The Half Blood

KING ALARIC

Her lips traced a path of warmth down my chest, leading to my arousal. I was electrified by her every touch. Her fingers danced over me, teasing and exploring.

Her dark hair tickled my skin, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. I gasped as her mouth enveloped me, the sensation overwhelming.

Ever since we began dating, she’d been eager to satisfy me in every possible way. It was a lot to take in at times.

I was lost in the sensation of her tongue, the tantalizing pressure building until I had to stop her. I pulled her up, positioning her beneath me on the bed.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as our lips met in a fierce kiss. I nipped at her lip, my hunger for her growing. Her blue eyes were my undoing. Her lips were soft, yet insistent.

Wait—blue eyes? I blinked, finding Salla’s brown eyes staring back at me, filled with anticipation.

I tried to refocus, losing myself in the taste of her lips. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw blue eyes instead of brown. Salla’s worried gaze met mine.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay, my love?” Salla asked.

I forced a smile.

“Yes. I’m just tired, I think.”

“Oh…” she replied, disappointment clouding her features.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked again.

“No, I’m just worn out from work.”

I was lying. I wanted to admit that something—or someone—was plaguing my thoughts. I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

I’d only seen the woman with the blue eyes twice, and only in dreams. The way she made me feel with just a look.

I’d do anything for her. I’d give my life for those eyes. I let out a deep sigh.

This is insane.

I didn’t even know her; I couldn’t recall her face, only her eyes. I saw her again last night. This time, it was different.

She was dancing around a fire, her white dress lifted to her knees. Her hair whipped around her in a wild dance. I couldn’t discern if it was red or blonde. She was mesmerizing.

She stopped dancing when she felt my gaze. The firelight obscured her face.

Who is she? Is she real?

Am I losing my mind?

I used to dream of finding my soulmate. I’d spend hours imagining what she looked like, her hair, her eyes. I’d daydream about her.

Then she would appear. I spent countless nights dreaming of her arrival.

My true mate? I didn’t care who she was, I wouldn’t choose her, even if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

I remembered Hado teasing me, saying that when my real mate appeared, I wouldn’t be able to resist the instinct to claim and protect her.

I glanced at Salla, her eyes closed, her head resting on my shoulder. Salla was beautiful. She was everything a man could want in a woman, and yet…

***

NALA

I needed a distraction.

Stepping out of the hotel for some fresh air, I reminded myself that Maeve was still a young witch. Her visions weren’t always accurate.

This was probably just the change of scenery messing with her magic.

The King couldn’t possibly be my mate.

I was just a half-breed, after all.

Enough, I told myself, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. My daydreams were becoming too much.

The streets were lined with quaint brick buildings housing various shops. The vibrant colors made me feel like I’d stepped into a fairy tale.

Bars and restaurants had set up small tables outside, inviting patrons to enjoy their meals under the sun.

As I strolled along the sidewalk, a tavern caught my eye. A Viking helmet hung above the entrance: Einar’s Viking Bar. It looked like a fun place to visit with Maeve later. The city was peaceful; people were simply going about their day. It was a charming, quiet town.

The aroma of roasting coffee beans drew me in. I spotted a small cafe with a dark-blue exterior and white window frames. I decided to stop in for a cup of coffee.

A woman of a certain age led me to a table.

“Hi there. Welcome to Café Rosalind. Can I get you started with some water?” The server was a young guy, probably around my age. He was lean, with green eyes and blond hair pulled back into a small topknot.

He stood out from the other werewolves in the area. They were typically burly and well-built, but this server was different.

“No, thank you. I’ll take an iced coffee,” I responded, offering a friendly smile.

“Iced coffee? You seem more like a hot coffee kind of girl.” He winked at me. “I’ll be right back with that.”

It was just past three in the afternoon, and the café was pretty quiet. Maybe this wasn’t their peak time.

A few minutes later, the flirty server returned with my coffee.

“Here you are,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Great, now I have to make small talk when all I want is to enjoy my coffee in peace.

“Mind if I ask why you’re visiting?” He leaned casually against my table, a hint of sass in his posture.

“I’m here to see the kingdom,” I told him, “it’s my first time.”

I didn’t want to be impolite, but I also didn’t want to encourage him.

“Wow, I’ve never met someone who hasn’t been to Alaric’s kingdom before.”

My heart sank at the mention of his name.

I was taken aback by the casual way he referred to his alpha.

“Alaric? Is that what people call him here, or is that just you?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

He laughed. “That’s what I call him.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, attempting to end the conversation and get him to leave, but he seemed oblivious and continued talking.

“There’s an event happening in a few days. Kind of like a game. You should come; it’s going to be a blast,” he suggested.

“Sure, maybe I’ll stop by.”

“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Enjoy your coffee, and hopefully I’ll see you there.”

I responded with a forced smile.

By the time I finished my coffee, it was already past four. I needed to get back to the hotel quickly; I had promised my mom I would help her get ready for the ball.

Back at the hotel, I helped Mom with her dress and jewelry. She looked stunning, like a true queen.

“Alright, girls. I hope you have some fun tonight.” She blew us kisses as she and Dad climbed into the cab.

Once they were gone, I turned to Maeve and said, “We need to get out of here. Let’s get dressed up and go get some drinks.”

“Nala? When can I go for a run?” My wolf asked, restless in my mind.

“Tomorrow night, okay?” I promised her. I could feel her retreating back into my mind.

Maeve emerged from the bathroom in gray jeans and a white silk blouse with a V-neck, her makeup done and her loose curls falling to her chest.

My sister was beautiful, with big green eyes and long, wavy dark-blonde hair. She was as intelligent and cultured as our mother.

“You’re going out dressed like that?” she asked.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You look like a black widow.” I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing black jeans, a black silk tank top, a black leather jacket, and black heels. Black widow?

“I really don’t care.” I sighed. “I just want to unwind,” I said, grabbing my purse and room key.

We ended up at the tavern I’d noticed earlier. It was packed. I watched a group of large local men drinking beer from horns.

They all looked like true Vikings, all muscle. I noticed one of them checking out my sister.

“That guy is looking at you, sis.” Maeve glanced at him and then spit her beer all over my face, laughing so hard that tears were forming in the corners of her eyes.

Seeing her like this, I couldn’t help but laugh too. She was trying to say something to me.

“Oh my… Oh m— Oh… Nala… Did you… Did you see him?”

“Yep. He’s even got…a tiny braid on his chin. All he’s missing is an ax.” The Viking caught on to our laughter, and with a stern look, he approached our table.

“Good evening,” he greeted, his face serious.

I attempted to maintain a straight face, but my sister wasn’t making it easy.

“Good evening,” I responded.

“I couldn’t help but notice you two aren’t locals,” the Viking observed.

“You’re right,” I confirmed, “we’re not from here.”

“What’s so funny, witch?” Maeve paused, her gaze on him becoming more intense.

Werewolves had the ability to sniff out witches, due to their distinct scent.

I’d never been able to identify that scent, as I lacked the ability to smell it, but I could always recognize a witch. I wasn’t sure why, but I could; it was a gut feeling.

“That’s none of your business…,” Maeve retorted, her voice steady, but her eyes betrayed her. I could see she was slightly unnerved, even scared.

“What are you going to do?” She challenged, “Oh, and you’ve got ketchup in your chin braid.”

The three of us locked eyes, and then Maeve and I burst into laughter once more.

“I’ll ensure your kind never steps foot in this kingdom again.”

As he rose to approach us, he stumbled over nothing and face-planted. The entire bar erupted in laughter, and Maeve stood tall, basking in her victory. Suddenly, Maeve fell silent. The kind of silence she had when she was reading someone’s thoughts. I could tell from her eyes that she was delving into the Viking’s mind. She was obviously concerned about something because the next thing I knew, she was pulling me out of the bar.

“Apologies,” she said, her eyes still on the bar’s entrance to ensure he wasn’t following us, “we needed to leave. That guy was about to lose his cool.”

“What did you see?”

“I’d rather not say,” she replied, “that guy seriously needs anger management or something.”

“So what’s next? The night can’t be over already, that’s so dull.”

“Well, I do have a plan,” she began, “but first, we need to change into something more suitable for a ball.”

Maeve had a devilish grin on her face, and for once, I didn’t mind.