The Silver Eyed Prince (Highest Royal Coven of Europe) (14 page)

She showed him he didn't matter, gave him the cut-direct, and walked on as if he never existed. He could still hear the words that ran through his head as he fled the ballroom.

You are nothing... You're not good enough...

He loved her and she made a fool of him. Damn her! Damn her snooty, superficial mother! To hell with European Royals and their vanity. He would make them pay! He would sever the only source of their superior bloodline by abducting the Pure Ones and using them to breed his own clan of pure bloods! Soon, his clan would become the dominant breed and every single Royal Coven in the world, including those despicable, haughty Royal Covens of Europe would vie for his kinship!

He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. To wi
tness the fall of the Europeans into an irrelevant, cowering, inferior class would be the most glorious day of his life!

“Your Grace?” Lieutenant Jones and two cadets came storming through the door. “Are you all right?” The Lieutenant darted his eyes to the shards of glass scattered on the floor.

“Yes.” John Drake raised a hand to mollify them. “Ring for the maids to clean this up,” he ordered the cadet behind the Lieutenant.

“Is there anything else you need, Your Grace?” Lieutenant Jones asked.

“Yes,” John nodded, his eyes riveted to the image of the woman who had aroused the bitterness that punctured the gaping hole in his heart. “Notify Major Reynolds that I am flying at once to America to visit an old friend.”

Fundamentals Class with Dr. Jeff

       Elizabeth sat in the front row with Ben and Lela when a lanky gentleman with tousled blond hair and a white lab coat entered the classroom. He wrote
Fun Da Mental
on the white board
.
“Are you guys ready to have fun while learning?” He turned sideways and cupped his hand behind his ear.

“Yes!”

“Awesome!” He grinned facing the class. “I'm Doctor Jeffrey Murphy. Welcome to Fundamentals One, where you'll discover your inborn abilities that come from here.” He tapped his temple with a forefinger. “You will learn the art of self-discipline that will help you co-mingle with humans without endangering them.”

“But before we begin—” He walked towards the teacher’s table and peered at the paper on top. “Mr. Chad Alistair?”

Elizabeth followed Dr. Jeff's gaze. A tall guy with golden hair to his shoulders stood from the far corner. He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt and distressed jeans that emphasized his athletic build.

“Yum-yum.” Ben sighed dreamily next to her.

“Let's add him to the menu,” Lela whispered.

“Ah, there you are,” Dr. Jeff said. “Chad is an e
xchange student from—ah—?” He rummaged through the pile of papers on his desk.

“Tactical Defense Institute. American Battalion Seventeen!” Chad su
pplied in a clear voice.

“Right!” Dr. Jeff concurred, ignoring the murmurs that emanated in the room. “Why don't you tell us about yourself, Mr. Alistair?”

“Sure.” Chad faced the class. “Hello,” he smiled, revealing a dimple on his chin. “I'm Chad Alistair, a junior from Tactical Defense.”

Cute dimple,
Elizabeth thought, assessing his face. It softened his chiseled features that reminded her of the marble sculpture of St. Michael the Archangel in the lobby. Except—, she noted carefully, for those sharp scarlet eyes that even his long curly lashes could not tame.
An angel's face with the eyes of the devil,
she mused, intrigued by the newcomer.

“I earned enough credits to qual
ify for the exchange student program,” Chad was saying, “we get to attend our school of choice for a year and write a thesis about our experience before we go back to the Tactical Defense Institute.”

“Congratulations and welcome to Darian Hall.” Dr. Jeff stuffed his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Glad to have a fellow Descendant in the room. Let's start the fun, shall we?” Without warning, he yanked five golf balls from his pockets and pitched them all at once to Chad.

The balls sliced through the air with an audible swish, curving towards the back of the classroom where Chad stood.

Elizabeth gasped and swiveled on her chair to see him catch the first and second easily.

He jumped on his desk to catch the third, somersaulted in the air for the fourth, and caught the fifth before it hit the floor.

“Holy bajezus!” Carlos' solitary comment echoed in the shocked silence in the room.

Elizabeth gaped at the new student. He was surprisingly agile in spite of his muscular physique. He casually flicked his head to dislodge a lock of golden hair that fell on his brow.

“Reflexes!” Dr. Jeff exclaimed with delight. “Our first lesson in Fundamentals One.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and tugged them wide open for Chad, who pitched the balls back into Dr. Jeff's pockets with a rapid
tak-tak-tak!

Clapping and whistling filled the classroom.

“Thank you, Mr. Alistair, for waking up the class and showing us a sample of tactical skills.” Dr. Jeff laughed. “Now, who can tell me what a
Reflex
is?” He surveyed the room then tossed a ball at Ishmael. “Mr. Johnson?”

“Reflex is a response to stimulus?” he replied, catching the ball before it hit the guitar slung on the back of his chair.

“Yes! It is an instinctive reaction. Let's see who else has good reflexes.” Dr. Jeff randomly sized up students in the front row. “Ah, Mr. Ben Walker, Miss Lela Ikeda, and Mr. Jared Crowe!” He threw balls in rapid succession at them.

Elizabeth watched as Jared caught his and Lela fumble with hers. Ben ducked, avoiding it altogether.

Tak!

“Aw!” Carlos grumbled behind Ben, massaging his forehead. “What did you do that for?” He picked up the golf ball and tossed it to Dr. Jeff.

“I didn't want to break my nails,” Ben said over his shoulder.

“Oh, really?” Carlos made a face. “So you’d rather break my forehead?”

“Ow-kayyy! Mr. Guerrero, Mr. Walker!” Dr. Jeff quickly intervened, ignoring the rash of giggles in the room. “Let's move on, shall we?” He launched another ball towards the middle row. “Mr. Bart Hammerstein—any ideas on how we can improve our reflexes?”

“Uh ... through constant practice?” Bart replied, r
eturning the ball to Dr. Jeff.

“Yes!” Dr. Jeff wrote
Proficiency
on the board. “Diligent training will condition you to master your reaction time. Anything else? Yes, Miss Weber?”

“Increased awareness?” Jill twis
ted a copper-colored curl with a forefinger.

“Correct!” Dr.
Jeff jotted down
Sensory Awareness
. “You must learn to use your sharp senses to
anticipate
the stimuli. Listen, smell, and feel your enemy. Survey your environment to figure out your next move.” He glanced about the room. “Any more?”

“How about concentration?” Eliz
abeth asked.

“That's the most important thing!” Dr. Jeff scri
bbled
Focalization
. “After gathering information using your senses, you need to filter the data in order to
recognize
the
focal stimuli
. Trust your instincts. Alleviate your fears so you can judge if the danger is
within
your capacity to defend yourself.”

“What if it's not?” Julie Ann, who sat next to her boyfriend, Jared Crowe, asked.

“Then you better run like there's no tomorrow.” Dr. Jeff pointed the marker at her. “Which reminds me—,” he went back to his desk and peered at his planner, “our next lesson will be on reflex management around humans.”

The bell chimed.

“Please practice what you've learned today.” Dr. Jeff gathered the documents on his desk. “I'll see you on Thursday.”

Angel with the Eyes of the Devil

       Elizabeth gathered her things and followed Ben, Carlos, and Lela to the hallway. They descended the wide, winding staircase that led to the dining hall.

“There's the Primary area.” Ben pointed at the long tables underneath a burgundy flag cascading from the ceiling with their grade level printed on it.

Elizabeth swept her gaze throughout the gym-sized hall. Every grade level was color-coded; hunter green for secondary, blue for juniors, silver for seniors, and gold for Royals. The colors lent a cheerful atmosphere, enhanced by several brightly lit chandeliers overhead. Lela led the way and found them some seats.

Elizabeth craned her neck towards the gold area and caught a glimpse of Prince William. He was smiling at the beautiful Lady Catherine and she was clinging to his arm. Elizabeth hastily returned her attention to her friends, swallowing the unexpected flare of a
nnoyance she felt at the intimate scene.

“Isn't this fun?” Ben spun his hand in a wide circle about the room. “Love the colors!”

“You ain't seen nothin' yet.” Carlos nodded towards the center of the wide table.

Elizabeth watched in amazement as the middle segment sunk in and then rose up again, bearing silver trays.

“Grab yours.” Lela nudged her.

Elizabeth reached for the tray nearest to her and stared at the go
blet and small bowl with a soupspoon next to it. A white linen napkin was neatly folded on the right side.

“We're having chicken today.” Ca
rlos unfolded his napkin and tucked it in front of his shirt.

“Chicken?” Elizabeth gave him a questioning glance.

“That's the appetizer.” Ben pointed at the contents of the small bowl with his spoon. “And this is the entrée.” He tapped the goblet.

“The entrée is the usual—, human blood,” Lela i
nterjected. “But they give us other varieties for appetizers to condition our palate to the taste. You know—, in case you encounter a sudden craving and you're out of the usual fare.”

Elizabeth grabbed her spoon, sa
mpled the appetizer, and then spit it back into the bowl. “Yuck! Gross!” she exclaimed with a grimace.

Lela took a sip from her goblet and urged her to do the same.

Elizabeth placed her soupspoon face down on the edge of her tray and took a big gulp from her goblet.

“It tastes nasty at first,” Carlos said between swa
llows, “but you'll get used to it. You should never let yourself go thirsty even if it is the only choice available.”

“Why?” Elizabeth asked, still wincing from the gamey taste.

“Because if you do, you’ll lose control.” Ben made crazy circles with his eyes. “Humans will suddenly smell like food, and then you’ll get tempt—.” He arched a penciled eyebrow and planted his hands on his hips. “Don't you know these things? You're supposed to be a Deimon!”

Carlos and Lela stopped eating and gaped at her, goblets suspended in mid-air.

Elizabeth paused from wiping her mouth with the table napkin.

Would they understand if she told them that she just turned into one about a week ago? Maybe yes—, but then again—, maybe not. What if they toss her out of their clique? God knows she needed friends right now!

Flustered, she bumped off her spoon, which fell with a loud clang on the granite floor. She quickly bent down to retrieve it, thankful for the distraction, but another hand had already done so.

“I got it,” a low male voice said.

Elizabeth looked up and found herself staring at the face of an archangel with eyes the color of deep blood red. He was on one knee, merely inches away from her.

“Yours?” He held up the spoon.

“Y-yeah,” Elizabeth took it and mumbled a quick “Thanks.” before sitting on her chair.

“I'm Chad.” He stood up to his full height.

“Elizabeth,” she replied, thinking how much taller he was up close. He had broad shoulders, sinewy arms, and his straight blond hair shined like a golden halo beneath the bright chandeliers.

Loud fits of coughing suddenly attacked Lela and Ben.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes heavenward. “By the way, these are my friends—, Lela, Ben, and Carlos.”

“Hey there.” Chad waved at Lela and Ben, and then did a fist bump with Carlos before turning his attention back to Elizabeth. “Nice meeting you. See you guys in class.” He gave her a dimpled smile.

“Bye,” Elizabeth replied. “Thanks again.”

He nodded and strolled away.

“Meeowwrrza!” Ben panted with his tongue sticking out as he made clawing motions after Chad.

“I think he likes you.” Lela e
lbowed Elizabeth.

Elizabeth crinkled her brow and snorted. “Don't be ridiculous! He was just being nice.”

“Nah-hah!” Carlos piped in. “He was giving you,
The Eyes,
he stressed the words by flexing his middle and index fingers into quotation marks in the air.
 

“I would jump on him A-S-A-P if I were you,” Ben said.