Night Hunt Ch. 17-18

Sam tried to pay attention to what her father was saying, but she was finding it hard to concentrate. Especially when she was attempting to discreetly observe Connor from the corner of her eye. Something had gotten him upset when he'd looked over at her, and although she shouldn't care, she did.

Also, it was hard to ignore Connor when he looked the way he did tonight. The whole time she'd been on her way to the ball, she'd tried not to think of him. She'd managed to convince herself that he wasn't coming, since he'd told her how much he hated these things. Yet somehow... somehow she hadn't managed to quell that little flutter of anticipation in her belly as she was getting ready tonight. As she'd put on her dress, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering to how Connor would react if he saw her.

Someone really cleaned up good when he tried. His blond hair was combed back, bringing more attention to his blue eyes. No woman could look at the man in a tuxedo and stay unaffected. It should be a crime that he looked that hot.

"Sämrhyn, are you listening?"

"Hm...? I mean yes, father." She tried to backtrack through the conversation, but she only drew a blank.

"Then you'll agree," her father said with an uptight smile-that-was-not-really-a-smile, "that Prince Darryk will be the perfect husband for you. Your marriage will be beneficial to both his father and I, not to mention that his bloodline is one of the few that's worthy of joining with ours. He's told me that you two dated briefly, and parted on amicable terms due to long distance. He's eager to start things up again if you come back to our realm. You've been gone long enough. It's time for you to come home."

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam snapped back to attention immediately.

"Sämrhyn my dear, you said that when the time came, you would come home and resume your duties. I think it's about time. Aren't you tired of being amongst the humans and their mundane lives? Our Elven realms have so much more to offer."

"No, rewind," Sam said, feeling a tightening in her chest. "Did you just say Prince Darryk and husband in the same sentence? Father, you can't be serious. The whole time I was with him, he treated me like his property. He wanted me to wear what he thought I looked good in, he decided where we went, and god forbid if I had an original thought in my head. Long distance my ass!"

Her father gave a defeated sigh. "Sämrhyn, when are you going to grow up? You're a Galäeodir. You should know better than to think marriage for us involves romance and true love. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

Sam shook her head. "That can't be true. You loved mother."

A faraway look crossed her father's eyes, the way it always did when someone mentioned her mother. "Our marriage was an arranged one, my dear. I never told you this, but I was in a relationship when the marriage was decided, and had to break it off to meet my duties. Your mother and I were strangers at first, but then we grew to love each other over time. You could too, with Prince Darryk. People can change, and we have centuries to do it."

"And if he never does? I'll be with him for all eternity! I can't do it." Sam said.

Her father's lips formed a grim line. "Why don't you come home with me, Sämrhyn, and we'll talk about this another time."

"I'm not ready to go back yet, Father," Sam protested, "I'm not even close to fifty years old! Besides, you've got my brothers with you. All seven of them! Nobody cares that I've left."

Her father looked back at her with sad eyes. "I care. I miss you, Sämrhyn. You've been away since you were a child. I want my daughter back."

Sam sighed. She wasn't sorry for wanting her life to be elsewhere, but she did feel bad for not spending more time with her father. "Give me a couple more decades, ok? And then I'll think about coming home. I promise I'll visit more often for now. I do miss you too, father, but I'm happy where I am."

"Very well. You know I want you to be happy, Sämrhyn," her father said finally. "Could you at least do one thing for me? Prince Darryk is walking over right now. Indulge me by giving him one dance. You never know, you might see things differently now."

"Fine," Sam muttered begrudgingly. "But don't expect anything."

Her father gave her a real smile this time. He pulled her into his arms for a quick hug, and she sank into it. She really did miss her family, even if she didn't want to move back in with them.

"One dance is all I ask, my dear." Her father said softly before he turned to go, giving Darryk a nod on his way.

"Princess Sämrhyn, would you do me this honour?"

Darryk was dressed up in full elven finery, the rich brocades and fine woven fabrics contrasting with the slim fit and weightless movement of his garments. Many women would have been knocked off their feet at the sight of the prince. Especially with his tall, wiry build, fair skin, dusky long brown hair, and golden eyes. Even without his looks, he knew how to charm anyone with a well-timed smile and twinkle of his eye.

Sam knew, because she had once fallen for those charms. Thankfully, she realised who the person behind those charms was after a few dates. She chose not to say anything, only held out her hand for him to bring to his lips, and then to gently steer them into their dance. She frowned when he pulled her close against him, closer than she was comfortable with.

"You are more beautiful than I remember, Princess. This dress of yours doesn't begin to do you justice," Darryk said as he led her into the footwork of a classical elven dance that matched the slow, seductive music, despite its remixed electronic base.

"You look well, Darryk," Sam replied with a warmth she didn't feel, drawing on everything she had learnt growing up in a royal household. "How is your family?"

"They're well," Darryk said as he gave her a twirl. "Sämrhyn, I'm not here to make small talk. I've made a bid to your father for your hand in marriage."

Sam would have tripped if Darryk hadn't pulled her back tightly against him just then.

"Cutting right to the chase then," Sam said when she'd recovered. "What did my father say?"

"He said he would talk to you first. Judging by that expression on your face, I'd say he wasn't very convincing. Really, Sämrhyn, do you honestly think a better offer will come your way? After those things you said to me the last time, you should know that you're very lucky I've chosen to set bygones aside."

Is he for real? "I haven't changed my mind about being with you," Sam said through clenched teeth, throwing away all efforts at being polite.

"Come on Sämrhyn," Darryk said as he pulled her close, his breath warm on her ear, "think of how handsome our offspring will be! Our children will be powerful too, with our two bloodlines. Think of the good that will come to our realms when our two kingdoms merge."

Sam tried to pull away but Darryk's grip around her waist was firm. She hissed angrily, "as if I would ever consider offspring with you. Let me go, Darryk."

Darryk's grip only tightened. "You think you have a choice in the matter. But you just wait and see. I have my ways, Princess. I always get what I want in the end, and I want you as my queen."

Cold, icy anger filled Sam at his words. Mentally, she began calculating the number of ways she could twist out of his grip and throw him to the ground. But she knew that causing a scene at the Primakov Ball would not deter Darryk. More likely, it would only make him more determined.

"Is he bothering you, Sam?"

Sam jolted at the sound of Connor's voice. What is he doing here?

"I'm okay, Connor," Sam said slowly, unsure of what new situation she'd just found herself in. She was aware of Darryk's curiosity at Connor's sudden appearance.

"Really Sämrhyn? A wolf? What company do you keep nowadays?" Darryk asked. His upper lip curled with disdain that he did not bother to hide.

"She can keep whatever company she wants," Connor said. Sam picked up the dangerous edge in his voice. "Sam, just say the word, and he's gone."

"I can handle this, Connor," Sam said quickly, aware of the growing aggression beneath the werewolf's skin. She needed to diffuse this situation, fast.

"Are you threatening me, Wolf? There is nothing to 'handle'. Princess Sämrhyn and I were just discussing our upcoming nuptials. Not that it's any of your business. Now run along," Darryk said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Sam noticed that Connor did not look surprised at her title. When did he find out? Tyrus must have told him. She didn't know why she cared, but she needed him to know that what Darryk said wasn't true. She pushed at Darryk and felt relief when he finally let her go.

"Will you stop, Darryk! I've made it clear that we won't be getting married," Sam said exasperatedly.

"Why? Because of him? My my Princess, you certainly have lowered your standards. Hard to believe you'd go from dating me, to this... dog," Darryk said.

"We're not dating. We're not.. anything. And I don't have to explain myself to you," Sam said.

"Why don't you leave Sam alone. It looks like she's had enough of your company," Connor said gruffly, stepping closer to her.

"Funny, Sämrhyn," Darryk said pointedly, deliberately speaking as if Connor wasn't there, "he seems to think he has some claim to you. But if memory serves, I've already laid claim to you. If you know what I mean."

"Alright that's it," Connor muttered.

Before Sam could register what was happening, Connor swung his fist, quicker than she had ever seen before. She winced as she heard it connect with Darryk's jaw. The elf prince let out a yelp as he hit the ballroom floor.

Several heads turned to see what had happened. For a second, nobody moved. Then Darryk was back on his feet and lunging for Connor.

"Stop it, both of you!" Sam shouted as Darryk aimed a punch at Connor. Connor dodged, but then Darryk shifted his weight and kicked Connor's feet out from under him. They both tumbled to the ground, landing punches as they went.

Sam looked around for help from the crowd, but it looked like most were content with just being spectators to the fight.

"What is going on?"

"Is that Prince Darryk? Wasn't he dancing with Princess Sämrhyn a second ago?"

"Hey isn't that Connor O'Callaghan? The Kavanaugh Alpha's son?"

O'Callaghan? Kavanaugh? But that's...

"It's the fucking elves and wolves at it again. Seriously? Just look at those wolves.. they're about to dive in. Way to ruin a party."

Sam darted her gaze up. Sure enough, four wolves were about ready to enter the skirmish. Across from them, five elves, including two of her brothers, were pushing their way towards the fight.

"That's enough!" Sam threw herself between the two males, nearly taking a hit before Darryk pulled back his fist in time.

They both stopped and stared at her in astonishment, chests heaving. They tried to resume their fight but she stayed between them, one hand on each male's chest to keep them apart.

"Sämrhyn! Are you alright? Get away from the wolf!" She heard her brother call out.

"It's fine, Aeril, I know him."

"Know him? Do you know what his family has done to us?" Aeril said in disbelief. He stepped forward, unsheathing his sword as he did so. In a flash, he had the tip pointing at Connor's throat.

"What my family has done to you? How about what your family has done to mine?" Connor spat out, disregarding the sword completely.

"Can everybody please just calm down?" Sam said in exasperation.

"Calm down, sister? You will explain what you're doing with Connor O'Callaghan," Aeril said.

Sam looked at Connor for any denial of his name, but he just stood there, eyes blazing their icy blue.

"I didn't know who his family was until now. He's not from the Kavanaugh pack anymore. Lower your sword, Aeril. He won't harm me," Sam said, trying to gather her thoughts. Tyrus had mentioned Connor's pack once, but it hadn't been his father's pack, or she'd have remembered. It occurred to her that she'd never once heard his last name being mentioned, and had never cared to ask.

Darryk placed his hand over hers, and Sam realised that she still hadn't removed it from his chest.

"Sämrhyn my dear, it's obvious this wolf has been deceiving you all this while. Why don't you come away with me and we continue our discussion in private?"

Connor growled in response. "I had no idea who she was until ten minutes ago. Sam, it looks like we need to talk. Away from him."

Sam stood between the two males, aware that many eyes were focused on her, awaiting her next move. Connor and Darryk bristled with tension, waiting.

"Fucking hell," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "I don't need this drama. You two need to get over yourselves."

With that, she turned and stalked out of the ballroom.

****

Anya walked alongside Tyrus as they navigated the palace's twists and turns, led by the vampire who King Primakov had sent to get them. She was sure the two vampires could hear her heart thudding in her chest. They moved in silence, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors the only sound around them.

Anya had never been inside a palace before last night. As she took in the finery of each room and corridor they walked through, she could scarcely believe that it was happening. Finally, they stopped in front of two large double doors.

"Wait here," the vampire instructed and went inside. She popped out a minute later and did a sort of nod and bow.

"Come in," she said before opening the door and ushering them in.

Anya felt the reassuring grip of Tyrus' hand over hers as they walked into the room together. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but what she saw certainly wasn't it.

They were in a lounge room with a large sitting area composed of modern furniture. Beautiful art and decorating touches gave the place a warm and inviting feel. Seated on a settee facing them was a young man who could easily pass for her brother. In front of him was a candle on the table with a brilliant blue flame.

The man stood to greet them, and Anya had the overwhelming urge to kneel before him. She couldn't tell what it was, but he had the kind of aura that commanded respect from everyone in the room. His eyes settled on her and she held in a gasp.

No matter how young he looked, she knew at once that he was ancient. Not old. Ancient like he had been around for millennia and seen things she could never even dream of.

He lifted a finger to his lips in a silencing motion. In one deft move he turned and blew over the candle. Instead of being extinguished, the flame flared brighter. An opaque, misty blue smoke rose up and encircled them, until the three of them were covered in a dome. She could see everything within the dome, but could not see outside of it. She was willing to bet that nobody could see or hear them from outside the smoke dome.

"Daughter," King Primakov finally said.

The word sank over Anya, sending a wave of warmth through her. A knot in her stomach unfolded. She looked into her father's eyes and saw emotion in them.

Cautiously, she stepped forward, releasing Tyrus' hand to move closer to her father. He moved towards her too, equally cautiously, and she wondered how someone as powerful and ancient as him could be so tentative around her.

"Father?" She asked, her voice wavering.

He nodded, a single tear streaming down his face. He didn't seem embarrassed, only continuing his path towards her.

"Anya, you've grown into such a beautiful woman. You look so much like your mother."

He reached her and at that moment, it was the most natural thing in the world for her to step into his embrace. She felt his arms wrap tightly around hers as she did the same.

So this is what it feels like, Anya thought.

The moment was so surreal, she could have sworn she was floating above the room, observing herself. Watching her own reunion with her father after a lifetime of not knowing him. Her face felt wet, and it was only then that she realised she'd been crying.

Her father pulled back from their hug to look at her, and Anya took the moment to study his face. He was a complete stranger to her, yet he looked like her. She had his nose, and the same coloured eyes. The corners of his lips turned in the same way as hers when they smiled.

"I never thought I'd ever meet you," Anya said, feeling suddenly shy.

Her father turned to Tyrus and beamed. "Thank you, Tyrus, for giving us this moment. I had resigned myself to never holding my daughter in my arms again."

"I wish I could have brought her under better circumstances, your majesty," Tyrus said quietly.

"Anya was never safe to begin with," her father said. "All I wanted was to give her the best chance at living outside of our crazy world. But I understand from Lara that she would have gone to Le Bastille even if she'd never met you. And you saved her life. I am in your debt, Tyrus."

Tyrus shook his head. "You do not owe me anything, your majesty. I regret my part to play in putting her in danger. She's here now, and that's all that matters."

Her father turned back to her. "Your mother and I had so much joy, waiting for you to come into this world. I only wish she could see you now. She held you, you know, just before she... well. I had never seen so much happiness on her face as I had that day."

"If you would like, Anya, please extend your stay here with Tyrus. We'll continue with the story that Tyrus is here working for me. I'd like to get to know you."

Since childhood, Anya had imagined what it would be like to reunite with her parents one day. To hear that they loved her and hadn't wanted to leave her at the orphanage, and that they wanted her back in their lives. It had been a cruel dream, because she'd always grown more and more certain with each passing year that it would never happen.

But now, it seemed that it was coming true. Her father really did love her, and he really did want to get to know her. As an adult now, she knew that things wouldn't be perfect. Her father was a vampire king, and she still had her abandonment issues. Surely they wouldn't always get along. But this was still more than she had ever hoped for.

Anya looked to Tyrus, who nodded. She turned back to her father and smiled. "Sure, I'd love to stay."

Her father beamed at her reply. He opened his mouth to speak again but there was a sudden ripping sound, and the dome of smoke dissipated in sudden burst of blue ash.

"Your Majesty! I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't wait." The vampire who had led them to the room was frantically trailing behind a tall, broad shouldered man in a tailored suit. A large male stood at the edge of where the smoke dome had been, fangs out and eyes glowing yellow.

Tyres moved so he was between Anya and the intruder.

"King Primakov, just the person I was looking for. I seek an audience with you, your Majesty," the vampire said with a slight bow.

"What is so urgent that you had to interrupt my meeting? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a private matter?" Anya's father replied in a clipped tone.

His fangs weren't out, yet it felt as though he could tear the throat out of the vampire in front of him at any moment. The vampire didn't look the least bit deterred.

"My name's Sylvester Black. I've been trying to arrange an audience with you for weeks. Your people wouldn't let me through to you. This was the only way for me to speak with you, Majesty," the vampire said.

"Whatever you had to say must not have been very important then," the King said, already starting to turn his body away.

"Oh, but it is. You see your Majesty, I have a proposal to make. And I will go ahead with my plan whether you wish to join me or not," the vampire said with a sly smile.