Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Princess - A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance

Hey lovelies! 💕

I've been dreaming about writing a reverse harem paranormal romance for a while now. There's just something irresistible about fated mates, protective alphas, and a dash of forbidden love! Luna's story has been living rent-free in my head, demanding to be written - especially those three overprotective wolf shifter brothers who can't seem to stay away from their adopted vampire princess sister (awkward family dinners, anyone? 😏).

What started as a standalone quickly grew into something bigger - the world of New Vale, its supernatural clans, and Luna's journey with her brothers needed more room to breathe. So Luna's story is now a trilogy! Also, each clan in New Vale will get their own reverse harem series, with more girls from our world stumbling into this supernatural society. Think Chinese dragon dukes with ancient dynasty vibes, Victorian vampire lords with their aristocratic arrogance, Korean tiger shifters running K-pop empires, and so many more! Each heroine will have her own adventure (and multiple gorgeous supernatural men, of course 😘).

Below is the book description and a little teaser. I really hope you'll fall in love with Luna and her brothers as much as I have! The first book releases March 28th on Amazon and will be available in Kindle Unlimited.

Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Princess

After Dark Darlings Series

Available on Amazon and will be in Kindle Unlimited.

Pre-Order Vampire Princess

Book Description

Three brothers. One vampire princess. Zero chance of staying “just family.”

When I wished to belong somewhere, I didn’t mean “wake up in an alternate reality as a vampire princess with three hot wolf shifter brothers.” But here I am, suddenly inhabiting the body of Luna Valentine in New Vale—a metropolis where being supernatural isn’t special because everyone is, from the barista brewing blood-infused coffee to the CEO shifting into a wolf for board meetings.

I thought my biggest challenge would be hiding that I’m not the original Luna while figuring out which crystal glass is appropriate for AB negative. WRONG. After accidentally using one brother as a juice box, my biggest challenge is definitely them.

Zane, the commanding Alpha CEO who makes my fangs ache in ways they definitely shouldn’t. Ryker, the quiet, observant middle brother whose intense stares make my dead heart skip. And Archer, the charming youngest whose wicked grin makes me forget we’re supposed to be siblings.

Now an ancient tomb is awakening beneath the city, supernatural clans are circling like sharks, and my body reacts to the brothers in ways that make “family dinner” extremely awkward. Something inside me knows they’re mine—which is a problem since I’m supposed to be their sister.

Dearest Alpha Brothers is a steamy paranormal reverse harem featuring:

• Fated Mates & Blood Bonds

• Adopted Brothers Romance (Not-So-Brotherly Love!)

• Vampire Princess x Protective Alpha Wolf Brothers

• Transmigration with Found Family

• Steamy & Size Difference

This is Book 1 of the Dearest Alpha Brothers trilogy with the final book guarantees HEA.

Teaser

I need to finish those slides...

The thought drifted through my semi-conscious brain like a particularly annoying mosquito.

The board meeting. The presentation. Ms. Rodriguez’s inevitable credit-stealing performance, followed by her equally inevitable blame-shifting if things went wrong. “Oh, Luna prepared these slides...” I could already hear her throwing me under the corporate bus.

I burrowed deeper into the softest blanket I’d ever felt, my brain taking a moment to process that last thought. Softest blanket? My clearance comforter had many qualities, but ‘soft’ wasn’t one of them. This felt like sleeping on a cloud made of kittens’ dreams.

I rolled over, trying to escape both reality and this weird sensation—and kept rolling. And rolling. The bed seemed endless, a sea of silk sheets and fluffy duvets. My eyes snapped open, then immediately squeezed shut against the assault of morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.

When I dared to look again, the world had transformed into a cotton-candy fantasy. The room sprawled out before me, easily larger than my entire apartment. Walls painted in the softest shade of ballet-slipper pink faded into blush-colored crown molding. Gauzy curtains in rose quartz danced in a morning breeze, framing a view of the city that belonged in a luxury real estate magazine—all glittering skyscrapers and golden morning light, spread out far below like a toy set.

Far below? My stomach did a flip as I realized just how high up I was. Penthouse level, at least.

The kind of view that cost more per month than I made in a year.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice sounding strange and melodic to my own ears. “This is fine. Just a dream. A very detailed, very pink dream.”

I sat up slowly, taking in more details with each passing second. The canopy bed I found myself in could have housed a small army, its pale pink silk drapes tied back with ribbons. An army of stuffed animals watched me with glassy eyes—not the dollar store rejects I’d collected, but handcrafted designer plushies. Crystal unicorns, velvet bunnies, silk-furred cats, and... was that a Dragon Prince plushy?

Everything felt sharper, more intense. The morning light created rainbow prisms through crystal chandeliers—multiple chandeliers! I could hear birds singing from what seemed like miles away, and the silk sheets whispered against my skin with deafening clarity. Yet at the same time, everything felt slightly muted, like I was watching through a filter. My throat burned with a thirst unlike anything I’d ever experienced, making the world tilt sideways when I moved too quickly.

“Just need some water,” I muttered, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. And kept swinging them. And... oh. My feet dangled a good few inches above the plush carpet. Since when was this bed so tall? Since when was everything so tall?

I slid off carefully, knees wobbling like a newborn deer. The carpet—blush pink, because of course it was—felt impossibly soft under my bare feet. I took one tentative step, then another, fighting the surreal sensation that the floor was too close and too far at the same time.

Everything loomed larger—the antique vanity, the overstuffed armchair, even the doorknobs seemed higher than they should be.

My reflection caught my eye as I passed a full-length mirror—gilt-framed—and I froze. The face staring back at me wasn’t mine, all lavender eyes and perfect features, like someone had taken every manga princess ever and combined them into one impossibly beautiful being. Even my hair seemed magical, falling in dark waves and catching the light like starlight.

Definitely a dream, I thought, choosing to ignore how real everything felt. Too much manga before bed. Probably shouldn’t have read that vampire romance right before sleeping.

The girl in the mirror wore a silk nightgown, all delicate lace and soft pink silk. But what really caught my attention was how... petite I was. Delicate. Where I had been five feet nine before, inheriting my dad’s height and towering over most of my female coworkers, this body felt barely over five feet three. My new form moved with a grace I’d never possessed, even as I stumbled from the strange sensation of being in such a smaller frame. The world hadn’t gotten bigger—I’d just lost half a foot of height.

The thirst clawed at my throat again, making the edges of my vision blur. Bathroom. Water. Then panic. Dreams always feel real until you wake up, right?

I made my way to what I hoped was an en suite, each step a reminder that my stride was now significantly shorter. The double doors—because apparently single doors weren’t fancy enough—opened to reveal a bathroom that made five-star hotels look like truck stops.

Marble everything. Gold fixtures. A bathtub that could double as a swimming pool. More crystal chandeliers. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered another vertigo-inducing view of the city, though thankfully these were frosted for privacy.

I stumbled to one of the dual sinks—who needs two sinks? What kind of dream logic was this?—gripping the marble counter as another wave of dizziness hit. The morning light caught every surface, sending rainbow reflections dancing across the walls, beautiful but almost painful to my oversensitive eyes.

Water. Focus on water.

I turned the tap—gold, obviously—and cupped my hands under the stream. The water felt cool against my burning throat, but it did nothing to ease the thirst. If anything, it made it worse, like my body was rejecting it entirely.

“This is fine,” I told my reflection. “Everything is—”

Even expecting it, the sight of my new face in the bathroom’s crystal-clear lighting still knocked the breath from my lungs. The huge lavender eyes seemed to glow, my skin practically luminescent against the dark waves of my hair. I leaned closer, mesmerized despite myself. Dreams didn’t usually have this much detail, did they?

That’s when I noticed them. Two tiny, perfectly formed fangs, peeking out over my bottom lip.

I jerked back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet—which, given my new shorter stature, was even easier than usual. “No, no, no...” I poked one fang with my finger and immediately regretted it. Sharp. Very sharp. And very real.

Okay, Luna, think. This was just a very detailed dream. Too many late nights reading manga. The fangs? Obviously my subconscious processing that vampire romance series. The burning thirst? Probably dehydration from all those convenience store dinners. The fact that everything looked like it belonged in “Lifestyles of the Rich and Supernatural”? Well...

A wave of hunger hit me so hard my knees buckled. This wasn’t normal hunger—this wasn’t even “forgot to eat lunch and dinner because Ms. Rodriguez demanded those reports” hunger. This was primal. Devastating. The kind of hunger that turned the world grey and made rational thought slip away like water. My throat felt like I’d swallowed desert sand, and my new... accessories... throbbed painfully.

That’s when I caught it. A scent so mouthwatering it made my head spin. Like fresh-baked cookies and summer rain and something else I couldn’t name but suddenly needed more than air. My body moved before my brain could catch up, drawn to that scent like it was the answer to every question I’d never thought to ask.

The penthouse was a maze of luxury that would make Versailles feel inadequate. I drifted past room after room, each more opulent than the last. A library with ceiling-high shelves and leather-bound books. A music room where a white grand piano caught the morning light. A formal dining room that could seat fifty, crystal glasses catching rainbow prisms.

My reflection ghosted along in gilded mirrors—this strange new me floating past like some kind of manga spirit princess. Everything sparkled, from the crystal chandeliers to the gold-leafed ceiling murals of angels that definitely weren’t wearing enough clothes to get past HR.

Just a dream, I reminded myself as I passed what looked like a literal throne room. A very detailed, very expensive, very thirsty dream.

The scent grew stronger, leading me through French doors into what had to be the world’s fanciest rooftop garden. Perfectly manicured hedges shaped like fantastic beasts created green walls around beds of roses in every color imaginable. White roses climbed marble trellises, pink ones spilled over crystal fountains, and red ones blazed like sunrise against emerald leaves.

Fountains tinkled musically, and somewhere a bird was singing an aria that would make Broadway jealous. The morning sun painted everything in gold, glinting off dew drops like scattered diamonds. A maze of topiaries led to different garden rooms—was that a greenhouse made entirely of stained glass? A pavilion floating over a koi pond? How was there a koi pond on a roof?

And in the middle of it all...

Oh.

He sat at a glass table that probably cost more than my entire life, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, radiating the kind of casual power that came with being stupid gorgeous and knowing it. Silver-white hair caught the sunlight like platinum, falling just so over steel-grey eyes focused on a tablet. His jaw could have been carved by Michelangelo himself, and the crisp white shirt he wore did nothing to hide the fact that he definitely didn’t skip arm day. Or any day.

I ducked behind a marble column, my heart doing a weird flutter that had nothing to do with hunger. Who orders their hedge trimmed into a dragon, anyway? And why does the dragon look judgy?

But then he shifted, and the movement sent another wave of that intoxicating scent washing over me. My vision tunneled, zeroing in on his throat. I could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, could practically see the blood flowing through his veins like the world’s most tempting river.

Bad Luna. No eating the hot garden man.

But my body had other ideas, drawing me forward like a moth to an unfairly attractive flame. Each heartbeat echoed in my ears, drowning out rational thought. Each pulse of blood through his veins was a siren song I couldn’t resist.

It’s just a dream, I told myself as I crept closer. Dreams don’t count. You can’t actually hurt anyone in a dream...

The hunger took over completely. One moment I was behind the column, the next I was moving—no, floating—across the garden. Wind whipped my hair back, morning air cool against my skin as the world blurred around me. Everything faded except his throat, that steady pulse of blood that called to me like a siren song.

He never saw me coming. One second he was focused on his tablet, the next I crashed into him with enough force to send the device clattering across marble tiles. A surprised grunt escaped him as I landed in his lap, straddling him, my frame pressed against what felt like a wall of solid muscle.

But I couldn’t focus on that. Couldn’t focus on anything except the pulse point in his throat, the steady thrum of blood that made my fangs ache desperately.

My fangs sank into his neck before I could second-guess myself.

His whole body went rigid beneath me. A sharp inhale, hands freezing mid-air like he couldn’t quite process what was happening.

The first taste of his blood hit me like lightning. Pleasure exploded through every nerve ending, turning my bones to honey. This wasn’t just satisfying hunger—this was every dessert I’d ever craved, every comfort I’d ever sought, mixed with something decidedly more... adult. Heat pooled in my stomach, making me press closer without meaning to.

His hands finally settled on me, one at my waist, one cradling the back of my head, and the gentle touch sent another wave of warmth through my body. Then the memories started rushing in like a tidal wave—

Luna Valentine. Vampire princess. Whitlock Clan. Adopted sister to—

Brother who always tried to connect. Who left books outside her door. Who spoke softly through walls when she refused to come out. Who never stopped trying, even when she pushed everyone away.

I jerked back so fast I nearly fell off his lap, horror crashing through the pleasure haze as memories slotted into place. “Zane?”

Steel-grey eyes met mine, filled with such gentle affection it made my heart squeeze. A drop of blood trickled down his neck, and I had to forcibly drag my gaze away from it—though my new instincts screamed at me not to waste a single drop.

“Welcome back, little darling,” he said, lips quirking into a smile that did absolutely nothing to help the lingering warmth in my body. His thumb absently stroked my waist where he still held me. “Finally decided to join the land of the living? Or, well—” He gestured at the fang marks on his neck. “The technically undead?”

Oh god. I was still in his lap. I’d just bitten my adopted brother. And it had felt... No. Nope. Not going there.

I scrambled backward so fast I tripped over my own feet, face burning. “I... you... this isn’t...”

His laugh was rich and warm, sending another unwanted shiver down my spine. “Careful, princess. You’re floating.”

I looked down. My feet were indeed several inches off the ground, my pink silk nightgown drifting in a non-existent breeze.

This is fine, I told myself as I drifted there like a mortified balloon. Everything is fine.

“I should... I need to...” I gestured vaguely at the French doors, trying to ignore how I could still taste his blood on my tongue, how part of me wanted nothing more than to climb right back into his lap for seconds.

“Luna.” His voice was soft, careful, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal. “It’s okay.”

I was already floating backward, bumping into a rosebush and sending petals scattering everywhere. “Sorry! I’m sorry! I just... bathroom! Yes. Bathroom emergency. Very urgent. Bye!”

I fled through the French doors, leaving my dignity scattered among the rose petals.

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. Because I, Luna Bennett, had apparently woken up as Luna Valentine, vampire princess.

And I’d just used my adopted brother as a juice box.

A very attractive juice box who still had my fang marks on his neck.

I zoomed through marble hallways like a panicked pinball, bouncing off walls and nearly taking out a priceless-looking vase. Left? Right? Why does this place have so many corridors?

Okay, Luna, think. You just drank blood. From a person. An extremely attractive person who is apparently your brother. Adopted brother, my brain helpfully supplied, like that made it better somehow.

I turned another corner, my nightgown floating around me like some kind of distressed ghost. I’m an only child. The closest thing I have to a sibling is Mochi, and he only acknowledges my existence at dinner time. But now I have a brother? A gorgeous, kind-eyed brother who apparently lets his sister use him as a walking juice box?

The worst part? Part of me was stupidly happy about having family. About those memories of someone caring enough to leave books and speak through walls and never give up, even when Luna—when I—kept pushing away.

No. Nope. This is just a dream. A very detailed dream where I float and drink blood and have a brother who looks like he walked off the cover of men’s magazine.

I rounded another corner at mach speed and slammed straight into a wall.

Or what I thought was a wall until I bounced off and landed on my butt with a very undignified “oof.”

I blinked up at the ceiling, watching little cartoon wolves dance around my head like the world’s most specific concussion hallucination. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was a crystal chandelier.

When I wake up, I thought hazily, I’ll be back in my cramped apartment. Mochi will be yowling for breakfast. No penthouses, no vampire powers, no unfairly attractive adopted brothers...

Just plain old Luna Bennett, who definitely doesn’t drink blood or float or have family who actually wants her...

The chandelier blurred, crystals spinning like stars, and then everything went black.

At least, came one final delirious thought, I didn’t get any blood on the nightgown. That silk definitely needs dry cleaning...

***

Whitlock Brothers

Zane pinched the bridge of his nose as he ended the call. Three hours of negotiations with the Hawkins Clan about oil pipeline permissions, and all he had to show for it was a migraine and the sudden urge to ban the phrase “but that’s how we’ve always done it” from New Vale’s vocabulary.

His fingers unconsciously traced the already-healed marks on his neck. Even hours later, he could still feel the phantom sensation of Luna’s fangs, still smell her transformed scent—cherry blossoms and moonlight where once there was only subtle vanilla and old books.

Bears. Always so damn stubborn. Though right now, even Colt Hawkins’ drawling demands couldn’t distract him from the memory of this morning.

“With all due respect, Alpha Whitlock,” Colt had drawled, “these pipelines have run through Pack territory since my granddaddy’s granddaddy’s time.”

Yes, and your granddaddy’s granddaddy probably thought indoor plumbing was witch craft, Zane had wanted to say. Instead, he’d maintained his perfect alpha composure and explained—for the fifth time—why modern environmental regulations required rerouting certain sections.

His wolf, usually so focused during clan business, kept circling restlessly, replaying the morning’s... incident. One moment he’d been reviewing quarterly reports in his garden sanctuary, catching an unfamiliar scent that made his beast purr with contentment. The next, a vampire princess had landed in his lap like some kind of adorable assassin. Luna—his Luna—who’d spent years hiding behind doors and columns, who flinched from physical contact, who’d never shown the slightest interest...

She’d felt impossibly small in his arms, warm and soft and right. His wolf had practically howled with satisfaction when her fangs pierced his skin. The beast that had slumbered contentedly for years suddenly wanted to wrap around her, protect her, claim her...

She’s your sister, he reminded himself sternly. Adopted, but still...

His office in Whitlock Tower—all glass, steel, and spectacular views of New Vale’s skyline—felt suddenly confining. The council meeting would start in an hour, where he’d have to face not just the bears, but eleven other clan heads, each with their own agendas and millennia-old grudges.

And all he could think about was the way Luna had looked at him afterward, those lavender eyes wide with confusion and something else, something that made his wolf want to...

Focus.

He reached for his phone. “Ryker. Find our baby brother before he tries to convince the library carpet to adopt him. Again.”

“Already done,” Ryker’s dry voice came through. “He was using that invisibility charm the Satos gave us for Christmas.”

“The one we were supposed to use for clan security?”

“That’s the one. Though watching him try to explain to Lady Sato why he used ancient fox magic to hide from a budget meeting last month was... entertaining. Especially when she threatened to turn him into an actual fox for disrespecting ancestral magic.”

“The Bentley,” Zane decided, pushing away thoughts of lavender eyes and delicate fangs. “We’ll take the Bentley to Council Hall.”

“Not the Rolls? The Kingston Clan just unveiled their new Phantom. Isaiah Kingston will be insufferable if we show up in anything less. Still preening about his new record label’s collaboration with the Parks.”

“The Bentley has better leg room for when we have to drag Archer out from whatever hiding spot he finds. Last time—”

“The Ming vase incident,” they said in unison.

“Which is why the Chengs now have force fields around their antiques.” Zane allowed himself a small smirk. “Though watching their young duke try to explain to his grandmother why her priceless dynasty relic was full of wolf shifter was almost worth the diplomatic incident. Especially when she started throwing fireballs and cursing in ancient Mandarin.”

A muffled “I heard that!” came through the phone, presumably from Archer. “That vase was asking for it! Do you know how many council meetings I’ve had to sit through where old Lady Wei Cheng brags about her ancestor’s pottery collection? Besides, have you seen today’s agenda? The Bellini Clan wants to expand their beach resort into Kingston territory—again. Something about premium sunset views being wasted on music studios.”

“The meeting, Archer.” Zane checked his reflection in the window, adjusting his silver tie. Perfect, as always. The Alpha of the Whitlock Clan couldn’t show up to Council looking anything less. “Don’t make me use the Alpha voice, baby brother.”

Zane strode through the executive floor of Whitlock Tower, his presence commanding immediate attention. Shifters had a natural hierarchy, and he was apex—every wolf in the building knew it. Staff members bowed their heads respectfully as he passed, their wolves automatically submitting to their Alpha. The scent of submission and respect filled the air, a familiar comfort he usually enjoyed. Today, however, it felt hollow compared to the lingering memory of cherry blossoms and moonlight.

The main office space sprawled before him, a sea of suits and shifting energies. Wolves from every pack in his clan worked here, their combined presence creating an atmosphere of controlled power. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed everything in natural light—wolves didn’t do well in cramped, dark spaces. Modern art pieces adorned the walls, while strategic touches of silver and crystal—a nod to their clan emblem—reminded everyone whose territory this was.

And yet, his wolf mused, none of it feels as interesting as that beautiful vampire who invaded our garden this morning.

The private elevator recognized his presence, doors sliding open silently. He’d insisted on security measures that would make the Lionheart Clan’s divine fortifications look relaxed, but right now, his mind kept drifting to how easily Luna had slipped past them all.

The underground garage was his sanctuary—classic cars lined up like soldiers, each one perfect, pristine, and...

“Is that dirt on your shoes, Archer?”

His youngest brother lounged against the Bentley, looking like he’d just rolled through the library’s rare manuscript section. His golden hair was tousled, his designer shirt half-untucked, and yes—those were definitely carpet fibers on his loafers.

“The Persian rug and I had a very deep conversation,” Archer grinned, that infamous dimple appearing. “Did you know it was woven during the Ming Dynasty? Very philosophical, that rug.”

Ryker, already holding the driver’s door open, raised an eyebrow. “The Ming Dynasty was Chinese, not Persian.”

“Details, details. The point is—”

“The point is,” Zane cut in, “you look like you’ve been dragged backward through the Sato Clan’s zen garden. Fix the shirt. Brush off the shoes. And for Moon’s sake, do something about that hair.”

“But the messy look is in! The Park Clan’s newest idol group—”

“The Park Clan isn’t representing the most powerful wolf pack in New Vale at today’s council meeting.”

Ten minutes and several grooming arguments later, they were finally on the road. Zane focused on his tablet, reviewing the meeting agenda while Ryker navigated downtown traffic. In the backseat, Archer had started humming what sounded suspiciously like the latest Park-Kingston collaboration single.

“So,” Archer’s voice cut through the comfortable silence. “Is it just me, or was Luna acting weird today?”

Zane’s fingers tightened on the tablet. In the driver’s seat, Ryker’s shoulders tensed slightly.

“I mean, she was actually in the library. Using it, not just hiding in it,” Archer continued, frowning slightly. “And when I helped her up after the ladder incident, she didn’t immediately bolt. That’s... different, right?”

“Council meeting,” Zane said firmly, ignoring how his wolf perked up at the mentioning of Luna. “Focus on the agenda.”

“But—”

“The Hawkins pipeline issue needs resolution. The Bellini-Kingston territory dispute—”

“Fine, fine,” Archer sighed dramatically, slumping back against the leather seats. “But something’s different. I just can’t put my finger on what.”

The Bentley glided through downtown New Vale, passing from Whitlock territory into the neutral zone where Council Hall stood. Ancient magic thrummed beneath the pavement here, old treaties and stronger powers than even alpha wolves keeping the peace.

Modern skyscrapers gave way to older architecture—a blend of all thirteen clans’ influences. Dragon sculptures from the Chengs watched from rooftops while the Blackthorns’ gothic spires pierced the clouds. The Kingstons’ sleek entertainment complexes shared streets with the Bellini Clan’s galleries. Somehow, it worked. Most of the time.

“Heads up,” Ryker murmured as they approached Council Hall. “Looks like the Shadowmeres are already here.”

Sure enough, a fleet of black SUVs with tinted windows lined the private entrance. Trust the Death District’s rulers to arrive early and unseen.

“Ten bucks says they’re planning something ominous,” Archer leaned forward between the front seats, his shirt already coming untucked again. “Nobody wears that much black in summer unless they’re up to no good.”

“Fix your shirt,” Zane said automatically, though his mind was already shifting to alpha mode. The Shadowmeres had been suspiciously quiet lately. “And remember—”

“Yes, yes. Best behavior. No hiding in priceless artifacts. No commenting on Old Lady Cheng’s endless Ming Dynasty stories. And no asking Lord Thanatos if death angels actually carry scythes,” Archer rattled off, slumping back into his seat. “Though I still think asking Lord Blackthorn if vampires sparkle in sunlight was a perfectly valid question.”

The last comment caught Zane off guard, his mind instantly flying back to this morning—how Luna’s skin had shimmered in the garden light when she’d fed from him, tiny diamond-like sparkles dancing across her flesh. She’d looked ethereal, enchanting, like something from an ancient fairy tale rather than his shy adopted sister. The memory of her delicate form in his lap, the way the sunlight had caught those sparkles...

Zane straightened his already perfect tie as Ryker pulled up to the entrance. Time to be the Alpha his clan needed. Time to focus on treaties and territories and...

Cherry blossoms and moonlight. Lavender eyes wide with confusion. Tiny fangs against his throat...

This was going to be a long meeting.

The grand entrance of Council Hall soared above them, ancient magic thrumming through its marble columns. Morning light streamed through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the marble floor—a subtle reminder of the Blackthorn Clan’s Gothic influence on the building’s architecture.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our favorite wolves,” a familiar voice called out. “Looking sharp as always, Whitlocks.”

Isaiah Kingston pushed away from one of the towering columns, his tanned skin and athletic build showcased perfectly by his tailored suit. Of all the clan leaders, the Kingstons were closest to the Whitlocks—their territories shared the longest border, and their business interests often aligned. Behind him, his younger brother Cameron was already pulling out his phone, probably to show Archer his latest track.

“Isaiah,” Zane nodded, accepting the traditional greeting—a brief clasp of forearms that let both alphas assess the other’s strength. “How’s the new entertainment complex coming along?”

“Would be coming along faster if the Parks would stop trying to build their K-pop academy right next door,” Isaiah grinned. “But you know how it is with territories.”

“Speaking of territories...” Cameron sidled up to Archer, phone in hand. “Wait till you hear this beat. Thinking of dropping it at the next full moon festival.”

“Only if you promise not to let Andre choreograph again,” Archer laughed. “My wolf still hasn’t recovered from last time.”

Their easy banter was interrupted by a sudden drop in temperature. Sebastian Blackthorn, current head of the vampire clan, glided past with his brothers Edmund and James. They moved like living shadows, their perfectly pressed suits somehow both modern and reminiscent of Victorian nobility.

“Ah, the Whitlock Clan,” Sebastian’s cultured accent carried just the right note of aristocratic disdain. “I trust we’ll have no... incidents today?”

Before Archer could respond, another voice cut through the tension. “Now, now, Bastian,” Akira Sato materialized beside them, fox magic dancing in his golden eyes. “Surely we can all behave like the centuries-old beings we are?”

The Sato clan head embodied millennia of kitsune nobility in his formal hakama and silk kimono, the clan’s ancient symbols woven in gold thread across the black silk. His presence commanded attention without effort, and only the nine fox tails shimmering in and out of visibility behind him betrayed his true supernatural nature.

“Some of us are trying,” came a sharp voice from the grand staircase. Young Duke Ming Cheng descended like royalty in his midnight blue changshan, gold dragons embroidered along its length, his dragon magic crackling around him like a storm waiting to break. The traditional silk robe somehow made him look more modern, not less—a perfect blend of ancient power and contemporary authority. “Though certain wolves make it... challenging.”

Archer actually had the grace to look sheepish. “About that vase—”

“The Ming Dynasty piece that survived countless wars only to meet its end as a wolf’s hiding spot?” Ming’s perfectly groomed eyebrow arched higher. “The one my grandmother still threatens to turn me into a gecko over?”

“In my defense,” Archer started, but Ryker quickly cut him off with an elbow to the ribs.

Zane watched the interactions with carefully maintained alpha composure, though his wolf was getting restless. Something about being surrounded by so many powerful supernatural beings today felt... different. Like the air itself was charged with expectation.

“Honestly,” Ming continued, “I’m still finding wolf fur in the restoration room. Do you know how hard it is to explain that to our archivists?”

“Could be worse,” Akira mused, his fox tails now completely visible and swaying with amusement. “Remember when Archer tried to use that invisibility charm to sneak into the Sato arcade after hours?”

“That was one time—”

“You set off every magical alarm in a five-block radius,” Akira grinned. “My sisters still have the security footage. They play it at clan gatherings.”

Sebastian’s lip curled slightly. “How... entertaining. Though perhaps we could discuss more pressing matters? The blood bank regulations, for instance?”

The temperature dropped another few degrees. Trust a vampire to bring business into a perfectly good round of Archer-teasing.

“Ah yes,” Isaiah drawled, throwing a knowing look at Zane. “Blood banks. Territory disputes. Pipeline negotiations. All those fascinating topics that make Archer try to merge with the furniture.”

“I do not—”

“The Ming vase?” Ryker supplied helpfully.

“Lady Blackthorn’s curtains?” Cameron added.

“That fountain in the Park Clan’s courtyard?” Akira chimed in.

“Once,” Archer protested. “That happened once.”

“Which time?” Ming asked dryly.

Zane should have been paying attention to the banter, should have been monitoring the subtle power plays happening beneath the surface. Instead, his mind kept drifting to this morning’s... incident. The way Luna’s skin had sparkled in the sunlight, how delicate she’d felt in his lap, how her lavender eyes had widened when she’d realized...

“Earth to Alpha Whitlock,” Isaiah’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re unusually quiet today. Pipeline negotiations with the Hawkins Clan that bad?”

Zane straightened, forcing his thoughts away from beautiful vampires and back to clan business. “Colt Hawkins remains... traditional in his views.”

“Traditional?” Sebastian’s perfect accent dripped with sarcasm. “Is that what we’re calling stubborn bears these days?”

The great doors at the end of the hall began to swing open, ancient magic humming through the air. Show time.

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