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Beneath the dry desert wilderness beyond San Francisco, hidden inside a bunker built nearly two centuries beforehand, Abbadon and his coven waited in the dark underground. This living situation not only kept them safe from the abhorrent sunlight, but those who would seek to destroy them. The only marker indicating its existence was a curved structure above the surface that would seem alien to the average observer; but no one disturbed the vampire den, knowing that too many whose curiosity got the better of them had wandered inside, never to return.

Michael approached the structure now as the moon sat high in the dark sky, two figures meeting him at the entrance. The two lackeys who had assisted his brother the night he attacked you.

"Looky here, Tate," Tristan, the vampire with red streaks in his hair said slyly to his companion, "His Royal Highness decided to grace us with his presence."

"Looking for a round two, pretty boy?" Tate goaded as he dragged his tongue over his gleaming fangs.

"I'm not here to waste my time on you two," Michael answered with deadly serenity, "I'm here to see my brother. Step aside."

"And what if he doesn't want to see you?" Tristan countered, crossing his arms defiantly.

"He's busy," Tate added.

Michael's mesmerizing blue eyes grew red as blood as he stepped closer, towering over both of them, "I'll only say it once more," his voice is a demonic growl, "Step aside."

As much as they would desire to defy him, they knew Michael's power, fighting him would be a death wish. In the vampire world, there ruled one above them all as the most dangerous monster among them. One who had a line to the Devil himself. And he stood before these two relatively young vampires now. So, they do as he says, and step aside for him to enter.

The king descended the steps, hearing the faint echo of dark, pounding music as he neared the bottom. He took the last step, beholding the gory sight in front of him.

Several naked humans were laid out in crucifixion poses, surrounded by vampires drinking from the veins in their wrists, ankles, and necks. Blood oozed down the bare skin of their victims who sat wide-eyed in shock, their mouths open in a silent scream. In the center of the room sat the dark-haired, handsome man from the bar, a young woman laid across his lap deadly still as he feasted from her bleeding wounds. A grand fireplace illuminated him from behind, giving him the glow of a creature from Hell. He didn't even notice Michael at first.

Michael threw out his hand, turning off the music and causing the hungry horde to turn and angrily hiss and glare at him. Some looked ready to pounce and attack. Barely glancing up from his meal, Abbadon slowly licked the blood from his victim before pushing her off of him, her body hitting the ground with a thud.

He stood up, his arms outstretched as he bowed at the waist with a mocking smirk, "All hail his majesty! Had I known you'd be joining us I would have brought an extra snack."

He walks forward, his gaze set on his brother, "You were lucky to have escaped with your life."

He chuckles, placing a hand over his dead heart, "Oh, I thank you for your mercy."

"I had every right to protect what is mine," he growled, "You know very well the law."

He steps off the little platform before the fireplace and struts towards him with arrogance evident in every step, "You broke your own rule. As far as I'm concerned, it's open season. And that is how everyone will see it," he says, indicating to the horde all around them, "Your poor friend is rolling over in her grave."

At the mention of 'his poor friend' Michael bares his fangs and takes a threatening step forward, "I marked them.'

"Have they tasted your blood?"

He didn't answer. Which was all he needed to prove his point.

"No? Then you've done nothing but seal their fate," he shrugged, "Unless you intend to keep them as a pet."

Michael narrowed his eyes, "I intend to keep them safe."

Abbadon laughed, saying cruelly, "You fucked that up, didn't you?"

He didn't want to fight, not here, there were too many, even if he could take them all; and every single one of them looked as though they would like nothing more than to rip his throat out..

"I am ordering you, as your King," he says lowly, "to stand down."

"Even if I did, every other vampire in the city has their sights set on that little human. And you can't keep them all away."

"They know better than to defy their king. And you should as well."

He gives him a knowing look, his lips turning up in a grin, "They don't trust their King anymore."

Michael scowls at him, glancing around the hostile room and stepping back slightly, saying one last thing before he turns and heads back up the stairs.

"You've been warned."