My King (Two Prince's Book 1)

by Mary Martel

  Yeah.

  Hell yeah.

  I love her.

  “Is she okay?” Riley’s voice comes out at me from across the room, scaring the shit out of me and making me jump.

  “She will be,” I say, while disentangling myself from Shayne. I get up off of the bed and head towards the door to the other room, I move my hand, motioning for my brother to follow.

  Once in the other room, on a whisper I confess, “I love her.”

  “She is easy to love,” he tells me, unperturbed by my declaration of love.

  “She is,” I tell him, “however, I did not think, when I found my mate, I would fall so quickly.”

  In all seriousness, he responds with, “It is fate, brother, do not try and fight it.”

  “I am sure I will get the chance to remind you of that when it is your turn,” I say, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice. From the look on his face I see it was to no avail.

  “Not sure that’s what’s in store for me, brother.”

  “Why the hell not?” I ask in confusion.

  “Have you ever met a homosexual shifter before?” he asks back.

  “Yeah, I have,” I reply, my voice laced with anger, “As a matter of fact, he’s standing right in front of me.”

  “It is not heard of,” he tells me, something he is not wrong about, “With our bloodline, what would people back home think?”

  I could not believe I was hearing this out of his mouth. I would like to think I have taught him better than this.

  Disappointed with him and angry with the whole conversation, when I speak my voice comes out harsher than I would have liked.

  “Who gives a fuck.” At his flinch, I gentle my tone slightly but still continue speaking, “You’re a goddamn prince to the throne. It is not for your people to judge you. If they do, so what. Fuck them. Do not use our bloodline as a shield to hide behind because you are scared people will judge you. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  He opens his mouth to speak, probably to argue with me, but I hold up my hand, palm out, silencing him before he can.

  “No,” I say, “straight up its bullshit and you know it. Because of our stations in this life we will always be in the spotlight. This was true even before we left. It is going to be much worse when we return. From here on out all eyes are going to be on us. It won’t matter what we do, there’s nothing for it. I suggest you come to terms with this real quick, brother.”

  He wears a look of hurt on his face but I continue anyway, knowing it needs to be said, “You’re in a position that matters. What you choose to do with it says a lot about who you are. You want to wear sequins and lipstick, or whatever the fuck, to announce your sexuality to the world, I say go for it. You want to just be you, I’m down for that too. Whatever path you choose to take do it not hiding who you are. If you hide and in doing so pretend to be something you’re not, it gets out, that will say nothing good about who you are. You only get one life, brother, you need to fucking own it. They will respect you more for your openness and honesty.”

  At the disbelieving look on his face I say, “Yeah, not everyone is going to like it. Shit will get said but that’s life, brother. We will deal with it as it comes.”

  “I’m scared,” he admits.

  “Of all the things we face, this is what you are afraid of?” I ask him in disbelief.

  “The rest will be easy,” he shrugs, “it will fall in place as it should.”

  “As will this,” I tell him, “Worrying about this is a waste of energy at the moment. We need to stay focused on the problems we face right now.”

  “I can do that,” he assures me. Words I am very pleased to hear.

  With no response for that, I change the subject, “Where are the others?”

  Looking relieved, happy to be off the subject of himself, he tells me, “They took Collette with them to dispose of the tracker.”

  “Bet she loved that,” I mutter. The prissy Vampire would not have been pleased with being tasked with disposal of a tracker.

  “Oh, yeah,” he grins, “you should have seen her face. Wish I had taken a picture.”

  I did too. It would have been a good one.

  “I feel badly for how I treated her,” I confess. And I did. Just not enough to apologize to her for my behavior, but enough to confess to my brother.

  “Don’t,” he tells me, “I’m sure she understands why it was necessary.”

  “Right,” I mutter, not believing him in the slightest.

  “Do you want some good news now, brother?” he asks me.

  I highly doubt any kind of news he has to share will be good. Still I encourage him by saying, “I’m all ears.”

  Wasting no time at all, he shares, “Collette and Brooks spent a great deal of time on the phone before leaving. As luck would have it, they are not the only ones who were left curious by Wiley’s statement at the council meeting. Apparently, the whole kingdom is in an uproar over it. People are asking questions that are going unanswered because Uncle Roland has been locked away in his rooms. Probably plotting our deaths.”

  I was right. Not good news.

  I don’t say this and he keeps speaking.

  “His advisors issued a statement with some bullshit about him being so burdened by his grief it made him physically ill. Which, is why he’s sequestered away in is rooms, unable to address their concerns. He is taking some time to recover from said illness. They have scheduled an impromptu council meeting to take place three days from now. Unlike normal council meetings, this one is to take place in the throne room and is open to any and all who wish to be there for it.”

  “He is gathering his forces,” I mummer, “smart move.”

  “I think,” he tells me, “as do the others, we should be at this meeting.”

  “We need more than three days to prepare for this.”

  “Do we?” he asks.

  Did we?

  Maybe we don’t.

  Either way I figured it wouldn’t matter because we were going whether we needed more time to be prepared or not.

  Chapter 18

  Shayne

  Two days have passed since I fell asleep in Ian’s arms. He isn’t here when I wake up. No one is. I get up, shower and watch an hours’ worth of soaps on the tv before I see anyone. Sometimes watching other peoples messed up lives instead of thinking about my own is comforting.

  When Riley and not Ian walks in, grabs my bags and tells me we are checking out I’m irrationally disappointed.

  That was two days ago. We have been in the SUV and on the move ever since. The brothers LeRoy are traveling behind us in their sedan.

  Again, we stick to the back roads. Only stopping for restroom breaks, filling the gas tank up and to grab snacks from whatever gas station we are stopped at.

  According to Collette we only have another hour to go until we reach her home.

  Good news for me because I was way over this.

  My ass is sore, my ankles are starting to swell, all from being in this damn car for so long. I’m not used to this much inactivity and my body is showing signs of it. Extremely uncomfortable signs.

  The worst part is the unnerving silence. I’m the only one it seems to bother.

  The first day, after a few hours of driving and no one speaking, I asked Ian if I could turn on the radio. He told me no, saying he couldn’t concentrate on his surroundings with the radio on.

  Last night when Riley was driving, Collette and Ian were in the backseat sleeping, I was up front with him and I tried again. He told me no, saying he wouldn’t be able to hear the LeRoy’s if the radio was on. When I asked what he meant by that, he tapped his pointer finger against his temple as an explanation but said nothing.

  I gave up on the radio after that. There really was no point.

  However, not to be deterred, this morning I tried to start a conversation. Probably I should have picked a different person to start one with. I’m curious, though. And I still don’t know anythi
ng about Vampires.

  So, in the wee hours of the dawn I turned around in my seat and asked Collette a question.

  “What do you eat?” I asked her.

  “I do not eat,” she said. “I consume blood.”

  “From humans?” I asked. Getting no response from her that time, I asked another question, “Do you have fangs?”

  Sounding put out, she replied, “What I have or do not have, for that matter, is none of your concern.”

  I left her alone after that.

  Still, I did it knowing I’m right about my earlier assessment of her.

  Totally a bitch.

  The next time someone spoke was minutes ago when Collette announced, “We will be there within the hour.”

  I hope she’s right because this silence is maddening and I’ve had more than enough of it.

  *****

  We are driving down a desolate dirt road, it’s completely dark out, when Ian hits the breaks. Coming to a complete stop.

  A glance out the windshield tells me why.

  There is a man standing in the middle of the road. He’s wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, hood pulled up over his head, and black cargo pants. I cannot make out his features in the dark. However, I can see that he is pale, though, much like Collette.

  I’m guessing he’s a Vampire.

  Into the silent vehicle Collette speaks, “My guests are welcome. Open the gate now, Caleb.

  Somehow, I know he hears her because he nods his head and steps back, into the shadows.

  Freaking creepy.

  Casually, Ian asks her, “Friend of yours?”

  “Lover,” she states calmly. “He’s been keeping watch over my home while I searched for the two of you.”

  Lover?

  Briefly, I wonder if she’s a bitch to him, too.

  Probably.

  “Is he a Vampire as well?” I ask her.

  Scathingly, she replies, “What else would he be?”

  I don’t know, maybe an ogre.

  A two headed troll, perhaps?

  I say none of this, though, and reply with, “It’s not like you are averse to sleeping with shifters.”

  “You’re annoying,” she tells me.

  “I love you, too, darling.” I sweetly reply.

  “Look,” Riley says, cutting into our banter, pointing a finger in front of us.

  I do. Just in time to see a nine foot tall, wrought iron, gate swing open at our approach.

  We drive down a narrow lane surrounded on each side with trees for another five minutes or so before the house comes into view. Calling it a house seems ridiculous because it looks more like a mansion. A creepy one.

  Why am I not surprised Collette lives in a creepy mansion out in the wilderness? She probably lures her victims out here and sucks them dry of blood, then later scatters their body parts throughout the wilderness. If I later found out she did this I would not be surprised in the least.

  At three stories, the mansion stands tall and proud, looming in the darkness ahead. Vines cover up most of the front of it, adding to the creepy factor. The only light on looks to be right next to a rather imposing looking front door. Imposing because it looked twice the size of a normal door.

  In the dark of night, besides the creepy factor and it’s sheer size, I found it mostly unimpressive.

  We drive up the circular drive and park in front of the door. Of course there’s a circular drive.

  Disappointedly, I notice there’s no fountain sitting in the middle of the circular driveway. This place could use one. Might bring down the creepy factor a little. Then again, maybe not.

  Hopefully it looks a bit more inviting on the inside.

  Who knows, in the light of day, the whole place might look more inviting. Either way, it’s better than being stuck in the SUV for another night.

  Anything is better than that.

  “Let’s get inside and I will show you to your rooms,” Collette says.

  Mostly, I can’t wait to get out of the SUV and far away from her and her fangs.

  *****

  To my surprise, the inside of the house is actually lovely. Or, the rooms I have a chance to see before she herds us all up to the top floor are lovely.

  Apparently, her ‘rooms’ are on the second floor. Proving herself to be a shit hostess, she tells us she doesn’t want to be disturbed by our presence in her home which is why she is putting us all together in rooms on the top floor, a whole floor away from her own. Not that I really could say I minded because the further away from her the better, in my opinion.

  Also, to my surprise, she puts me in a room with Ian. While everyone else gets their own rooms, he and I are sharing. I shouldn’t be surprised but still… I thought since we have arrived at our destination and no longer staying in motel rooms, we would be in separate rooms now.

  I can’t say I mind, because I don’t.

  It makes me nervous, though. Before, in the rooms we stayed at while on the road, we were never really, truly, alone. I think we all stayed together out of necessity, for the sake of safety. This feels different and that’s what is making me nervous. Shouldn’t he want his own room now that he doesn’t have to share one with me?

  Before she leaves, Collette tells us she will have food brought up to our rooms shortly. Then, without so much as a goodbye, she’s gone. Now, I’m confused. Why does she have food when she doesn’t eat and only consumes blood?

  I swear, she got stranger by the hour.

  The room she puts us is a huge space and weirdly, devoid of furniture. The only thing besides a crummy looking, probably last used ninety years ago, fireplace is a bed.

  The bed, very unlike the fireplace, is not crummy looking in the slightest. It’s a beautifully crafted, highly ornate, oak, four poster bed with a canopy.

  It’s intimidating. Beautiful, but intimidating.

  The wallpaper’s gold in color with black roses printed on it. It would be pretty if it wasn’t weathered with age and torn in places. I bet in its day, in its prime, this room was beautiful.

  A knock on the door puts an end to my inspection of the lack of décor.

  A woman, roughly my age, with lanky brown hair, timidly enters the room carrying a tray with food on it. Without a word she sets it on the bed and quickly retreats back out the door.

  Starving, I sit down on the bed next to Ian.

  In a matter of minutes we devoured the contents of the tray.

  Setting the tray on the floor next to the door, Ian announces it’s time for bed.

  Bags in my hands, I head to the bathroom. The only thing I can think about is my no nonsense, no frills, panties that I have packed in my bag.

  I do not want him to see me in those.

  In a state of panic, I wonder if I should sleep in pants. Or, better yet, maybe I should go and find Collette, see if she has a snow suit I can borrow.

  Oh man.

  How did I end up in the situation? In this place? With these people who are virtual strangers to me? Going to bed… with Ian?

  Chapter 19

  Ian

  As soon as the door to the bathroom shuts behind Shayne I quickly and efficiently undress down to my boxers. I fold my clothes and stuff them in one of my duffle bags resting on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  This will be the first night I get to spend alone with my mate.

  As I’m pulling back the covers on the bed the door opens and in breezes Collette, Riley right on her heels.

  “What’s wrong?” I bark out. Something has to be wrong for my brother to come barging in here. He knows how much I’m looking forward to being alone with Shayne.

  “Nothing is wrong, brother,” Riley assures me. “But, Collette has something she wishes to show us.”

  “And this can’t wait till morning?” I ask, hoping he will say yes, it can wait, and then drag Collette out of here.

  “Guess not,” is Riley’s reply.

  I sigh in exasperation. Of course it can’t wait.

 
“What’s going on?” Standing in the middle of the bathroom doorway, Shayne asks.

  Her hair is up, in a messy bun on the top of her head. She’s wearing a long sleeved burgundy thermal. Too big for her, it rests at mid-thigh.

  To me, she’s never looked better than she does in this moment, coming out of the bathroom, ready to climb into bed with me.

  Only thing wrong with this picture is I’m not in bed, waiting for her to join me.

  No, I’m standing here in my fucking boxers with my little brother and Collette in the room.

  Gesturing to the parcel in Collette’s hands, I say, “Well, let’s see it.”

  Clearing her throat, she asks me, “Would you care to put some clothes on first?”

  “No,” I tell her honestly, “I don’t want to put some damn clothes on first. I just took them off. What I want to do is get whatever the fuck this is over with so I can go to bed.”

  “Fine,” she snaps.

  Walking further into the room, she, carefully, places the wrapped in tissue paper parcel on the bed.

  While unwrapping the tissue paper she speaks. And what she says causes my throat to clog with emotion and my eyes to prick with tears.

  “Your father gave me this a month before his death. He asked me to hold onto it for him, saying one day I would understand why. I did not open it until after Wiley had stated he’d seen the two of you. I sat at my desk staring at these photos of your family for hours before I made the decision to look for you. Now I can’t help but wonder if my King was somehow clairvoyant. Not that it matters now. Anyways, this photo album belongs to the both of you.”

  “He gave you a photo album of our family?” I manage to choke out past the lump in my throat.

  She nods, saying, “I will leave you to it.”

  Turning on her heel she walks out, leaving the room. Softly, she closes the door behind her.

  I look at my brother. His eyes are on the album, a myriad of emotions on his face. The one I recognize the easiest, probably because I am wearing the same emotion on my own face, is anguish. Brutally raw, heartbreaking anguish.

  “I don’t think… I can’t…” he stammers voice thick and chalked with emotion.