His Dark Knights - SNIPPET

Arthur hid in the shadows of moonlight to watch Lady Guinevere pass with her chambermaids, his yearning greater than it ever was around other humans. This woman was different, with the sway of her dress as she stepped delicately across the earth, almost floating, and the way her eyes took in the world with an excited innocence. The sight of her caused his long, sharp teeth to protrude in spite of himself. More than anything, he wanted to taste her blood. 

But no, there was one thing he wanted more—to see that she was never harmed. For him to be the one that brought her said harm, to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck and drain her blood, tasting its sweet iron as it replenished him… there could be no worse fate for either of them.

That’s why, aside from public appearances with her by his side, he kept his distance. 

And he ordered his knights do the same. All worse than him, letting their cravings for human flesh get the better of them. 

Not with her, because he was their king and had ordered it so. It probably helped that she was Merlin’s niece, and if anyone harmed her, the wizard would certainly retire his robes for his old paladin armor and holy sword. 

Stakes through the heart were nothing compared to the spells of a paladin. 

“We’re behind schedule,” Lancelot, his most trusted Knight, hissed down from where he perched on a nearby rooftop. “If we’re discovered—”

“Merlin’s wrath. I don’t need you to lecture me on such matters.”

Lancelot swooped down, landing gracefully beside Arthur, his king. But the knight’s eyes spoke nothing of loyalty, at times like this, and Arthur didn’t fail to notice. 

“My scars remind me of our duty,” Lancelot said. “Perhaps you’d do well to have some of your own.” 

“Threatening your king?” Arthur scoffed, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You forget your place.”

“Not threatening, sire,” Lancelot said with a bow of his head. “Simply, urging, us to move. Now.”

Arthur breathed deep, letting the moment drift away and take his anger with it. Lancelot wasn’t to blame for the agitation at their lot in life—vampires by night, forced like puppets to do the will of Merlin, the great magician to the public, the corrupt and conniving paladin to those who really knew him. 

His spell held them to it—a fact that they meant to end this night. 

“Yes, let’s not be late,” Arthur said, keenly aware of the fact that Merlin’s watchful eyes were everywhere. Curse him and his magic. Any moment now the old wizard would notice the larger than normal number of vampire knights outside of his keep. 

Arthur spun, red cape flowing behind him in the cool spring breeze, and led Lancelot back to the others where they crouched in the shadows. 

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