Bhric sipped his bourbon, wondering how the fuck he got to this point. Nothing in his life was going as planned. Then again, he knew better than most that it rarely did.

His parents were brutally murdered when he was a toddler, and he was raised by an unprepared older brother. Zander had no idea how to parent a child, much less three, or assume the role of king, yet he was forced to do both on the same night.

Bhric’s latest behavior wasn’t a big deal, considering what he put his brother through when he was a stripling. He’d done far worse things than imbibing alcohol then driving a vehicle.

When Bhric was thirteen, he recalled going off on his own and sneaking into a human camp full of soldiers. He pretended to be one of them. The sword fit like a glove to his hand, and he relished the fights he participated in before Zander came in and yanked him away by the hair of his head.

Lectures from his brother followed about being vulnerable because he hadn’t transitioned, and the dangers of exposing their existence to humans. Now, over seven hundred years later, Zander was pissed because Bhric enjoyed drinking more than the rest of them? What a joke. It was the only way he knew to calm down, and forget some of the shit rattling around in his skull.

He was a grown-ass vampire, possessing the ability to heal from nearly anything, for fucks sake. He didn’t need a babysitter.

Agitation built as Bhric sat there, contemplating the unfairness of the situation. He should be at Zeum, spending time with his family, or, gearing up for nightly patrols around Seattle. He’d been a Dark Warrior most of his life, and the vows he made to the Goddess, to protect humans and the citizens of the Tehrex Realm from Lucifer’s minions, were all he knew.

If he couldn’t be out on the streets killing skirm, he’d settle for playing a stupid game with Pepper and Dipple, Bhric thought and chuckled when he envisioned the pesky gnomes. They’d grown on the staff since arriving at the compound and had become part of their motley crew.

Unfortunately, none of that was an option. Zander and Breslin were furious with him for his excessive drinking, and Zander had banned him from patrols, so the last place he wanted to go was home. If they didn’t want him around, fuck ‘em.

Okay, that was a complete lie. His siblings were all he had, and their dismissal cut through his heart and left him bleeding inside. The sad truth was that was the least of his worries.

Seemed Fate had a grudge against him. Not only had She denied him any real parental figure as a stripling, his adult life was fucked, as well. He glanced at the screen of his cell phone, and was reminded why. Ten missed calls and a dozen unanswered text messages from Pasha. The bitch needed to leave it the fuck alone. He had nothing to say to her, yet, she was hell-bent on making his life a living nightmare.

Luckily, it wouldn’t be much longer before the whole mess resolved. Bhric sent a silent prayer to the Goddess that the results of the paternity test went in his favor. He couldn’t be the child’s father. If he was, his life would forever be ruined.

Bhric took another swig. His family and friends had no idea what Pasha’s incessant threats were doing to his sanity. The female was pregnant, swearing it was his, and demanded they get mated. Unfortunately, paternity tests for supernaturals were highly invasive and put the baby’s life at risk, which Bhric wasn’t willing to do. There was a small chance it was his, and if that were the case, he would do right by the child.

The thought of defaming his family name by refusing to mate the stripling’s mother had his stomach churning, and his heart racing. Integrity demanded that he take Pasha and the child as his, despite that he had no desire to mate someone that wasn’t his Fated Mate. There was also the fact that Bhric didn’t love Pasha. Bhric enjoyed female companionship, but not once had it been more than casual sex between them.

The bartender walked over and laid a bill by his empty drink. “I’ll take that when you’re ready,” the tall, lanky male offered.

“I wasna finished. I’ll have another. In fact, make it a double,” Bhric countered and picked up his glass, shaking it.

The clinking of ice was music to his soul, and his palms itched to shoot shards of ice at the bartender’s face for not offering him another round.

“No can do, bro. We have a maximum here, and you’ve met yours. Sorry. House rules,” the male spouted as he poured a beer for a nearby patron.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know who I am?” Bhric retorted as he leaned forward and stared at the human.

The human had no fucking clue whom he was talking to, and Bhric was feeling salty enough to show him.

The bartender placed both palms on the bar and lowered his head until he was eye level with Bhric. “Do I look like I’m joking? And, guess what? I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

Bhric sneered at the male. “As much as I appreciate a cocky bastard, I’m no’ in the mood. Now, pour me a drink before you find oot what I am,” Bhric growled, and his fangs slowly descended.

The bartender’s blue eyes bulged as he stared at the pointy canines, making Bhric’s smile grow wider. Say hello to my little friends, motherfucker.

The human slowly reached over and grabbed the bottle of liquor. His hand trembled as he poured the liquid to the rim, almost spilling it. Yeah, he was shitting his pants. Maybe next time, he’d show some respect when a vampire graced his establishment.

Bhric felt something brush against his leg and looked over to see a vampire sitting on the barstool next to him. The male made eye contact with the bartender, and his eyes flashed for a brief second.

“Hey, buddy. Can I get another beer?” the vampire asked.

Bhric retracted his fangs and gritted his teeth when the vampire’s eyes flashed again. Bhric didn’t have his older brother’s ability to speak telepathically with other supernaturals, but he was positive the male was erasing the past few minutes from the bartender’s mind.

Bhric’s suspicions were confirmed seconds later when the bartender’s expression relaxed. Without comment, the bartender reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of Dos Equis, handing it to the vampire before walking to the opposite end of the bar.

“You want to explain to me what the fuck you’re doing? You do know the penalty for exposure, don’t you?” the male asked as he tipped the bottle to his lips.

Of course, Bhric knew. His brother was the fucking Vampire King, and he was a goddess-damned prince. Exposure was a cardinal rule, and carried with it a death sentence.

Supernaturals lived among humankind, and humans had no idea of their existence. They also didn’t know of the darkness that roamed their streets. Demons preyed upon them, and the Dark Warriors of the Tehrex Realm were all that stood between them and annihilation.

The Goddess Morrigan created the members of the Tehrex Realm, and she set the rules. Zander was a stickler for them. In fact, with how pissed off Zander was at Bhric, he’d probably put him to death for the stunt he just pulled.

Bhric pushed up his sleeve, exposing his left forearm. The vampire’s eyes snagged on his Dark Warrior tattoo.

“Seriously? You know better than anyone. Is this some entitlement bullshit? You don’t have to play by the rules you set?” he asked belligerently.

Bhric took a large gulp of his drink, ignoring the male. Why the fuck did everyone feel the need to stick their nosy asses in his business? Bhric had planned on erasing the memory from the human’s mind. The entire incident was not a big fucking deal, yet this jackass wanted to play hero for the day.

“Yo,” the male blurted, and put his hand on Bhric’s shoulder, forcing him to look his direction.

Bhric’s gaze slid to where the vampire’s hand rested then back up to meet his gaze.

“You better get your fucking hand off me before I shove it up your arse,” Bhric snarled. He could use a good fight to ease some of his tension.

“You know what, fucker? I’ve heard the rumors about the Dark Warriors. You are far from the perfect martyrs you claim to be. Rumor is that it’s a big fucking orgy at Zeum, and you pass around your females like they’re appetizers,” the male taunted and moved closer, invading Bhric’s space.

Big fucking mistake.

In the next blink, Bhric’s blade was out, and against the vampire’s throat.

“How aboot I carve you into my next appetizer, you fucking douchebag! Doona ever disrespect the females at Zeum. I will gut you like a fucking pig,” Bhric growled, and pressed the blade deeper into his flesh as he shoved the vampire onto the top of the bar.

Bhric heard gasps from onlookers, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d burn the whole fucking place down if he had to. Or, better yet, freeze it into a morbid ice sculpture.

The vampire swallowed against the pressure to his throat. Hazel eyes widened and sweat beaded the vampire’s forehead. Fucker knew he was no match for Bhric. Not because he had a blade to his throat, or the fact that Bhric was a Dark Warrior, but because Bhric outweighed the male by about sixty pounds and had the balls to take him down, regardless of the humans gawking at the scene.

“Duly noted. Please accept my apology, and I’ll be on my way,” he gulped.

Bhric released his hold and placed his blade back into his boot. The few humans that watched the altercation quickly lost interest when the knife was put away, and returned to their talking and drinking.

The vampire sat up, rubbing at his throat. Blood trickled down his neck, but thanks to his vampiric nature, the wound was healing. The male grabbed a napkin from the bar and wiped the mess before straightening his shirt and stalking off, his eyes never leaving Bhric’s.

That’s right, asshat. Don’t come looking for a fight if you’re not prepared to back that shit up.

Bhric scanned the bar to see if anyone was still staring. Nope. They probably saw this kind of shit regularly in this place. It wasn’t the safest area of Seattle, and the patrons looked like they walked on the shady side of life.

The bartender was flirting with a female at the other end of the bar, oblivious to everything except the large breasts trying to escape the low-cut t-shirt that was two sizes too small. Bhric smelled their mutual arousal from his perch at the other end of the bar. Hundred bucks said they’d be fucking in the back room on the bartender’s next break.

Bhric grabbed the vampire’s abandoned beer and drained it in one swig. He hated cheap-ass beer, but it was cold and washed away the foul taste in his mouth. It was time to go. He didn’t belong here.

His cell phone lit up again, and Bhric glanced to the screen. Pasha. Fuck, could she not leave him alone for one hour?

His temple throbbed, and his jaw clenched, cracking a tooth. His brain was fried and his patience gone. As he sent healing cells to his tooth, he realized he couldn’t take this shit much longer.

He needed to talk to someone. This situation was eating him alive. Breslin would know what to do. He cursed himself for not telling his twin sister sooner, but he’d hoped Pasha would go away. No such fucking luck, and now his twin wasn’t speaking to him.

It was time to face the music. Bhric needed to come clean with his family about Pasha.

He grabbed his wallet and signaled for the bartender. Bhric tossed some cash on the wooden countertop and stood up, swaying when his buzz threatened to send him to his ass. After a few deep breaths, the spinning ceased and he managed to locate the neon exit sign. Several chairs, and patrons, got in his way, and Bhric bumped into them as he made his way towards the door. Or, maybe that was the spinning that was back in full force.

He stumbled out of the rear door of the establishment, and the smell of smoke and sweat from the bar was replaced with the smell of urine and trash, making his stomach lurch. The parking lot was deserted, except for the dozen or so trucks and motorcycles in nearby parking spots.

Suddenly, his eyes zeroed in on a tall figure standing beside Roxy. His freshly-painted motorcycle sparkled in the moonlight. No evidence remained of the accident he’d been in a couple weeks earlier. Roxy had lost a fight with the highway after Bhric lost control of the powerful machine.

Breslin and Zander threatened Bhric against drinking and riding Roxy again, but there was no way he was taking his SUV when he’d been without his motorcycle for ten days. She was the only female he rode lately, so yeah, he was driving her. Besides, he could handle his liquor.

At first Bhric thought the stranger was checking out his impressive ride, but then he realized it was the vampire from inside the bar. This dumbass must have a death wish.

Bhric puffed his chest and stalked toward the male. “I doona know what your fucking problem is, but you’re aboot to feel my freeze,” he gritted through clenched teeth as he balled his fists, and continued towards the vampire.

The male was standing in an awkward position with his hands behind his back, and Bhric wondered why he wasn’t taking a more defensive stance. As soon as the vampire was in striking distance, Bhric pulled his arm back to take a shot. The vampire’s arm swung out from behind his back, and that’s when Bhric saw the large knife.

“Fuck you, you self-righteous prick,” the vampire spat.

Bhric eyed the blade as the male slashed forward, Bhric’s head its target.

Ducking, Bhric barely escaped the attack. This fucker meant business, he thought, as adrenaline dumped into his system. The male wasn’t looking to fight Bhric. He wanted to kill him, and beheading a supernatural was a guaranteed death sentence.

Bhric responded by throwing an upper cut to the vampire’s chin, and the male’s head jerked backward. The vampire staggered a few steps but didn’t lose his footing. Bhric quickly punched him in the side, preventing the male’s retaliation.

Grabbing the vampire around the waist, Bhric continued to pummel the male. He felt the vampire’s feet leave the ground as Bhric served blow after blow. The crunch of ribs cracking was a gratifying sound. This asshat picked the wrong male to fuck with tonight because Bhric was itching to beat the ever-loving shit out of something.

“You assed out, motherfucker,” Bhric snarled before he tackled the male, and both tumbled to the pavement.

Pain immediately ripped through Bhric’s stomach, and he rolled to the side. Glancing down, Bhric saw the knife lodged deep into his abdomen. Groaning, he wrapped both hands around the handle and pulled.

“Oh, no, you don’t, asshole. I’m sending you to your maker tonight,” the vampire snarled, and pounced on top of Bhric, wrapping his hands around Bhric’s.

They struggled for ownership of the blade, but when the vampire shoved his knee into Bhric’s stomach, Bhric released his hold on the leather handle, shouting out in agony.

Another jolt of pain assailed when Bhric felt the blade slide from his flesh. Screaming out, Bhric bucked his hips, throwing the male from his body. Rolling over, Bhric tried to stand, but the combination of alcohol and his injury caused him to fall back to the ground.

The vampire lunged forward, and this time, Bhric couldn’t block the attack. Pain exploded in his head, clouding his vision, and bile churned in his throat. Bhric grabbed his face protectively and the world blurred. It was impossible to differentiate between sound and sight.

A muffled shout came from somewhere nearby, and Bhric tried to focus, but his vision wavered. Gurgling intruded, and he couldn’t breathe. In a panic, Bhric’s hands went to his throat and felt a hard, wet object under his chin. Was that the knife? His mind spiraled out of control. What the fuck was happening?

A shadow moved in front of him, and he squinted, trying to determine what, or who, it was. He felt a tug on his hand and reached out, but felt nothing.

A loud roar invaded the chaos clamoring in his mind. Roxy.

Bhric tried moving, but his body refused.

He tried shouting, but his voice was trapped.

Warm liquid ran down his neck and soaked the front of his shirt. The rumble of his motorcycle faded away, along with his heartbeat.

Was this what death felt like, Bhric thought, as darkness invaded his world?