’s blood fountain,” several voices finished in unison.

“Poor Alan.” Archer sighed happily. “Our little sugar fang claims another victim. Though I hear the fountain needed remodeling anyway.”

They found Sebastian Blackthorn and his commanders, Edmund and James, waiting outside the inner chamber. The vampire noble’s usual aristocratic bearing seemed slightly disheveled, as if he’d spent the night buried in ancient scrolls.

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