Page 55 of Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Prince

“Oh!” Sylvie sat up, eyes bright. “Like how wolf shifters’ skin glows during the moon cycle?”

“Exactly!” I swiped to another slide. “And how vampire glamour creates this ethereal effect or how fox shifters have that subtle shimmer. I made these mock-ups…”

I found myself getting excited as I showed her the designs, the concepts I’d stayed up late perfecting. “I thought Archer would like this part especially—see how the typography shifts based on species? And here, I added some humor because you know how he loves…”

I trailed off, realizing I’d been rambling. About Archer.

Sylvie gave me a gentle smile. “He’ll love it, Luca. They all will.”

“If they ever see it,” I mumbled, picking at the blanket’s fringe. A cool breeze rustled the wind chimes, their crystal song somehow melancholic.

“They’re just busy,” Sylvie said, but she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. “You know how it gets with territory negotiations and stuff.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. Above us, more butterflies danced through the morning light, free and unburdened by complicated feelings for their adopted brothers.

The sun climbed higher as we worked, warming my skin and making the fountain’s spray glitter like diamonds. I lost myself in the presentation, adding little touches I thought would make each brother smile—clean data visualization for Ryker, bold impact statements for Zane, and playful elements for Archer.

“Are those… chibi vampire mascots?” Sylvie peered over my shoulder, grinning.

“Maybe?” I felt my cheeks warm. “I thought they’d make the statistical slides less boring. Archer always says corporate presentations need more…”

My voice caught. Would he even see these?

A shadow fell across my tablet. “Lunch is served, Prince,” Harrison announced, gesturing to the elegant spread Benedict had arranged near the fountain. Tiny pastries, delicate finger sandwiches, and a crystal pitcher of something that sparkled crimson in the sunlight.

“They’re not coming back for lunch, are they?” I asked quietly after Harrison had gone.

Sylvie set aside her sketchbook. “Luca…”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “They’re busy. Important. Running an empire and all that.”

“You’re important too,” Sylvie insisted, but she couldn’t quite hide her concern.

I forced a smile, pretending to be very interested in the elegant lunch spread. I sipped at my blood, but even my favorite type tasted bland and lifeless. Nothing like what Iimagined Zane’s blood would taste like—midnight and starlight. Or Ryker’s—lightning and storm clouds. Or…

“Thanks for having lunch with me,” I said, setting down my barely touched crystal glass. “I think I’ll work in my room for a while.”

“Luca…” Sylvie hesitated, her sketches forgotten.

“Really, I’m fine.” I gathered my tablet, trying to ignore how the blood roses seemed to mock me with their vibrant red petals. “I have that presentation to finish anyway.”

Her worried gaze followed me as I fled the garden, leaving behind the butterflies and sunshine for the safety of my little sanctuary.

The afternoon light slanted through my office windows, painting golden stripes across the antique desk. I’d spread my work across every available surface, trying to lose myself in color schemes and typography choices rather than think about three conspicuously absent alphas.

“Prince?” Benedict’s soft knock startled me. “Would you like your evening blood warmed?”

I glanced at the clock, surprised to find the sun already setting. Had I really spent hours obsessing over font choices and pretending not to check my phone?

“Mr. Harrison asked me to inform you…” Benedict hesitated. “The young masters won’t be returning for dinner tonight.”

Something twisted in my chest. “Oh. Of course. They must be busy with…” I waved vaguely at nothing. “Important alpha stuff. I’ll take my blood here,” I said quickly. “I want to finish this section while it’s fresh in my mind.”

He nodded, but I caught his concerned look before he left. The same look Sylvie had given me in the garden. The same look probably everyone would give me at dinner if I showed up to face another empty table.

The evening shadows grew longer as I curled up in my window seat, tablet propped against my knees. A sparkly dragon plushie sat beside me like a silent supporter while I pretended to work instead of staring at the city lights spreading out below.

A soft knock interrupted my brooding. “Your evening blood, Prince,” Benedict said, setting an elegant crystal glass on my side table.

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