The Billionaire's Baby (Key to My Heart Book 3) (8 page)

Chapter One

Few people knew 
his
 name.

It was legend that the Prince of the North once spoke it on his hushed lips before coldness ran through his royal veins and the Prince’s limp body hit the Earth. Those who saw the events of that chilly day unfold swore up and down that they saw 
his
 pale face in the crowd of people as their fine Prince met his death.

Actually, it rather seemed to most that his name was a curse. Those who spoke it were destined to die.

War had ravaged the once yellow speckled, billowy fields of Landrian after the death of the Prince to the north. Nothing remained but smoldering ruins of villages and people in the battle’s wake.

The snows of winter had come fast and hard this year, as the slim figure of a man watched the destruction with bored, black eyes.

He was used to ruin and violence, he was used to the smell of death, he no longer ached with the sharp pain of loss. He was not human, he had no use for such things as feelings any longer.

The days grew shorter and shorter, each gust of wind bursting with coldness. Night seemed to be everlasting, which was just fine for him. He lived in the night, empowered by the rays of the cold moon.

Night was the time for hunting.

The crinkle of dry autumn leaves roused him sleepily from his position high up in a fairly naked apple tree, where none of the red fruits had grown in quite some time due to the chilly weather, and where hardly any of the long-rotted brown leaves still clung on their last breath to the high, twisted branches.

An especially cold winter was bearing its icy tendrils deep into the country of Landrian; a small, peaceful country sitting against the border of Corsentil.

Corsentil, itself, was not exactly the largest country in their world either - but it was powerful, and it was quick to hate, and this made it feared. They’d been especially virulent since the murder of their Prince, and Landrian had felt the brunt of this.

The people of that rough land were known for aggressiveness and being extremely vengeful for even the slightest of grievances, while Landrian, aside from strict border patrol between itself and the belligerent Corsentil, was much more calm and passive.

Instead of the carefully mapped out cities and bustling towns of its northern neighbor, Landrian was made up of tiny villages strewn haphazardly across its hilly forests. There were hardly even dirt roads to connect them. Despite a ruling King, the villages of Landrian generally governed themselves. Conflict between the remote communities was rare and mostly handled independently. In fact, many young children of Landrian had no idea what their King looked like, many did not even know his name.

It was this seclusion and disconnectedness that caused the odd young man to take Landrian as his home, though he did not frequently spend his evenings lounging in foliage.

He yawned almost silently and stretched his lithe arms in the air, letting himself fall limp backwards after a moment, legs locked around the thick branch he'd been perched on. As he swung downwards toward the harsh, waiting embrace of the browning ground below, he let his legs flick free of the branch, landing like a gymnast on a lower branch.

His eyes quickly searched out the source of the noise below him - a tiny figure huddling inside of a thick, dark green cloak away from the frosty wind.

'Perfect.' He mused lightly to himself, observing the figure in growing curiosity.

The person was tiny, probably ten or twelve years old, definitely child sized. The little kid would at least serve as a snack.

However, one thing nagged at the back of the man's mind – what kind of parents would let some defenseless kid wander around in a forest as big as this one? It was a mistake they would soon come to regret.

A low, content grumble of a laugh left his lips he leapt lower and lower till he was on the branch closest to the ground, eyes skimming intensely around him into the darkness of the night, a darkness that was all too welcome to him.

Surely, the child would not be alone. Whoever owned the kid lived somewhere near, they always were. Perhaps he could pay them a nice little visit when he was done with the child.

The youngster wouldn't be a snack, the beast of a man decided with a lick of his lips, but more of an appetizer. He could feel his stomach rumbling with anxious desire. It’d been a long time since a proper feeding.

The people of Landrian were sick and scrawny, their blood too metallic with illness to be delicious.

He bent down to almost a crouch, grabbing the branch he stood on and swinging himself down onto the ground, landing with a light thump on a patch of brown grass.

One sharpened fang slipped over his bottom lip, giving him a more goofy look than threatening. Had the child noticed him, it probably would have giggled.

That simple sharpened canine however, only visible for a few short seconds, was the only hint to what this young man truly was, for other than that he looked completely human. An average human at that, he’d turn no heads walking through a crowd of mortals.

His eyes and hair were dark, though not unnaturally so. He was somewhat pale, but he'd met victims of his which were much more pallid then himself and certainly more human. His slightly blanched face certainly was handsome, but not unearthly. He did not dress in any strange sort of way, no thick jacket to hide from the sun of the day or the cold of the night; instead, he wore a simple tan long sleeved shirt and dark brown pants with laced leather shoes. Had he strode into the nearest village no one would have taken more than a second glance at him.

His age was harder to pinpoint. There was a certain youthful air about him. The arrogance and all-knowing in his gaze could put him just over eighteen, or even into his early twenties. The question was often met with a slow, predatory smirk. Those who asked, after all, would not enjoy his answer.

Though rather ordinary looking, he was graceful however, like a cat, and for that he was grateful for his undead gift.

The sound of feet hitting the ground was enough to alert the child a yard or so in front of him however, for the kid stopped short and stiffened, the cloak suddenly tightening around them. This gave the pale man no pause, however, and he continued onward.

The man strode forward towards the child who appeared to be listening intently to his approach, though refusing to turn around and face him, until he towered over the tiny figure. In the limp light of the moon hanging over them, the man cast a daunting shadow onto the ground before the child.

"Hey, kiddo." He murmured, tone low and undeniably intimidating, though he didn't purposely mean it to be. He didn't want to scare the poor kid to death before he had a chance to kill it himself. That was part of the fun after all, "Wanna play?"

Slowly, the child turned and the man could see green eyes slightly clouded in nervousness peeking up at him from an impish, freckled face.

Before the kid could react the man grabbed its elbow, nearly lifting the child off of its feet. The youth gave a feminine cry of worry, though this didn't extract any kind of reaction from the man, for all he knew the child being female would only make her crimson life liquid taste sweeter. He could see it now, the tan caramels of her face drained sallow, eyes bleak and lifeless while his belly was full and satiated.

He bent closer, trying to get a peek at his newly captured prey, expecting the typical frightened and confused eyes that children most often rewarded him with.

This girl did not respond the way he'd been excitedly expecting however, those eyes with which he looked so enthusiastically into were not frightened, in fact, their green depths were rather furious.

Before he could respond he suddenly found her tiny palm swinging forward, slapping the unexpecting vampire hard across the face, causing him to relinquish his rough hold on her small arm in surprise. The girl took off the moment she felt freedom of his cool touch, though the vampire refused to be far behind.

Despite the violence, the man wasn't agitated though. In truth, he was far from irritation actually.

He loved it when his snacks became so feisty, it made it all the more fun to catch them… and kill them.

He caught up with her easily, running alongside the now slightly panicking child with ease, feet practically gliding over the snow. It would be good to knock back that temper of hers just a bit.

"How old are ya, kid?" He asked, dodging around a tree and resuming his place at her side.

To her credit she was a fast little thing even in the grips of the deep snow, though not fast enough to get away.

She was stubbornly silent, stubbornly incompliant, and the stubborn frown that he could see on her face didn't aid in her plight as, slowly, the fun of chasing the mute girl ran out.

With a bored sigh, he lightly tackled her, albeit a bit harder than he meant to, sending both of their bodies skidding across the forest floor. He allowed the child's body to take most of the damage, practically riding on top of her as though she were a sled, till they came to a skidding stop at the base of a tree.

He smirked, looking down at the tiny girl under him, who seemed to be just clinging to consciousness, glaring up at him dangerously again. Yet, she still refused to speak to him.

An ounce of blood trickled down her forehead, appearing from the crazed red curls framing her face.

"If you beg I might let you go." He said softly, and though his voice sounded sincere it was an empty promise.

He never let anyone get away. He'd made that mistake once, and never again would he do that. He let his fingers stroke red strands of hair that stuck to her face with the gentleness of an intimate lover.

The vampire leant down, icy tongue licking away the scarlet droplets from above her eyebrow with a satisfied hum of indulgence.

The girl glared up at him mulishly, seemingly aware of his lie. Or she was simply too stubborn to lower her pride for five minutes, either was infuriating.

The man quickly grew impatient once again with her incessant silence, gripping her shoulders tightly. It wasn't like him to make children suffer, but this one child was completely intolerable. He was positive he was hurting her, he could see the tiny pinpricks of blood seeping through her shirt where his sharp, vulturine nails dug into her skin, but her intense emerald glare remained locked onto his face, mocking him.

"Oh, come on, kid!" The vampire cried in frustration, shoving her shoulders hard into the dirt with a frustrated growl. She was taking absolutely all of the fun out of his hunt.

"I'm not a kid!" She finally retorted, anger bursting back into her face, "Don't call me that!"

"You've got some stranger practically about to kill you and that's all that you can think about?! Me calling you a kid!" The man’s face almost sank into his palm, what the hell was this girl’s problem?

"Don't. You. Dare. Call. Me. That." She hissed, threatening as an alley cat, voice rising an irate octave, "I'm not one!"

"Fine, how old is the big girl now? A whole fourteen years old?" The vampire purred, egging on her tantrum. She may deny being a child, but she was huffing and puffing like one.

Fourteen would be pushing it though, he believed, eyeing her tiny, flat frame. The poor girl had no curves what so ever.

"I'm almost nineteen!" She responded angrily, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, squirming under his scrutiny.

The newly flabbergasted vampire gawked openly at her, taking in her childish body then looking at her face, "You've got to be kidding me. There's absolutely no way that you're nineteen."

"Well I'm not nineteen yet…" She mumbled, cheeks flushing slightly, "still got a couple more months."

The vampire only continued staring for a moment before words found him again, "Well you've about as much body to you as a twelve year old boy. And a scrawny one at that." He mumbled, blinking when he felt the familiar sting of a slap against his face once more.

"Hey now!" He cried, "Quit doing that! You've got as much manners as a twelve year old boy too."

The resounding sound of yet another slap echoed.

"Who raised you?! Is this how you treat someone who could kill you?"

Slap.

"What the hell is wrong with you, kid? You're really pushing it now!"
Slap
.

That was enough for the agitated vampire, who took the girl's hands and pinned them above her head, shoving his face so close to her own that she elicited a tiny 'eep' noise of surprise when their noses brushed.

"Listen up, kiddo." He muttered in a serious, low voice, "That's enough of that. You 
dare
 hit me again and you'll find yourself headlong into that tree over there so fast that you won't know what hit you."

The vampire enjoyed personally draining the life out of his victims, he was generous that way. For this infuriating little imp of a girl though, he would make an exception. He gestured with a nod of his head to a tree about six or seven feet away, narrowing dark eyes on her own emerald ones.

"I'm not a kid!" She repeated, ignoring everything else he said.