Brandon's fist clenched the glass of blood in his hand so hard it'd break any moment from now. His eyes were fixated on the entrance of his tent, slightly narrowed. The tension so thick one would cut it with a knife. They said there was nothing like an angry royal vampire.
Tieron walked in, his hands rested on his back. The smirk, usually on his face, was quick to disappear when his eyes locked with Brandon's.
Slamming his fists against the table, Brandon stood. His long claws had now dug into his palms. Drops of his own blood trickled down the table as he stared daggers at his uncle.
"He was mine to torture. I made it clear no one else was to touch yet you went ahead and defied my order, uncle?" His eyes were never leaving his.
Tieron's lips twitched. Not because Brandon was mad at him, but because he referred to him as uncle. He took a step forward when the vampires present snarled, their hands on the hilt of their swords.
