Page 23

I slammed my bedroom door and slid down against it, my face burning hotter than a vampire in direct sunlight. Which, technically, wasn’t even a thing in this real vampire life, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to care about accurate supernatural metaphors right now.

“Oh God,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I bit Ryker. I actually bit Ryker .”

My fangs tingled at the memory, and my traitorous body remembered exactly how it felt to sink them into his throat.

The rush of power, the intoxicating taste that was nothing like the polite blood bags with their cute little straws.

Ryker’s blood had tasted like lightning and winter storms, like raw power wrapped in smooth darkness.

Just like Zane’s blood had tasted like midnight and starlight that first morning in the garden. Two completely different flavors, but both had sent that same electric pleasure rushing through my veins, turning my bones to honey and my brain to mush.

“This is getting ridiculous,” I muttered to my reflection in the window. “First I use Zane as a juice box, now Ryker? What’s next, a brother-blood taste testing event?”

You haven’t tried Archer yet , my inner vampire pointed out helpfully. I bet he tastes like ? —

“NO!” I smacked my cheeks. “Bad vampire prince. No thinking about how perfect your adopted brothers’ throats felt under your fangs. Or how their hands tightened when you bit them or the way they both growled —STOP IT!”

But my mind helpfully supplied a highlight reel anyway. Zane’s hands cradling my head in the garden, Ryker’s grip on my waist by the koi pond. At this rate, I was going to run out of brothers to accidentally bite.

A soft knock at the door made me jump.

“Prince Luca?” Benedict’s voice was gentle. “I’ve brought your lunch, and the tablets you left in the garden.”

Left was a polite way of saying ‘abandoned in my mad dash to escape after using my adopted brother as a snack.’ But Benedict was too proper to phrase it that way.

“Coming!” I scrambled to my feet, trying to compose myself into something resembling a proper vampire prince rather than a flustered mess who kept treating his brothers like a supernatural juice bar.

Benedict stood in the hallway with a silver tray, his expression carefully neutral. But I caught the slight twitch of his lips that suggested he knew exactly why I’d fled the garden.

“Your tablets, Prince,” he said, presenting the devices I’d completely forgotten in my escape. “And a selection of blood types for lunch.”

I could have hugged him. “Benedict, you’re an angel.”

“Not at all, Prince. Though I did add your lavender straws.” He set the tray on my desk. “If I may, Prince Luca, such… incidents are quite normal for young vampires coming into their power. You are, after all, only twenty-one years old.”

I blinked at him. “Normal? There’s nothing normal about accidentally snacking on your adopted brothers!”

“Actually, Prince…” Benedict’s eyes sparkled with carefully contained amusement. “The library has several volumes on vampire maturation. Including one specifically about power manifestation and feeding urges.”

“Oh God,” I groaned, collapsing into my chair. “You mean there are actual books about this? Please tell me there isn’t a manual on proper neck-biting protocol.”

“The books are quite… comprehensive, Prince. Though perhaps less focused on siblings specifically.” He paused delicately. “Would you like me to bring you the beginner’s guide? There’s an interesting chapter on the difference between feeding and… other forms of biting.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow and buried my face in it. “Even you’re teasing me about this!”

“Never, Prince Luca. I’m merely ensuring you have all the resources needed for your… developmental phase.”

“Thank you, Benedict,” I mumbled through the pillow, hoping he’d take the hint and leave me to wallow in my mortification.

Once the door clicked shut, I peeked at the tablets on my desk. Right. Work. I could do this. Just focus on the marketing plans and definitely not think about how Ryker’s blood had tasted like bottled lightning or how Zane’s midnight and starlight essence still lingered in my memory.

I pulled up the presentation draft, determined to be productive. The Beyond Beauty campaign needed a fresh supernatural angle, something that captured the ethereal grace of?—

Like how gracefully Ryker tilted his head, offering his throat?

“Stop it!” I smacked my cheeks again. The lavender straw in my blood bag waggled accusingly as I sipped. “Focus. Marketing. Supernatural beauty. Not brother-flavored taste tests.”

But every time I tried to write about supernatural luminescence, my brain helpfully supplied images of sunlight playing across Zane’s throat or how Ryker’s skin had practically glowed in the garden.

And don’t even get me started on their scents.

Rich musk and amber mixing with warm spice and bergamot…

it was like living in a supernatural cologne commercial.

And you haven’t even sampled Archer’s citrus and sunshine blend yet , my inner vampire purred.

I groaned, face-planting into my tablet screen. The document now displayed a string of gibberish where my face had smashed the digital keyboard.

Three hours and two blood bags later, I’d managed to outline most of the campaign despite my traitorous brain’s constant brother-related interruptions. The sound of footsteps announced Sylvie and Hunter’s return from school just as I was finishing up the presentation’s color scheme.

“Luca!” Sylvie burst into my room, her school uniform still pristine despite the long day. “Are you ready for our shopping trip? Oh my God, you’re going to love the new boutique wing!”

I blinked at her enthusiasm, but before I could respond, Benedict breezed past us both and into my walk-in closet. The sound of hangers sliding across rails filled the air.

“Um, Benedict?” I called out. “What are you doing?”

“Selecting appropriate attire for your outing, Prince,” came his matter-of-fact reply.

“But we’re just going shopping,” I protested.

Sylvie giggled, dropping her schoolbag by my desk. “Oh, Luca. We’re Whitlocks . We don’t just ‘go shopping’ in regular clothes. Especially not at the Crystal Palace Mall.”

“The lavender silk, I think.” Benedict emerged with a floating parade of designer outfits. “Or perhaps the silver and purple ensemble? Both would suit a casual afternoon appearance while maintaining the proper image.”

“Proper image?” I squeaked. “Since when does shopping require an image consultant?”

“Since you’re the Whitlock prince.” Sylvie grinned, already eyeing the outfits. “Trust me, everyone will be watching. The mysterious vampire prince finally emerging from his tower? It’s going to be the talk of the town!”

I stared at the silver and purple ensemble Benedict held up.

It was beautiful, the soft lavender shirt paired with tailored black pants that had subtle purple accents.

And if I was being honest with myself, part of me—probably the part that had spent years watching anime—was thrilled at the idea of dressing up like a real prince.

“That one,” I said, surprising myself with how firm my voice sounded. If I had to make my debut in supernatural society, I might as well do it properly. “But can we do something with my hair? Something… nice?”

Benedict’s eyes softened with approval. “I was thinking a casual style with some product to enhance your natural waves, Prince. To complement the outfit’s elegance.”

“Perfect!” Sylvie clapped her hands. “And those silver accent boots, they’d be amazing with this.”

I thought about protesting the shoes but found myself nodding instead. A tiny spark of excitement flickered in my chest, pushing back against the nervous butterflies.

An hour later, I barely recognized the prince in my mirror.

The lavender silk shirt draped perfectly, the silver accents catching light with every movement.

The tailored pants fit like they were made for me (which, I realized, they probably were), and the boots added just enough height to make me feel less tiny next to my towering adopted family.

Benedict had styled my hair in soft waves that framed my face, making my lavender eyes seem even more vibrant.

“You look perfect!” Sylvie twirled beside me in her own transformation—a soft blue dress that made her look like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale, her golden curls styled in an intricate crown braid. “We’re going to cause such a stir!”

“Are you guys done yet?” Hunter’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Some of us would like to hit the gaming center before we’re elderly!”

“Beauty takes time, little brother!” Sylvie called back, adjusting her silver earrings.

“Yeah, well, Uncle Archer’s waiting, and he says if we don’t leave soon, the afternoon traffic’s going to be?—”

“Relax, kid.” Archer’s familiar citrus and sunshine scent drifted closer. “Let the prince and princess have their moment. Though I have to say…” He appeared in the doorway, his usual playful grin softening into something almost gentle as he took in our appearances. “It’s worth the wait.”

I felt my cheeks warm at his praise, my styled hair shifting slightly as I ducked my head.

“Now.” Archer’s grin turned mischievous. “Shall we go show New Vale what the Whitlock princes and princess look like when they’re not hiding in their tower?”

The penthouse elevator opened directly into the private garage level, where Harrison stood waiting beside what had to be the most luxurious car I’d ever seen. The sleek black vehicle gleamed under the lights, its silver wolf emblem catching the glow.

“Your car, young masters.” Harrison bowed slightly as our driver, his name tag read Thomas, opened the rear door.

I hesitated at the sight of the interior. The back was arranged like a private lounge, with facing leather seats in cream and burgundy. Hunter immediately claimed one side, sprawling across it with his gaming device already in hand.