for the female that would soon be chosen to become queen to the likes of that ruthless king.
It wasn’t his concern though. His own queen was out there. Brant shuddered, praying that the events of one hundred years ago would not repeat themselves. A bloody war between their fathers had been the result of the last choosing. It couldn’t happen again, the vampire species would not survive another war at this point.
As his mind returned to thoughts of his own female, he knew that he would not be able to remain sensible where she was concerned. His focus was on protecting his coven, and he would dispatch the other male without hesitation if he so much as looked at what was his. No matter the odds, and the knowledge of Zane’s ruthlessness, Brant would allow nothing to harm her. She was too valuable, too precious of a gift to him.
Turning, he surveyed the crowd again. Feeling the electric pulse of her closeness. According to the lores, he would be able to sense her and to tell of their compatibility almost instantly even in a crowd full of females. From the noise projecting from outside, he could tell there were many females present. He hoped his chosen would be willing from the start. The last thing he wanted was to force her, to have to go caveman on her and throw her over his shoulder. The thought did not appeal to him, but the choosing was not something that could be ignored. She would feel it as well, whether she wanted to or not.
“Ready?” his head guard Xavier asked as he moved in next to him. His brother’s eyes never faltered as they stared straight into his. Brant knew the reason for the intenseness. Xavier harbored similar feelings of distaste and distrust for their neighboring king. In order to maintain their tenuous hold on the truce between them, it had always been necessary to keep interactions between the two covens to a minimum. This event was no exception.
“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Brant replied while taking a moment to scan the room.
“Your eyes are glowing my lord, maybe you should stop looking in that direction.”
Brant looked into Xavier’s clear grey eyes. Always the cool one in a situation. “My eyes have nothing to do with that bastard at the moment, and everything to do with my female. I can sense her, and the urge to mate is strong. I just hope that she’ll be agreeable to a speedy union.”
“I told you to take a female, ease your need. Humans are…easily broken. We don’t want any accidents.” Xavier spoke softly, ensuring that no one else would be privy to their conversation.
“I have a plan.”
“Please, tell me you at least drank recently,” Xavier’s eyes narrowed. When Brant didn’t reply, his brother’s eyes narrowed even more. He made a sound of disbelief and continued, “Brother, should you harm our future—”
“Enough,” Brant growled.
Xavier lowered his eyes.
“I said I have a plan. My future queen will come to no harm.”
Xavier nodded. “Yes, my lord. It is time.”
Brant took a deep breath. He had been raised for this moment. His decision and the events of the next few minutes would determine the future of his coven.
No pressure.
Tanya had seen tabloid pictures of the vampire kings and they really weren’t all that attractive, unless you were into the ultra-big, ultra-built and ridiculously bad non-human types.
She so wasn’t.
The whole choosing ceremony was so outdated to the point of being down right sexist. Yet, every hundred years, all of the eligible women would assemble to be chosen. A queen for each of the kings. The worst part was that vampires and humans never mixed so there was very little known about them. Their traditions, their ways, their expectations, she shuddered.
For at least the twentieth time, she wished that her best friend Becky was there with her. The whole thing was a real circus. Tanya hadn’t realized how many women there were in Sweetwater between the ages of twenty one and thirty. Aside from age, there had been a long list of requirements. Everything from weight and height to a clean medical exam.
Tanya sighed as a group of giggling women squeezed past her trying to find a spot closer to the podium. Becky was divorced, a complete no-no. It had automatically disqualified her from being allowed to attend the choosing ceremony. Attend, hah, not hardly, the right term would be forced. If all aspects of the criteria were met,