Because only a vampire as large and impertinent as Sage would call the leader of the Rectinatti vampire coven by this nickname. Darian is the Rectinatti Regan, or king, of my world, and at times is as much an obstacle to my MC Alex as the Vengatti.
Darian Ardellus, Rectinatti Regan
Born: in Ireland in 1693 to Ardellus and Daphne, the Regan’s only child and therefore heir of the Rectinatti coven
Physical characteristics: well over 6’, broad shouldered, solid build, longer, wavy brown hair, brown eyes
Of note: Darian’s mother died in childbirth leaving his father to both raise and train him as his successor. He ascended earlier than many Regans because his father recognized he was better suited to lead in the more urban and modern setting of Bristol, MA. Not everyone in the coven (i.e. the Elder Council) agreed with this decision.
Just for fun: Darian has a few quirks: he runs his hands through his hair when he’s angry and trying to control his temper, he’s a perpetual pacer, and a caffeine addict. He hates early evenings (the vamp equivalent of not being a morning person) and is deadly grouchy when tired.
Darian has become one of my favorite characters to write because of his contradictions. He’s hell-bent on leading the coven his way but tied to its traditions and histories. He demands obedience, yet he respects those willing to push boundaries. He wanted to lead, but hates the burden leading imposes on him. And he can be a bastard one minute and a compassionate friend or mate the next. He’s complicated, which makes him fun—for me at least!
He didn’t bother to knock, but rather entered the room silently and sat in one of the chairs across from Darian’s desk. Darian was seated behind it, his head in both hands so that his chin- length hair curtained his face. Markus would have liked to feel sympathy for him, but after listening to Alex cry herself to sleep, none came.
“Can I talk to you, as a friend?”
Darian looked up and sighed. “You mean, will I not rip your fangs out for telling me I’m everything Alex accused me of and worse? That I clearly don’t have the essence worthy of an amoeba, never mind a Regan? Yeah, go for it.”
Markus sat waiting for Darian to continue. It was clear from his tortured face that he didn’t need Markus to confirm any of this. Markus had known Darian long enough to know that underneath the pompous façade the Regan was aware of his shortcomings. Markus and Sage, being the only two members of the coven Darian thought of as friends and not just subjects, might have gotten away with reminding him of those shortcomings now and again, but it was better, safer, to let him get there on his own.
Darian sighed. The meeting with the Elders the previous night had been as uncomfortable and aggravating as he had expected. He had hoped it was the last night of unpleasantness he would have to deal with for a while. But as Rocky entered his office, there wasn’t a trace of the cock-eyed dumb-in-love grin that had been plastered on his face ever since Darian had agreed to let him see his feeding partner an hour each week. Instead his mouth flapped, though he had yet to stammer out a greeting. His brows were furrowed, and Darian followed the faint scent of blood to his red, raw nail beds. There would be no respite.
“Sit.” He walked around his desk and kicked out the chair directly in front of where he leaned on the desktop. Rocky obeyed, though Darian didn’t miss how he managed to pull the chair back six inches before sitting down. “Spit it out.”
Who’s your favorite fictional alpha male? Do you like him better when he’s tough as nails or showing his softer side?