Chapter 36

“Sure, but I drink only from one human, and something tells me she is in short supply of blood, so you, my friend, are going to teach me how to drive today in that fancy car of yours,” Michael said, patting Paris on the back.
“I already have plans,” Paris said, his eyes meeting Ann as the rest of the group caught up.
Michael looked at Ann and then back at Paris. “It was not a request.”
“Down boys,” Ann said, smiling, kind of liking the fact that the two of them are fighting over her.
“Look at you, going from no boyfriends to two fighting over you,” Jessica joked.
“Well, the sooner they learn to share, the better,” Ann winked at Michael before brushing past him, walking out of the school building.
“She is not serious?” Michael asked, looking at Jessica.
“She kind of is,” Paris said, walking after Ann.
“You can either share her or not have her at all, is the way I see it,” Deacon laughed.
“Oh, so you are willing to share Jessica with Wynn, then?” Michael asked.
“It is different for us,” Deacon said, absolutely not willing to share Jessica.
Jessica turned to Deacon and stopped him from leaving the school building after the rest of their group left.
“Let’s get something clear; I will never be yours! Ever!” Jessica gave him a little shove with her one hand, remembering what he said at the castle; that he will f*ck her in wolf form to produce offspring for his brothers.
Deacon grabbed her hand and wanted to threaten her. He wanted to remind her who was king, but when he saw the flash of fear in her eyes; he held his tongue and let go of her hand.
Stubbornly, Jessica left the school building and headed over to her mom’s car, her real mother and father already inside, in the back. Jessica rolled her eyes at the sight of her parents before getting in.
Prince Deacon watched her get into the car and realized that everyone has left, not even caring about him, “guess I deserve that.” He said out loud to himself.
“Deserve what?” Mr. Ondrink’s voice came from behind.
“Ondrink,’” Deacon acknowledged him.
“Here, it is Mr. Ondrink,” he chuckled.
Deacon looked at Mr. Ondrink walking past him.
“Well, need a ride?” Mr. Ondrink asked, looking around at Deacon.
Deacon looked at the bus that just pulled off, “yes.”
“So, what is your back story?” Mr. Ondrink asked on his way to his car.
“Backstory?” Deacon asked, confused as Mr. Ondrink knew his back story, well most of it.
“The backstory you tell the people of the town. Do you have pretend parents?” Mr. Ondrink clarified.
“1940?” Deacon asked getting into Mr. Ondrink’s classic 1936 Ford Two door.
“1936,” Mr. Ondrink corrected.
“What a year that was,” Deacon remembered his time with a group of she-wolves came to an epic, near-death, end.
Mr. Ondrink can’t think of anything spectacular that happened in his life that year besides being in hiding from the royal Lycan family; Deacon’s family, “who would have thought back then that you will be king today?”
“I know you don’t like me very much, but are you really going to hold the sins of my parents against me?” Deacon asked.
Mr. Ondrink just ignored him, ‘better to keep my mind to myself,’ he thought, but his facial expression said he had a whole lot on his chest.
“Do you know how to turn a hybrid into a vampire, killing their were-animal part?” Deacon asked, changing the subject.
“I know what you did with Wynn and no, I did not know about it before I learned what you and your brothers did,” Mr. Ondrink confessed.
“All this time and no one knew. I am surprised that you didn’t know. I would have at least thought King, well, Torvald would have known,” Deacon said, trying to keep the conversation going.
“How did you acquire the information?” Mr. Ondrink wondered.
“Another Shaman, Kian. He was actually sold to the same enchantress as Prince Mitch. It was because of him that Mitch managed to escape. I only found out when the council was under attack,” Deacon said.
“Didn’t he get caught again?” Mr. Ondrink remembered.
“Yes, for a brief moment before his wife, or was it his girlfriend? Anyways, she died trying to save him, turned out she was the offspring of a prehistoric vampire,” Deacon thought back at the horrible scene.
“And a Blue Blood,” Mr. Ondrink reminded him.
“Claire,” Deacon thought back to the human princess that was Torvald’s wife that ran away and then somehow got knocked up by a Prehistoric Vampire. “It just dawned on me that the father of Claire’s child was Trovald.
“Why would a shaman give you the key to kill the were-animal of a hybrid?” Mr. Ondrink asked, not liking the topic as he never did approve of humans with royal bloodlines being married off like livestock; also remembering how Deacon’s mother, Queen Lindey, tried to force his wife to give her eggs to create more royal Lycans.
“Because he hates hybrids; hybrids worked for the Enchantress that tried to enslave him. Hybrids are also the ones that kept on tracking his small pack down, trying to capture them and sell them off as rogues,” Deacon explained.
“So now he blames all hybrids? Did he say how he got the information?” Mr. Ondrink asked.
“Left here,” Deacon directed Mr. Ondrink into his street. “Shaman Kian’s pack managed to set a trap for a few hybrids that were tracking them and attempt to burn them to death, only to find them in Vampire form when night fell upon the burnt bodies of wolves. At first, they thought that they failed, but when morning came, the sun burned the flesh of their bones.” Deacon retold the story that Shaman Kian told him.
“Interesting,” Mr. Ondrink said, coming to a T-junction, waiting for directions.
“Left again, number 3,” Deacon said. “You know Wynn and I have been trying for years to find a way to kill his wolf's side without killing him,” Deacon tried to justify his actions.
“Why?” Mr. Ondrink asked.
“I don’t know; I was just helping him, he never told me why,” Deacon said, thinking on it.

“It is a shame. I always thought there was more to him. Like maybe he was the King of kings,” Mr. Ondrink said.
“King of Kings?” Deacon laughed.
Mr. Ondrink swallowed his words, stopping in front of Deacon’s house.
“Thanks for the ride,” Deacon said, getting out of the car.
Mr. Ondrink drove off without another word, thinking it was best to ignore the new King for now, ‘as long as he does not force himself into my mind,’ Mr. Ondrink thought while driving.
Deacon walked up the stairs of his three-story house, ‘I should have gone for a smaller place,’ he thought to himself, unlocking his front door.
Before he went inside, he noticed his neighbor waving at him and he gave her a quick wave back before going inside.
‘I should get myself some parents if I am to pull this off. Wonder if Mr. Ondrink knows anyone,’ Deacon thought to himself, going into his big kitchen to make some dinner.
When the weekend came Deacon asked Wynn to take him to go buy a car, hoping that he can rekindle their lost friendship.
“Are you mad at me?” Deacon broke the silence, on their way to a car dealership.
“No,” Wynn said truthfully.
“Not even for stealing your fated mate,” Deacon confirmed.
“Not even,” Wynn responded again, but this time he was not so sure if he believed it himself.
“You don’t sound so sure,’ Deacon picked up on his tone.
“I am glad not to be bound by some bond. Now I can choose who I love and don’t,” Wynn explained.
“That much is true, I guess,” Deacon said.
“So, did you take Michael to go see Theodosia?” Deacon asked as they got out of the car.
“No, Ann stopped him, thank goodness,” Wynn said as they walked into the dealership.
“I don’t think it is a good look on him, the fact that a human gets to control the Vampire King,” Deacon said, checking out a car.
“I think it is perfect. I for one feel better being around him when she is around,” Wynn laughed, opening the car door of a Poche and getting in.
“You guys don’t like me very much, do you?” Prince Deacon asked, getting into the passenger seat.
“I like you, and I think Michael will learn to like you as well. After all, you did declare him King of the Vampires,” Wynn chuckled, rubbing the steering wheel.
“How does it feel to be without your wolf part?” Prince Deacon asked, wondering.
“Good. I don’t have to fear mating with some random chick and fall madly in love, ready to lay my life down for a stranger,” Wynn said.
“I am buying this one,” Wynn declared.
“I am looking for something bigger,” Deacon said, and walked over to a Porsche Macan.
“A family car?” Wynn chuckled and got out of the car he was sitting in.
“More like I plan to have lots of friends,” Deacon chuckled and got into the car.
“Good day, gentlemen,” the salesman greeted.
“I will take this one,” Deacon said.
“There are a few more dealerships. I know this is Barrow but they do have more than one car dealership,” Wynn chuckled.
“I have enough cars back home. I will take this one,” Deacon confirmed and handed over a black card to the salesman, “straight.”
“Driver's license?” the salesman questioned in disbelief.
Both Wynn and Deacon took out their driver's licenses and handed them over.
“You can add that one to the bill as well, but put it on his name.” Deacon pointed at the Porsche that Wynn said he wanted.
“Are you trying to buy my love?” Wynn punched him playfully.
“No,” Deacon laughed.
“I will die for you, bro, no matter how hard you try to make me an enemy,” Wynn assured him.
“I know,” Deacon said, as they followed the salesman to his office.
“Damn, our systems are offline,” the salesman said, bumped that he will be losing the sale.
“No worries. You get everything ready and we will see you Monday?” Wynn put his mind at ease.
“Thank you for understanding,” the salesman smiled.
Wynn drove Deacon home.
“Come in for a drink?” Prince Deacon invited him in when they pulled up to his house.
“Maybe some other time,” Wynn said, but then his eye caught the neighbor, “on second thought, sure, why not.”
Prince Deacon noticed where he was looking. “What is it with you and the older ladies?”
“Oh, please, just because you look young does not mean you are young. Who knows how old I am, so she is actually younger than me,” Wynn said, getting out of the car.
Wynn gave the lady a wink before following Deacon into the house.
“You seriously think she is going to bang a teenager?” Deacon laughed.
“I like to think of myself as a young adult,” Wynn laughed, looking at himself in the mirror in the entryway.
“Beer?” Deacon asked, walking into his kitchen.
“Anything stronger?” Wynn asked, inspecting his features still. “I look at least twenty, right?”
“Sure,” Deacon laughed, pouring two glasses of rum.
Wynn walked into the living room. “Hey, I remember this.” He sat at the piano and played a few notes.
“She still stands after all these years,” Deacon said, putting the glasses of Rum down before sitting next to Wynn and playing alongside him.
“Can’t believe this old lady survived a supernatural war and two human wars,” Wynn said as his fingers danced over the keys.
After playing a short while in perfect harmony, they took their drinks and sat on a couch each.
“I see good times ahead. This town can do with a few house parties,” Wynn said, looking around.
“I doubt the neighbors will approve,” Deacon said, taking a sip of his rum.
“Nothing a little compelling can’t handle and besides, the prehistoric can do with a little introduction,” Wynn said, smiling, already planning the first house party.
“You want to bring a bunch of prehistoric into my house?” Deacon objected.
“Do you like Michael?” Wynn asked.
“Sure. I like the fact that he does not smell dead,” Deacon said, and then it dawned on him that Wynn does not smell dead either, but he kept it to himself.
“Exactly. We might regard them as supernatural, but they are not. They are humans. Today’s humans just evolved different, losing their abilities to renew their cells, most likely because they turned to cooked food instead of raw,” Wynn explained.
“I take it the prehistoric told you this?” Deacon asked.
“Well, I share living quarters with them,” Wynn reminded him.
“If they are not supernatural, then how come they can survive when their hearts are ripped out of their chest?” Deacon wanted to know.
“Ok, I guess you have a point,” Wynn laughed it off before taking another sip.
“You can always move in here,” Deacon suggested.
“I might just move in next door,” Wynn said, standing up and standing in front of the window that faced the neighbor’s house.
“Have you heard anything about Hannah?” Wynn asked, staring out with his rum in his hand.