Hunted By The Barbaric Vampire King

|3|~The History~

Unedited.
Biggs POV.

"Mr. Biggs," insultingly greets the bitch in the deep blue lingerie.

Rebel Rose.

The beautiful and bold rebel Rose. She is a walking work of art with her white as snow skin, chin-length wavy jet-black hair, and soullessly deep dark as night eyes.

Plus, she has a shit load of colorful markings, indicating her strengths. I'm not a hater and I've got to keep it one hundred.

The girl is a true beauty.

However, my sperm donor uses to hit it on the nose... Everything That Glitters Is Not Gold.

I believe that saying was meant for Rebel Rose. She is a real bitch. My arch-nemesis, foe, ill-wisher, and my personal favorite, number one hater.

She's had it out for me since we were ten years old and the both of us are a little over a century now. Yup! Her hater raid still lives on. Rebel's father was a part of my father's gang, meaning we were raised together. We were close once upon a time and I repeat once upon a time but that was a very long time ago.

Our dads used to be real bros. Not! However, they pretended to be. Rebel's dad and my dad were the epitomes of frenemies. They hated each other guts no matter what they might have said. They did and everyone knows it. Their hatred ran so deep that they implanted hatred into their seeds. The very moment that they saw how close we were they played us against one another.

Rebel and I use to love playing games. Both of us were and still are excellent shooters. We are hitters and our fathers utilized the things we shared in common, against ourselves. They used to call it, "friendly competition," but let me be clear nothing was friendly about the competitions that we were once forced to participate in.

*Flash Back*

"Beretta,"

"Rebel," our fathers called out together.

"Yes, Sire's," we answered in unison while lining up, side by side. Rebel and I are in the yard playing hunters and vampires. She's the hunter and I'm the vampire. Both of us love this game. It's fun. Plus, today is our tenth birthday. Yup. We are birthday twins.

Rebel and I have so much in common. It's like she is my pair. Sometimes both of us tend to get distracted and tune the rest of the world out when we're around one another.

That's how close we are. We tend to find ourselves lost in one another's company unless our fathers are home. Both of us are perfectly aware that we must be on our P's and Q's when our daddies and their gangs are around.

Our fathers or more like drill sergeants and are both very adamant about their children utilizing manners, showing respect, and following orders. If any child of theirs were to demonstrate anything other than what is expected the consequences for our punishment can be deadly and I mean deadly.

Rebel's father just murdered one of her brothers last night because he didn't follow a direct order. He has zero patience for a disobedient child, even if the child was created by him. Her father is almost just as bad as my father. Almost. I stayed up all night with Rebel, attempting to make her feel better. I hate it when she cries.

A girl with a face like hers should never be stained with tears. She deserves better than that. We both do. That is another reason why we are currently playing hunters and vampires, even though we shouldn't. It's dangerous to play games when our daddies are at home.

We learned that a long time ago, but Rebel needs to have fun and I'm going to be her party source. Besides, it is our birthday.

"What are you girls doing," questions my father with his usual creepy voice tone. My father is a scary man. Everything about him frightens me. He's a very tall and well-built man with dark features. Long and dark hair, long and dark facial hair, dark eyes, and a dark soul.