Rose Bound: The Rose and King series Book 1

by J. J. Marshall

  5

  Rose

  Rose crept silently through the musty darkness, running her fingers along the rusty cages beneath the pits. “Ollie!” she hissed, venturing further in. She still could not find the big bastard. The wolfsbane she’d given him contained a tad of magic and a dash of hope that it would keep him alive and only appear to be dead. Rose knew the latter had worked. What worried her was the former.

  “Oliver!” she snarled, growing frustrated, hoping beyond hope that he would hear her. Her hem was saturated with goddess knew what, and the stench in the air was potent enough to make even a mortal gag, never mind her sensitive immortal nose. Her nostrils burned, making her eyes water as she forced herself to continue searching for the wolf.

  A soft moan echoed from one of the body carts in the far corner of the dungeon. The shadows grew stronger, creating a blanket of darkness so thick that Rose’s vampire eyes couldn’t see through it. Her anxiety intensified with each passing second as she fished in her skirts for a candle she’d been saving. Her trembling fingers curled around the wax and she was quick to bring it to her lips, whispering a spell. A spark was soon followed by a small flame engulfing the wick. Orange light flooded the block as Rose’s gaze fell on a small cart.

  Oliver Dawson was sprawled out atop it, lying on a heap of rotting corpses, bloodied and bruised. His throat no longer looked mangled, due to the concoction she had given him before the fight. She knew he would likely be furious, but she didn’t care. He was alive.

  “Ollie!” Rose gasped. Stepping lightly, Rose moved like the shadows until she was next to the wolf. His right eyelid was shades of purple and blue, swelling shut, and scarlet blood dried on his lips and matted his brows. Rose’s eyes softened as she took his head gently in her hands. “Dawson, you big ass. Come on. Wake up!” Tears pricked at the corners of the heiress’s eyes, threatening to spring free. There was so much riding on him living. If he died now, after everything, what would it all be for? Only part of Palmer’s plans had been foiled. Rose realized she shouldn’t have placed so much faith in her magic or the wolf, but seeing him lie there because of her…

  Goddess save him, she silently prayed to the Night Queen.

  Voices slithered through the darkness, catching Rose’s ears, halting her breaths. Her heart thundered in her chest and her muscles tensed. If she was caught, it would be the end of her. It was one thing to be rooting around upstairs, but to be in the dungeons, saving a ‘dead’ wolf, was another.

  “Sorry,” she muttered quickly to an unconscious Ollie before turning and snuffing out her flame. Darkness descended all around her and her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to her new surroundings. The voices echoed closer as their footsteps reverberated through the tunnels. Rose moved silently, trying to listen. If they had information, she wanted it.

  “You blithering idiot! How could you let him disappear!” a familiar voice hissed.

  Palmer.

  “S-sorry boss! He went into the Forest of Knowing…” A henchman squirmed. Rose smirked. Of course, Jagger had gone into the forest. A good ploy, but a dangerous one. Rose knew of the magic that lay hidden within the trees. The tricks that Limos played on vampires, turning their hunger and bloodlust into an unquenchable ache. The victims one would see… Rose only hoped that the goddess was with Gavin, protecting him from such debauchery.

  “And what exactly do you have to fear in there? You’re dead, you fool! If you weren’t, you would be now!” Rose could hear things being tossed around on the other side of the wall. Glass shattered and the familiar smell of tonic wafted through the air. She imagined what expensive gin had just been wasted. The smell of it bloomed along the halls, mixing like toxin with the smell of rot.

  Rose fidgeted in her spot, clasping her fingers as she craned her neck to hear more. A door creaked in the distance, cracking a sliver of yellow light onto the floor. The echo of footsteps grew faint and an eerie silence took hold of the dungeon. She sucked in a deep breath and inched closer to the door, rounding the corner of the block. Slipping closer so that she could see through a large crack in the partially closed door, Rose kept her breathing even and shallow.

  Palmer was shaking his head, making ugly red curls sling about. “He was meant to break, not escape. What the flying fuck are we going to do now?” Palmer bellowed, deep and throaty, to the room of idiots around him. His short legs waddled, his feet hitting the stone with a dull thud before stopping. “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, tossing another brass tray, likely one of his own heirlooms, into the air. It hit the floor with a furious clatter. Rose winced, her muscles tensing as she eased in closer.

  “Boss?” a man stepped forward, his voice tentative. It was raspy, and the ghoul was uncharacteristically clean. Grey skin clung to his bones, sinking into areas where organs once were. A mess of dirty brown hair sat atop his head. His eyes were clouded over, sunken into his skull. Brown trousers hung from his hips, a size too large for his skeletal frame. He was a wretched sight, and Rose wondered why her father entertained himself with such creatures. Slowing her breathing until it halted, Rose turned to take in the rest of the ghoul. She didn’t care what his name was, that was irrelevant, but if he knew where her sister was…

  “What?” Palmer snapped.

  Recoiling in on himself, the ghoul fidgeted with the bones of his fingers. “What if we use the wolf?” the ghoul boy asked. Palmer whirled to face the bookie, arching a brow.

  “What the actual hell are you talking about?” He eyed the creature, taking a step closer.

  “The w-wolf and prince were friends, right? Wh-what if we taunted Jagger into coming back?” The look Palmer gave the ghoul made him shrink back into the shadow of the others.

  “Hmm,” Palmer stroked his double chin thoughtfully, “maybe something can be done with that. Bring me the body!”

  No!

  Rose turned on her heel and scurried back to Oliver. “Ollie!” she whispered, but the wolf remained motionless. “Oliver Dawson! If you don’t move your ass, we’re both gonna be in deep shit, now come on!” Ollie’s eyes cracked open, searching her face.

  “Whaaa…?” Oliver moaned as he began to stir. Sluggishly, he brought his hand to his forehead. Rose noted its coloring, watching as the wolf winced. Purples, blues, and blacks painted his knuckles as hues of pinks and reds swirled in a swollen mass to the rest of his hand. He must have broken it on Gavin’s cheek.

  “Fucking ‘ay,” he slurred, pushing himself upright. Silent but quickly, Rose moved to his side with ease and slung an arm around the fighter’s naked torso, helping him to his feet. He was much heavier than she’d anticipated, though Rose didn’t know why she expected the wolf to be anything but difficult. He was a full-grown brawler, an alpha. Tight, corded muscles tensed beneath the his bronzed skin as Ollie staggered, leaning into the vampire. The bane’s effects had done a number on him, but moreover, they’d saved his hide. Rose turned to look at the wolf, watching cautiously as the last of the bane wore off and Oliver Dawson grew more aware of his surroundings.

  “Where are we?” he whispered, looking around.

  “Shut up!” Rose hissed. “I need to get you out of here.” Ollie opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. Good, Rose thought. They needed to move quietly if they wanted to make it out. Despite her questions for the evil Palmer, Rose needed to get Ollie to safety. She would not have him hurt because of her actions.

  “Taking me to your bedroom, eh?” Ollie asked, wagging his eyebrows at the vampire. Rose glowered, flicking her tongue over the tip of her fang as she kept silent. “I see you’ve come around to shagging me, eh?”

  Nausea swept over Rose, bile lurching up her throat as she thought about Ollie’s touch. He was a dog and yet, there was something alluring about him. She let out a sigh, scrunched her nose, and replied, “If we get out of here safely, I’ll give you a night you won’t forget.”

  “Lass, I intend on taking you up on that,” Ollie drawled, before bending down to scoop her up with bo
th arms. She wanted to object, given his recent run-in with death, and if circumstances had been normal, Rose would have swatted the wolf for touching her without permission. But with Palmer and his goon squad on their way, she left it alone. As long as they made it out of the tunnels safely.

  “Move along the wall, toward the door,” Rose whispered. “I’ll call upon the goddess to shadow us. But those goonies are on their way to get your corpse and I don’t want to be here when they come up empty-handed.”

  “Which goddess?” Ollie asked.

  “Celeste.” Ollie’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed and jaw set, and nodded in silent agreement. Rose knew she’d struck a chord, calling on the vampire goddess in the presence of a Moonchild, but with danger quickly approaching, she knew she needed to act fast. She’d apologize later. She’d pray to Celeste for guidance and to Artemis for forgiveness.

  Rose whispered under her breath, feeling the cold creep along her skin, the hair rising on her arms and the icy nip at her neck as cloaks of black shrouded them. Ollie’s eyes widened at the devilry, but again, kept silent. They would be able to see, but their enemies would never know they were there.

  The door to Palmer’s office screeched open and a series of footsteps clambered down the corridor, echoing off the stones. The smell of rot choked the air from her lungs. Rose’s ears picked up their racing pace.

  “Hang on tight,” Ollie whispered, his lips grazing her ear, sending shivers down Rose’s spine. With no further warning, the wolf ran. Rose held on, her hair whipping in the air behind them. She nestled against the wolf’s chest, whispering directions, watching as he followed each one until they were inches from the exit. Ollie slowed his pace to a stop and set Rose to her feet.

  “Go,” she whispered, turning to face the wolf and placing her palm to his olive cheek. “I’ll fend them off.” Heat greeted her palm as the slightest hue of pink crept across his features, mixing with the blues and purples. His darkened eyes widened as they stared into her own.

  “Come with me.” It wasn’t a question, but a plea. Rose shook her head.

  “I’ll meet you in town, Oliver Dawson. Until then,” she fished for her change purse, pulling it from her neck, handing it out to the hulking man, “Take my coin and lay low.” The footsteps behind them grew louder. “I’ll hold off the ghouls,” she said, pushing to her tiptoes, planting a soft kiss on the wolf’s cheek. His eyes softened, wavering under her touch.

  “I can’t just leave ya ‘ere, lass.”

  “Please,” she choked out, wrapping her arms around his torso. Rose heard his heart thumping wildly in his chest. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to feel for this man. She gulped down the lump of anxiety forming in her throat when something within her cracked. Whether it was her hard exterior or the walls she’d placed to protect herself, Rose didn’t know. Now was not the time to be weak. Her breathing staggered as she tried to compose herself before she pushed from Dawson.

  “Go,” she whispered, turning back to face the tunnels, but she knew the wolf was still behind her. Casting a look over her shoulder, Rose sucked in a deep breath and snarled, “Go!”

  “Come back to me,” he whispered.

  Rose froze, the air ripping from her lungs. She could feel her walls crumbling. She felt so exposed, so—vulnerable. That’s when she knew that the wolf beside her would be her downfall.

  “I will,” she said, before disappearing back into the darkness. She had questions for Palmer and she would get her damn answers.

  Leaving Dawson’s side was perhaps the stupidest thing she could have done. Rose knew it and yet, she had left him. Darkness swallowed her once again, shrouding her into the shadows of the tunnels as the rancid smell gripped at her senses. What she had to do was not going to be fun. Facing the ghouls was one thing, and though Palmer was short in stature, she was sure the rumors held some truth. He was not gracious, even to women.

  Dahlia was close, Rose could feel it in her bones. She could always tell when her sister was near. Like a twintuition, though her sister was a few years older. Rose’s inner radar had been going haywire since she’d set foot on the property. She had never planned on assisting either Gavin or Oliver, but her intuition was screaming to do something. That in doing so, they’d be helpful in finding Dahlia.

  Palmer was the face of all things illegal, her father’s shield against Elirion’s judgment. Zachary Coston worked behind the scenes on the Pits, delivering the finest wolfsbane, pleasure houses and bets the realm had to offer. And if there was one ghoul that knew his family’s dirty secrets, it was Sven Palmer. Which meant he must’ve had some clue as to where Rose could start her search.

  The smell of decay infiltrated the heiress’s nose again as she went deeper into the tunnel leading to the underground dungeon Palmer kept his skeletons in. A twist here, a turn there, had left the heiress enough time to adjust to the change in light. Rose scratched at her golden locks as she poured through the labyrinth in her mind, her eyes off in the distant facets of her brain, ears deaf to footsteps that approached.

  Air whooshed from Rose’s lungs as she fell backward. Her ass cracked hard against the stone floor, her spine screaming with blinding pain. Something large had rammed into her torso. Rose blinked as stars swarmed her vision and clutched at her head.

  “What the fuck?” she cursed, blinking several times and looking up, her heart nearly stopped. Malicious black eyes peered down at the heiress, raking over her body. She felt every muscle within her cringe. Rose clawed at the cool stone under her and pushed up to her feet. Her muscles groaned in protest.

  “Rosalie Coston,” Palmer’s slithery voice hissed. Rose smiled, exposing her ivory fangs.

  “Sven,” she greeted, dipping her head and giving the kingpin a courteous bow.

  “Such a treat to find you here in the Pits.”

  “It’s a treat to be in these parts,” Rose replied as she took a step toward the ghoul, walking a circle around him like a lion sizing up her prey. Her hips swayed seductively as she reached out, tracing her index finger along Sven’s fat neck. The ghoul mob boss gulped.

  “Why are you in my tunnels?” he asked, straight to the point as always. Her time spent with Sven had always been business, and only with her father. Rose licked at her fangs, aching with venom. She straightened her shoulders and met the kingpin’s gaze. His dark, dead eyes bore no secrets, making him extraordinarily good at his job.

  She leaned in, smelling his awful breath and whispered, “Where is my sister? Where is Dahlia?”

  The kingpin chuckled, taking a step away from her and clasped his hands behind his back. He began to pace, creeping in and out of the dungeon shadows. “You Coston ladies have always been the sultry type,” he stated matter-of-factly. Men were always begging for their hands in marriage. Whether it was for land, power, or both. “Men like sultry little things like you,” he crooned. “Which explains why your sister’s little plum head earned the most coin in the Bloodwhore Markets.”

  No.

  “You’re lying,” Rose snarled, curling her fingers into fists. There was no way Palmer had sold her sister, there couldn’t be. Dahlia was his boss, after all, and yet, she had the sinking feeling that Palmer had just told the truth.

  “Am I, though?” He smiled as if he could read her thoughts, flashing his green teeth. His lips curled into a grin. Rose’s fists furled and unfurled, her dagger-like nails pressing into her palms.

  “You fucking lie!” she accused again, tears pricking at the corners of her lapis lazuli eyes. Her thoughts clouded. She could see only red. She would make Palmer pay for his misdeeds.

  She would make him pay for what he did to Dahlia.

  Dahlia.

  Rose’s legs moved faster than her thoughts as she lunged forward with immortal speed, grasping at the ghoul. Cold flesh swam under her fingers as she curled her vice-like grip around Palmer’s white collar and lifted him into the air. Palmer’s legs dangled as he struggled to find his breath, kicking furiously at the vam
pire heiress. Rose paid no mind to him, seeking only vengeance. She hauled him up further and with a quick shove, Palmer’s back was against the cool stone wall. Cracks echoed through the tunnels, the wall splintering as dirt and debris rained from the ceiling, showering them both.

  “Where is my sister?” she roared.

  “Don’t you worry, love,” Palmer rasped. “You’ll be with your bloodwhore sister soon enough.” Hands gripped at Rose. Bones and nails and weapons wielded at her spine, pressing into her skin.

  “Put him down,” a voice commanded, neither male nor female, only dead. Slowly, Rose weighed her options—she could crush the kingpin and allow him to take his answers to the grave, she could fight back, or she could go willingly with the chance that her sister was safe. Palmer smiled as his henchmen dragged Rose to the ground, pinning her arms and legs.

  Looking at his men, he said, “Take her away. Tomorrow she faces the same fate as Dahlia.”

  6

  Ollie

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Ollie’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. His head was light, buzzing with Rose’s words. ‘If we get out of here alive, I’ll show you a night you won’t forget.’ He couldn’t believe his ears. Bloodsuckers, vampires, fangbangers never gave him the time of day and here he was about to win big! His lips spread into a wide grin across his face, one that made him look stupid, but he didn’t give a damn. Artemis could strike him dead for the thoughts crossing his mind, but there was something about the lass he couldn’t let go of. She was different, and if Ollie didn’t know better, he would say he was falling in something short of love for the lady. She was finer than any woman in his pack, sure, but she was a vampire.

  His eyes scrunched together, closing as he sucked in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. His mind was running a mile a minute, his finger steepled at his lips, tapping them to the rhythm of his thoughts. Rose had saved his life. But why? Furthermore, she’d made him a promise, and Ollie fully intended on holding her to it.