Page 4 of Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Prince

Everything felt sharper, more intense. The morning light created rainbow prisms through crystal chandeliers—multiplechandeliers! 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 waseverythingso tall?

I slid off carefully, knees wobbling like a newborn deer. The carpet—soft lavender, 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 andtoo 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 prince ever and combined them into one impossibly ethereal 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 yaoi before bed. Probably shouldn’t have read that vampire romance right before sleeping.

The young man in the mirror wore an oversized sleep shirt that hung off one shoulder and shorts so short they barely peeked out from beneath the hem, all in soft lavender cotton. But what really caught my attention was how… petite I was. Delicate. Where I had been five foot ten before, inheriting my dad’s height and standing comfortably above average among my male coworkers, this body felt barely five foot six. 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 four inches 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 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, Luca, 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 inLifestyles 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 gray 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 prince. 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 crystalfountains, 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 dewdrops 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-gray 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 Luca. No eating the hot garden man.

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