When the vampire lord Ivan Rosenthal had asked Rowan Marlowe if he would be prepared for anything the Rosenthal children had to throw at him, Rowan was not expecting half the things the second-youngest, Julien, had up his sleeves—or in this case, on his bare wrists. 

This had been one of Julien’s tamer bed buddies, as Julien coined, indulging in the ropes and feathers over Julien’s pale form. The play lasted only an hour, but it was an agonizing hour. Rowan had to stand and watch with a stoic face as the moans of pleasure, and the scent of enticing B+ blood filled the air. Julien’s mortal partner was Rowan’s preferred blood type of choice, and Julien knew that; another one of his ploys for Rowan to break his steel resolve. Rowan knew better than to give in, keeping himself busy with the task at hand, loosening the knots of the overused ropes that connected Julien to the bedpost. They were unbearably taut, so much that Rowan feared he’d have to cut Julien’s favorite rope.

Rowan resisted the urge to leave him there for added amusement, but vampires were not immune to the discomfort of limbs being held in such positions, and Rowan was no sadist. Julien would’ve teased him endlessly if Rowan had left the knots, insisting that Julien was right to assume Rowan found Julien interesting. 

Rowan did find him interesting; interestingly, the strangest and most challenging task Ivan Rosenthal had asked of him since he’s been a guard to the clan. Ever since he agreed to become Julien’s bodyguard twenty-five years ago, it was clear this task was the biggest ask anyone had ever asked of him. But there was no turning down an offer from one of the most powerful vampires in the country, especially when Rowan owed his life to the Rosenthals. 

Julien groaned as the ropes finally loosened enough for him to slide his slender wrists from its restraint. He looked to his bodyguard before gesturing to the man half-atop on him. “Get him off of me first.”

Rowan clenched his jaw in response before shoving the unconscious mortal off of the tenth prince. Julien was well adept at handling the body himself but refused to do so, ready to use his bound aching wrists as an excuse. For added suffering, Julien stretched his back, the thin satin sheet slipping lower to expose more of his naked form. 

“I’m glad you’ve managed to contain yourself from draining the mortal dry.”

Julien rolled his eyes. “You know I despise his blood type; I was already on the verge of gagging. Though, I probably should have drained him, given how inexhaustibly boring he was. A feather? Who does he think he is?”

“A mortal,” Rowan said dryly. “He values his life more than he does satisfying your urges.”

Julien scoffed. “Urges? That’s all this is?”

“Is it not?”

“It’s a necessity, Rowan. While you may not fancy the high of sex and feeding, normal vampires like myself do. Aroused blood is the most delectable; that’s not negotiable.”

Rowan bit his tongue. It shouldn’t have irked him the way he implied his lack of bloodlust was abnormal, especially with how many times Julien teased him for it over the past two decades, but it was still a bitter truth Rowan wished to bury. 

A vampire that hated drinking blood was like a vegetarian lion; it went everything against his nature. 

“At least try to enjoy a feeding on your own,” Julien said, sitting up from the bed, then stared at the snoozing man beside him. “Even a little sip? Probably another pint out of him won’t kill him.”

Rowan didn’t bother, instead turning on his heel to retrieve Julien’s clothes from the dresser. Usually, a servant would dress the prince, but they hardly ever entered the prince’s chambers without their permission. Rowan insisted it was for the servant’s safety—physical and psychological; the last few servants had fainted after Julien’s nights with his bed buddies. 

“Get dressed,” was Rowan’s curt response. “Your father requested your presence.”

Julien rolled his eyes, taking the clothes begrudgingly before pulling the covers back, successfully flashing his guard as he hopped off the bed. He took great pride in watching Rowan attempt to avert his gaze; resisting the urge to tease him was difficult. 

“What does he want now? My siblings can entertain him.”

“I was told it pertains to all of you,” Rowan said. 

Julien groaned; family meetings were always such a tiresome ordeal, especially when it never really mattered to him as one of the youngest. When it came to politics, land rights, power, etc., it all fell on his eight older siblings anyway. As Rowan remarked often, Julien, and the youngest by a few days, Felix, hardly had any jurisdiction in the “adult” conversations. 

Of course, they were all adults, but Julien was five years shy of being considered a mature vampire. At only 115, Julien was nowhere near ready to take control of territory like his older siblings. His experiences and training were subpar to his siblings, who had centuries more experience than him. Julien’s coercion powers were his greatest weapon if he could only curb his sexual and bloody appetite.

Julien dressed, not bothering to hide his naked form—there was little he could hide from his guard at this point. Rowan didn’t say anything, as he usually did, only moving toward the bedroom door to open it for the prince.

“Maggie,” Julien greeted the servant girl, bowing dramatically as he stepped out of his room. She trembled in his presence, holding a serving tray with a selection of fruits and pastries. “Ah, did Lucy send you?”

Maggie nodded, holding the plate nearly above her head. Rowan almost felt bad for her. She was a young mortal, most likely from a poor background like Rowan, just looking for any odd job she could hold. She clearly hadn’t expected such an eccentric prince to serve. 

Julien took an apple slice from the tray before handing a pastry tart to Rowan. Though Rowan knew he shouldn’t indulge in such sweet things, he swiftly picked it up, stuffing it into his mouth as Julien savored the apple. Lucy was always looking out for her siblings. As one of the middle children, and oldest sister, she was like a mother figure to the younger ones. Their birth mother, Valentine, was still around, but it wasn’t unusual for her to be distant or busy attending to Rosenthal matters along with Ivan. 

The small daily breakfast platters were just one of Lucy’s pleasantries. She made it clear that her siblings deserved special treatment, which extended to Rowan and Felix’s guard, Jean. Once she had caught wind of Rowan’s sweet tooth, Lucy insisted on keeping a handful of sweets and fruits on their breakfast platters, something Julien found great pleasure in teasing him over.

“Maybe she likes you,” Julien teased. “Always giving you the good stuff while I get an apple.”

Rowan rolled his eyes before turning to Maggie. “Fetch someone to send the man back home,” he told her. “Information is on the table.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Rowan didn’t correct her; he didn’t fancy being regarded as higher than her, even if it were true. He was still an employee of the Rosenthal family, just as she was. Julian was already a few steps ahead of Rowan, but it was easy to close the gap. 

Julian glanced back at the servant girl who remained at his door. “Or Maggie? How about her?”

“She is a mortal.”

“So? You two would make cute dhampir babies.” Rowan’s jaw ticked, earning a satisfied smile from Julien. “Oh, come on; when was the last time you got laid?”

“Enough.”

 Julien crossed his arms, sending his guard a pointed look. “Stingy today; did you not have your blood bag?”

“Somebody insisted on keeping me up; I needed to make sure you didn’t murder a man last night. So no, no blood bag.”

“There’s a stash in my room.” Julien rolled his eyes. “You know where they are.”

Rowan huffed. “I prefer to feed alone.”

“Fucking weird. Maybe you aren’t a vampire after all,” Julien teased, holding his arms up with a shocked expression. “Wouldn’t that just be rich from Ivan; having a mortal be my guard.”

Rowan didn’t say anything, leading the way to the throne room, only glancing back once or twice to ensure the prince was following him. Rowan had learned early into his job that Julien liked to wander like a toddler.

In the throne room, the Rosenthal children stood before Ivan and Valentine. Rowan took his place beside the other guard, Jean, standing on the outskirts of the room. The other castle guards flanked the side, all led by the lord and lady’s guards, Lance and Constance. 

Both were intimidating vampires alone, trained and refined by Ivan himself. Nobody could out-best them in weapons, coercion, or brute strength. It was clear with them at the lord’s side that nobody could touch them. 

Ivan was more formidable than the two of them combined. 

“As you know, the Coalition aims to take us all down. Every last one of our clans. The Rosenthals have been a beacon of peace for centuries; they will not stop us. I expect every one of you to take charge of your territories and increase measures to protect the mortal’s safety, along with the other creatures, in case they, too, seem to want to tackle us.”

Mikhail turned to address the others. As the firstborn son, nearly four hundred years over Julien, he was slated to take over the Rosenthal clan. He had years of experience leading one of the larger territories but lacked much of the confidence his other siblings had. It was why Laurent, the third son, often stood beside him, filling in for whenever Mikhail couldn’t. “Though the mortals founded the Coalition, it’s rumored many dhampirs and other creatures lurk in their ranks. They are ruthless, cunning, and not to be underestimated.”

Laurent cleared his throat. “I’ve heard rumors up north that they’ve weaponized dhampir’s blood. Though I’ve yet to confirm it, we must be vigilant. They will most likely target our smaller territories first. Warn the vampires in the area first, then provide protections for the humans that are known to be loyal. Keep the panic to a minimum if all possible.”

“How does this affect us?” Julien crossed his arms, tilting his head toward Felix.

Laurent frowned. “They will likely target you or Felix first. Remain vigilant here in the castle. They may likely attack the castle directly if the Coalition has dhampirs in their ranks. They can easily blend in as a mortal. Be wary of anything suspicious.”

The fifth son, Solomon, sneered at Julien, distaste clearly written on his face. He never liked Julien or Rowan and wasn’t keen on talking to Felix and Jean either. Some complex, according to Lucy and the twins. Jean gritted his teeth beside Rowan, annoyed at his antics. “That’s if he hasn’t slept with half the Coalition already.”

Julien didn’t seem bothered by the accusation, instead glancing around the room. “Shouldn’t we be worried about his territory? Solomon’s territory is the smallest and near the Coalition’s base.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. I can handle my territory just fine.”

“And that’s why dad gave you the smallest and least populated one?”

Solomon stepped forward, his face scrunched up in rage as he went for Julien’s throat. Rowan only made it two steps before Jean pulled him back, directing their gaze to Ivan.

Ivan raised a hand to stop them, his eyes turning a rich purple hue. Solomon’s hand dropped to his side without a word and returned to Lucy and Virion, the fourth son. 

It was a reminder never to cross Ivan Rosenthal. His coercion skills were unmatched, so much that he didn’t need to even say a command for it to work, even on a vampire of Solomon’s age. It wasn’t just coercion either; his physical strength and swordsmanship were unparalleled. 

Once his eyes returned to their natural brown hue, Ivan stood from his throne, taking a few steps toward his children. “Enough,” he said, despite the silent order being well enough to prevent them from acting out again. “I expect each and every one of you to report to me directly if anything is amiss. Any threat must be reported.”

Though he didn’t say it, the or else was heavily implied. 

“Yes, father,” was Alexander’s response. Despite being the seventh child, Alex was known for looking up to Ivan, always attempting to appease him and be the perfect son. Julien mused he liked to kiss ass, but Rowan admired his drive. 

The others followed Alexander’s response, nodding or verbally agreeing. 

“Good,” Ivan said. “You’re dismissed.”

Solomon was first to storm out, shoving the doors wide open like an angry toddler while Lucy went after him. Mikhail and Laurent loitered for a moment to discuss something while the twins and other older siblings followed Solomon and Lucy. Rowan and Jean followed a few yards behind the youngest until Ivan cleared his throat. “Marlowe, a word.”

Rowan halted in his tracks, dread and fear trailing down his back. Ivan hadn’t coerced him to stay, but the words alone were enough to keep Rowan from wanting to find out what Solomon felt. Jean spared him a pitying glance while Julien raised a brow, staring back at his guard as the doors to the throne room slowly shut. 

Whatever Ivan Rosenthal had planned to say, it was clear that he didn’t intend for Julien to be present; Rowan wasn’t sure to be concerned or relieved.