The King Of All Vampire Kings (Book 1) ✔️

|19| ~War Plans ~

Claire Pov.
Edited.

She is not his beloved! I don't know why discovering that information sends a million and one butterflies spreading through my entire body. I shouldn't be that excited. It really shouldn't matter to me. Just because he hasn't claimed her as his beloved at the moment, it doesn't necessarily mean that he won't eventually. Maybe he's just taking it slow. He's the king. 

He can make his own rules, right? I really don't know, but it's strangely satisfying, really satisfying, to learn that he hasn't.

The kings enjoy their feast with no interruptions. The chosens and I are sitting with our heads down. We aren't allowed to eat with the kings. We just have to sit and watch them stuff their faces with all this amazing food.

I bet they wouldn't feed us at all if it wasn't for the fact that they need us to be healthy. Healthy, well-fed slaves mean a good blood supply and let's face it, vampires need to drink our blood, like how humans need to drink water. They can eat human food, but in order to survive, they need blood, healthy blood.

That's why it doesn't surprise me when the servants place salmon, avocado, and a glass of green tea in front of me. I'm honestly sick of this dish. Now don't get me wrong. The food is not bad. Actually, it's amazing. The zesty orange sauce is rich to the taste, and it's one of my favorite dishes. That's probably why I crush my meal in five points two seconds.

"I mean no disrespect," King Marcellus starts the conversation back up, after wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "But, you know I have a point. Europe holds a lot of lands. I can't afford to leave it unguarded."

"Save the shit, Marcellus," says King Rufus, slamming a knife down onto the table. "Asia has more territory than any other kingdom. We have marked and unmarked lands. With that being said, I'm still willing to go to war with those dogs."

"And so am I," says another king, with crystal blue eyes.

His face is covered with an ungroomed long golden beard. His hair, just as long and untamed as his beard, trails down his back. I realize that this is the first time he has spoken. He is the only king I haven't identified. I eliminate every other king's name I've heard from my mind, and I realize he is King Seneca of Africa, the violent and quick-witted king.

King Seneca picks up King Rufus's knife and plays with it.

"Africa is the second-largest territory," he speaks through clenched teeth, his voice low. "I will partake in the war. My governors can handle the lands without me. Those dogs will die. An attack on one king is an attack on all kings. We shall destroy each and everyone," he announces.

"Attack?" King Marcellus laughs out loud, bending over and tugging on his pet's chain in the process. "A pack of mutts freeing one group of transported humans is not an attack. We shouldn't leave the circling kingdoms unguarded for too long. They can have those humans!"

He pulls his pet roughly by her hair, causing her to release a small whimper. Her neck is bent to the side, and even my human ears can hear her heartbeat.

"We have their entire species. Why should we declare war?" His intense green eyes sparkle with mischief. "We are at the top of the food chain," he says, before plunging his fangs into her neck, and unlike Jasmine, his pet releases a high-pitched scream.

I flinch and shut my eyes. I can't watch this savage act. I try my hardest to tune out the pain in her voice as she begs and pleads for him to stop. For what seems like hours, her scream fills the air. It doesn't stop until her heartbeat does.

He has killed her.

I can hear the guards dragging her lifeless body away.

I open my eyes to be met by King Nicklaus's stormy‑cerulean orbs, watching me attentively, cautiously. He clearly expects me to react, offering myself up instead. If only it's that simple.