All the King's Men: The Beginning (3 page)

At first, the newborn seemed to bring peace between their families again, but the dreck population continued to pressure Argon for retribution against the
upir
for murdering over half the members of Teo's family, and eventually disavowed him as their ruler, inducting his son, Tauno, to replace him. Tauno wasn't as sympathetic to the
upir
as Argon and Abrial, and soon after Tauno's coronation, tensions escalated quickly between the drecks and the
upir
. Amid the chaos and skirmishes that followed, King Cato took custody of young Rysk and denied Abrial's unrelenting wish to see him. In her despair, she took her own life, too distraught to continue living.

All-out war erupted a month later.

And so, it was out of love, jealousy, and loss that the never-ending feud between the drecks and the
upir
began. A feud that led to more than a dozen wars and pitted the stronger
upir
—later to be known as vampires—against their former allies, the drecks, who were weaker in every respect but intellectually.

As the years passed into decades, centuries, and eventually millennia, the reason for the feud that turned into a war was forgotten by all but a few. Argon was driven into hiding, not even safe from his own son, who would have killed him out of spite for letting relations come to such a grievous state.

From his self-imposed exile, Argon followed the war as best he could as the two races of immortals battled for supremacy for a reason that never should have been. Rysk's and Abrial's love for one another—a love that should have been honored and treasured for its purity—had been desecrated into the cause for a race-wide tragedy. A tragedy that Argon shouldered the responsibility for. This was his fault, and one day he would make amends. He would find a way.

Until then, he would remain silent, bide his time, and prepare. He would watch his race struggle to survive in an ongoing war destined to forever play in the vampires' favor, broken only by periods of strained peace.

A peace enforced by the vampire king's warriors, All the King's Men.

Chapter 1

December 6, present day

Josie sat on the edge of the bathtub, her fingers threaded together in her lap as she checked the timer on the counter for the third time in twenty seconds.
Only forty more seconds to go
.

Her bare feet tapped quietly on the polished, marble floor as she blew out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear as she dropped her gaze to admire yesterday's pedicure. The lady at the salon had chosen a dark purple polish when Josie told her to surprise her. It was a pretty shade. Reminded her of grape Skittles. She wiggled her toes, bit her bottom lip, and checked the timer again. Thirty-five seconds left.

She had waited until Tristan left for work before hurrying to the corner drugstore for a home pregnancy test. Okay, six pregnancy tests. A little overkill, but she wanted to be sure.

The tests were created for humans, but allegedly still worked on those like her, according to what she had heard over the years. Neither human nor vampire, Josie was somewhere in the middle. She was what Tristan and other vampires called a
davala
, an immortal who was once human but was turned by the bite of a vampire.

By the king's law, only the biological mate of a male vampire could be transformed into a
davala
, but Tristan had broken the law to turn her. He loved her, but he hadn't mated her. Not biologically speaking. The bond that linked traditional vampire mates to one another never formed between them. Tristan had never experienced a
calling
or a
suffering
, which only mated males were capable of having.

This made Josie even more doubtful that she would see anything but a negative on her pee stick.

Fifteen seconds to go
. Really? For the love of God, could the seconds tick by any more slowly?

Being a
davala
hadn't stopped her periods from coming like clockwork every month. It looked like even immortal women still had to deal with their monthly visitors. So, her ovaries would produce eggs until the end of time. It was a small price to pay for becoming immortal. At least she didn't have to drink blood like Tristan.

She nervously eyed the timer.

When the date had come and gone on her calendar, and she didn't start…and another day came and went, and another, until eleven days had passed…well, she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. She had to know, so she had bought the tests.

Tristan had told her he would never be able to give her a child. She remembered that conversation so clearly.

"Maybe this time will work," she had said wistfully one night after they had made love and she was tucked inside the circle of his arms.

The year had been 1921, when she had still gone by the name Josephine. They had already been together two years since he'd saved her from the Spanish flu by making her his
davala
. They were more deeply in love than she had thought two people could be. To her, it didn't matter that he was a vampire. He was the kindest, most giving and compassionate man she had ever met.

"Josephine…" Tristan's voice sounded strained.

She turned to face him, but when she saw his dire expression, her heart sank and her smile faded. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and let go of her then rolled away before pulling himself out from under the blankets to sit on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

"Tristan?" She sat up and scooted to sit on her knees beside him. "You're scaring me." Did he not love her anymore? Did he want to leave?

"Josie…" It was the first time he'd ever called her that. "I need to tell you something. I had hoped…" Tears glistened in his eyes and emotion strangled his words. All she could do was wait, holding her breath, until he was able to continue. He coughed and cleared his throat, then tried again. "I had hoped things would be different for us, but the more time passes, and the longer we go without conceiving, the more I fear that…" Tears dropped to his cheeks, and he quickly slammed his eyes closed and rubbed his palms over his face as if trying to hide his sadness.

"Tristan, what's wrong? What are you telling me?" Fear gripped her heart as the first glimpse of the picture began to form.

He dropped his hands to his lap and sighed, lifting his sad, apologetic gaze to her. "Josie, I don't think I'll ever be able to give you children."

Her lungs emptied of air as if he had punched her. He pulled her into his arms and whispered how much he loved her. He kissed her hair, her eyelids, her lips, and her tears, all the while muttering what sounded like prayers or phrases of devotion in a language she didn't understand.

Then he told her everything about how a male vampire mated…about a male's
calling
…that since he had never technically mated her he would never have a
calling
with her…that he could never give her a child without a
calling
.

The conversation had imprinted on her mind like the death of a loved one, and really, being told that Tristan could never give her a son or daughter had been a little like the death of a child, because she had always wanted children. To be told she would forever remain childless had left a gaping hole in her soul, and she had cried a river in his arms, his tears adding to hers. The news that she would never have his child had been as painful for him to say as it had been for her to hear, and it had been clear that he had wanted a young with her as much as she had wanted to give him one.

So, here she sat, the twelfth day in, wondering if a miracle had occurred, waiting for pregnancy test number one to do its thing and give her a yay or a nay. Or was that a
yay
? Or a
damn
? She would find out in five seconds.

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

Beep-beep-beep
.

She took a hesitant breath, unwound her fingers, and slowly stood, her Skittle-purple toenails all but forgotten. The stick sat behind the timer, and she couldn't quite see the little square that would give her one line or two. Suddenly eager, she rushed to the sink and picked up the stick.

Two lines.

What did that mean? Was she pregnant or not? She couldn't remember.
Wait…think
. One line meant no and two meant yes. Wasn't that what the package insert had said? She thought so, but now she wasn't sure. Where was it? Where was the damn package insert? She spun then bolted from the bathroom to the kitchen, where the other five tests rested in the shopping bag on the counter. An empty box sat beside the bag, along with the instructions. She snagged the creased insert and skimmed through the tiny print as she hurried back to the bathroom. She stopped when she came to the paragraph about reading the results.

One line. Not pregnant.

Two lines. Pregnant.

She rushed back into the bathroom, grabbed the stick, and looked at it again. Definitely two lines.

Omigod! I'm pregnant.

To be sure, she ran back to the kitchen, grabbed another test that didn't require first-morning urine, ripped open the box, and practically sprinted back to the bathroom. She forced out enough pee to wet the stick, and then waited.

Same result.

She. Was. Pregnant.

The lights shone a little brighter, and the earth-toned colors of her bathroom seemed more vivid. She had thought she would never have Tristan's child, and yet, inside her, right now, was a tiny new life she and Tristan had created together. It was a miracle. A flipping miracle!

Josie shut off the bathroom light and wandered in a daze to the kitchen, where she plopped down on a bar stool at the open counter and thumbed blindly through one of Tristan's gun magazines. She wasn't looking at the pictures, though. She didn't see the pages at all. She was too caught up in the wonder of being pregnant to see much of anything.

For any female to become pregnant with a vampire's young when he hadn't had a
calling
was almost unheard of. It was so rare that, after their conversation almost a century ago, both she and Tristan had resigned themselves to the fact that if they wanted children of their own, they would have to adopt. They had even attempted the vampire's equivalent of in vitro without success. So to now be sitting here, with a little baby in the first stages of life inside her belly, was life altering. Josie was numb.

So many emotions rolled through her she couldn't distinguish one from another. Joy, fear, worry, elation, relief, wonder. How did she begin to process how she felt?

Suddenly, she burst into tears and laughter all at once. She was going to have a baby. Tristan's baby.
Thank you, God!

* * *

Tristan settled behind his desk in his office, ready to start the team meeting.

"Where's Micah?" he said.

Everyone was there except Micah. As usual. Goddamn it. He thought that taking another mate would get Micah back on track, but it seemed more and more like Micah was falling back into his pre-Jackson, post-Katarina ways. And didn't that just reek of trouble. Micah had been the resident loner for centuries after the death of his first mate, Katarina, and even though Micah was the best enforcer on the team, Tristan didn't need any more problems from the guy.

"Well?" Tristan glanced around the room.

Io sighed as if he didn't give a rat's ass. Beside him, Arion shook his head. Off to the side, standing against the wall with his arms crossed and a matchstick between his lips, Trace didn't even flinch. That left Malek, Micah's oldest friend.

"Malek? Have you seen him?"

Malek shrugged. "Not since last night."

Tristan huffed and sat back, pen in hand. He needed Io to stay in and run intel, but if Micah didn't show up that meant Io would need to hit the field. They were already shorthanded and needed to add more members to the team, so he didn't need
No-Show Micah
to play his stupid shit games right now.

"Well then. We'll just wait," Tristan said, his irritation and temper rising.

"What if he doesn't show up at all?" Io said, leaning back and getting cozy in his chair.

"Then we'll wait all goddamn night!" Tristan stood and threw his pen on his desk. It bounced and flew across the room.

Trace's gaze followed it as it slid across the floor to stop in front of the door.

Tristan paced to the back of the windowless room and leaned against the wall, impatience oozing from every pore. He'd had enough of Micah. The guy was a walking time bomb who might or might not show up, depending on how he felt. He'd been like this for what seemed like forever, but now he was getting worse, and he feared they were all on a countdown to implosion. He knew Micah and Jackson had been arguing a lot, but this was expected since Micah had formed a mating bond to Jackson and Jackson hadn't bonded back. Now it looked like things were about to come to a head.

Ten minutes passed by the time Micah finally graced them with his presence. He stopped when he saw the pen on the floor, cracked a bemused grin, bent down, picked it up, and set it on Tristan's desk, taking his seat as if nothing was wrong.

"Nice of you to join us," Tristan said.

"No problem." Micah met his gaze with ice in his dark blue eyes.

"Selfish prick," Arion grumbled beside him. "Get your shit toge—"

Micah cut him off with a fist to the face. "Fuck off, Ari."

The room exploded with male vampire aggression, which made human testosterone outbursts look like kittens compared to lions. Io tore out of his seat and shoved Ari aside to take a swing at Micah, who kicked his chair over as he blocked Io's fist and shoved him back. Trace leaped into the fray and grabbed Micah by the shoulders to pull him away before he could turn Io's face into hamburger. Malek jumped between them, arms extended both ways as buffers.

"Enough of this shit!" Tristan pounded his fist on his desk. "Sit!" He shot daggers at both Io and Micah, but especially at Micah. "Ari! Io! Nix the editorial commentary. Micah, calm the fuck down. You
are
being a selfish prick. We've been waiting for fifteen goddamn minutes on your late ass. Don't you think we'd rather be out doing our jobs?"