The vampire king's forbidden queen

The first thing my father did on my twenty-first birthday was burn my pancakes.

Again.

I stared at the blackened stack on the plate.

Then I looked at him.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Dad looked offended. “They're not burned.”

I picked one up between two fingers.

It was completely black.

“Then what exactly is this?”

“A well-done pancake.”

“Dad.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “Maybe the pan was too hot.”

I laughed despite myself.

“You're terrible at this.”

“I've raised you for twenty-one years. I can handle one pancake.”

“Apparently not.”

He pointed the spatula at me. “You woke up determined to insult me today.”

“You're the one who made me breakfast.”

“Exactly. Show some gratitude.”

I walked around the kitchen island and wrapped my arms around him.

“Thank you.”

His expression softened.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

It had always been just the two of us.

My mother died before I was born, so I had grown up knowing her only through stories.

Her name was Mirelle.

She had been twenty-five.

She loved music, hated cold weather, and apparently stole blankets whenever she slept.

That was almost everything I knew.

Dad rarely talked about the accident unless I asked, and even then, he never gave me more details than I needed.

I had never complained.

He had given me enough love to make up for everything I'd lost.

“You're twenty-one,” he said suddenly.

I pulled away.

“Unfortunately.”

He laughed.

“Most girls are excited about turning twenty-one.”

“Most girls don't have you as their father.”

“What's wrong with me?”

“You're embarrassing.”

“I am an excellent father.”

“You burned my birthday breakfast.”

“One mistake.”

“Three.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Do you want your present?”

I immediately straightened.

“Yes.”

He shook his head, laughing.

“You're impossible.”

“You raised me.”

“Unfortunately.”

I gasped.

“You stole my line.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a small velvet box.

My smile disappeared.

“Dad…”

“Open it.”

I took the box carefully.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace with a tiny crescent moon pendant.

I touched it gently.

“It's beautiful.”

“It belonged to your mother.”

My fingers stopped.

I looked up.

“Mom?”

He nodded.

“She wore it all the time.”

I swallowed.

“Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“She’s been gone for twenty-one years, Sera.”

His voice softened.

“It's time you had something that belonged to her.”

I closed my fingers around the pendant.

“Thank you.”

He smiled.

“Happy birthday.”

I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

For the rest of the morning, everything felt normal.

Almost perfect.

Until I left the house.

The strange feeling started on the drive into town.

At first, I couldn't explain it.

I simply felt watched.

I checked the rearview mirror.

Nothing.

A few cars.

A delivery truck.

A woman walking her dog.

Nothing unusual.

I shook my head and continued driving.

Maybe I was imagining things.

Twenty-one felt strange.

Like standing at the edge of something I couldn't see.

I parked outside my favorite coffee shop.

The moment my feet touched the pavement, I felt it again.

Someone was watching me.

I turned.

A black car was parked across the street.

Its windows were tinted.

I couldn't see inside.

I stared at it for several seconds.

Then it drove away.

“Okay…”

I walked into the coffee shop.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting by the window with my favorite drink when someone took the seat opposite me.

I looked up.

My heart stopped.

The man sitting across from me was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

And somehow, that wasn't even the strangest thing about him.

He looked completely out of place.

Black suit.

Dark hair.

Pale skin.

Sharp jaw.

Eyes so dark they almost looked black.

He didn't look like someone who belonged in a crowded coffee shop.

He looked like someone who belonged in a painting.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

His eyes remained fixed on me.

“Waiting for you.”

I frowned.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“Then that's creepy.”

He didn't react.

Not even a smile.

“What's your name?”

“Sera.”

Something changed in his expression.

Barely.

But I noticed.

“Sera,” he repeated quietly.

The way he said my name sent a strange chill down my spine.

“And yours?”

“Lucien.”

“Okay, Lucien. How exactly were you waiting for someone you don't know?”

“I knew you'd come here.”

“How?”

He didn't answer.

Instead, his gaze dropped to my necklace.

His entire expression changed.

His eyes widened slightly.

“Where did you get that?”

I instinctively touched the pendant.

“My father gave it to me.”

“Your father?”

“Yes.”

“Who is your father?”

I stared at him.

“That's a very personal question.”

“Answer me.”

I put my cup down.

“Excuse me?”

He leaned slightly closer.

“What is your mother's name?”

My stomach tightened.

“Why?”

“Her name.”

I should have walked away.

Instead, I answered.

“Mirelle.”

Lucien went completely still.

For the first time since he sat down, something resembling shock crossed his face.

He whispered the name.

“Mirelle.”

I stared at him.

“You know my mother?”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Then how do you know her name?”

“I don't.”

“That makes no sense.”

He stood.

I looked up at him.

“Wait.”

He didn't move.

“Why did you come here?”

His eyes met mine.

And for the first time, I saw something that looked almost like fear.

Not fear of me.

Fear of what I was.

“You shouldn't be here.”

“What?”

His voice dropped.

“You have no idea what you're carrying.”

I laughed nervously.

“What does that even mean?”

He stared at me.

Then he said the words that changed my life forever.

“You're carrying my blood.”

I stopped breathing.

“What?”

“Your blood.”

He looked toward the window.

His expression suddenly became cold.

“Someone else has noticed it.”

I followed his gaze.

There was nothing outside.

When I looked back at him, he was already walking away.

“Lucien!”

He didn't stop.

I pushed away from the table.

“Wait!”

He disappeared through the door.

I ran outside.

The street was empty.

No black car.

No Lucien.

Nothing.

I stood there, confused and angry.

Then something moved behind me.

I turned.

A man stood at the end of the street.

His eyes were glowing red.

He smiled.

And when he opened his mouth, I saw the fangs.

I couldn't scream.

Because suddenly, I understood.

The man in the coffee shop hadn't been crazy.

He had been warning me.

And whatever was coming for me had already found me.

The man at the end of the street smiled.

I couldn't move.

Everything inside me screamed to run, but my feet seemed rooted to the pavement.

He took one step toward me.

Then another.

His eyes were red.

Red.

And when he smiled again, two sharp fangs appeared beneath his upper lip.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"No."

The word barely came out.

The man tilted his head.

"You're Sera."

It wasn't a question.

I stepped backward.

"Stay away from me."

He smiled wider.

"I've been looking for you."

I turned toward the coffee shop. People were still inside, laughing and talking, completely unaware of what was happening outside.

I grabbed the door handle.

It didn't move.

Locked.

I pulled again.

Nothing.

When I looked back, the man was much closer.

He couldn't have crossed that distance that quickly.

"What do you want?"

"You."

My