Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3)

by Scarlett Dawn

  I nodded once, my sweet smile back in place.

  It was a beautiful view as he scurried away, tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave, though it was a shame when he knocked into a servant carrying a tray of small cakes that flew through the air—such a waste.

  Uncle Marlon’s narrowed eyes slipped from Willam’s retreating back and caught on my satisfied gaze. He lifted his eyebrows in a silent question…a cold, deadly one.

  “Believe me. You do not want to know.” I shivered as his scrutiny increased. “But it does not require additional services.”

  No one wanted to be on Uncle Marlon’s bad side. His way of handling issues was never pretty—even worse than his son’s. Whereas Caspian hid in the shadows to do his dirty work, Uncle Marlon stood in the light for all to see his darkness, not hiding at all.

  Only those he loved saw the brighter side of him.

  Thank Fairy I was his blood.

  “Are you positive?” Uncle Marlon asked coolly.

  “Yes, I took care of it.” I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t listen. I linked my arm with my uncle’s, a gradual smirk creeping up on my features. “I have a wonderful idea to take your mind off unpleasant matters. Shall I find someone for you to dance with?”

  Horror flashed through his violet eyes. His shoulders stiffened. Lastly, he peered down his nose at me. “All right, you’ve made your point, Trixie. I’ll leave him alone.”

  I snickered cheekily. “I thought that might do the trick.”

  “You’re becoming more like your father every day.” He tapped the tip of my nose with a finger, pride evident in his tone. “But you are just as clever as your mother.”

  “Are you saying Father isn’t clever?” I laughed.

  “Oh, no. He is.” He winked in good fun. “But Minnie’s cleverness is much different than our king’s. You are a very dangerous combination of both of your parents.”

  My laughter cut off when a guard wearing red drew near.

  He dipped low into a quick bow, and then popped back up, stating quietly, “My apologies on interrupting, Your Highness. The Misfits have arrived and are seeking an audience with you and the rulers. King Traevon is currently—”

  I held up a quick, stopping hand. “I understand.” I inhaled heavily, all humor gone as I removed my arm from Uncle Marlon’s. I cast my gaze around the overflowing ballroom. “Where are the Misfits now?”

  “In the grand entrance, Your Highness.”

  My red brows pinched together, a certain ruler still missing from the party. “And King Athon?”

  He answered easily, “The King of Shifters asked for a private room some time ago. He and Bishop Marzel are still there. I believe they had food served to them thirty minutes ago.”

  I didn’t allow my expression to falter at that revelation.

  I suppose it was intelligent that King Athon had stayed away from the ballroom. His inner beast might not have remained hidden for long if he’d watched while I’d danced with others.

  “I’ll need you to show me to that room, then instruct guards to bring the rulers there as well. Along with the Misfits.” I wrinkled my nose, detesting giving this order. My eyes lifted to a pair of patient, violet eyes. “Uncle Marlon, you’ll need to fetch King Traevon. If they haven’t been gone long, then…” I would not be finishing that sentence. They were my parents, after all. I didn’t want to think about their intimacies. “Either way, King Traevon can handle waiting. The Misfits can’t.”

  My parents had been soul-mated long enough that they could control themselves during a heat, but it still wasn’t comfortable for them. Neither King Traevon or Mother would like this. My uncle was the best person to send in this situation.

  Uncle Marlon closed his eyes in resignation. But he nodded, all the same. Those stunning eyes opened again and held my gaze firmly. “This will not be pleasant. It may take more than a few minutes.” My uncle quickly moved through couples, his back ramrod straight, prepared for battle.

  I turned my attention to the guard. “Show me the way. You know your orders, afterward.”

  He bowed deeply once more, and then he did as commanded.

  My sandals were silent on the tiling as I swiftly followed in his wake, the guard keeping to the shadows so as not to alert the guests of our movements. There was no reason to worry the partygoers or cause gossip amongst their groups. I stayed at his back until we exited the ballroom and then strolled next to him through the many curving hallways of my king’s castle.

  The guard eventually stopped in front of a door that was already being secured by two sentries in red. He lifted a hand to it. “This is the room, Your Highness. I’ll have the rulers informed and brought here now.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded my head to him in appreciation. Then I turned my gaze to the two eavesdropping guards stationed at the door. “Move further down the hallway.” The conversation with the Misfits was not to be overheard.

  They bowed low and soundlessly did as I’d ordered.

  I opened the wooden door and stepped inside, my emerald eyes scanning the interior of the room. I had been in this one before when I was younger, playing hide and seek with Father. Of course, I had been playing while Father had been furious, thinking I was missing. That had not been a particularly enjoyable day when I was found.

  Nevertheless, the room could accommodate the rulers.

  Except, there was one problem.

  My narrowed gaze halted on a pair of solid honey-brown shifter eyes. I shut the door behind me quickly, muttering, “Where is your king?”

  Bishop’s relaxed posture didn’t alter, his booted feet kicked up on the table, and his massive frame reclined in a too small chair. He paused at taking a bite of his cherry cobbler, and then he pointed his fork at the opened window. He smirked, stating easily, “He just stepped out to take a piss.”

  My nostrils flared. Bullshit.

  He’d better not have been snooping this whole time.

  I marched straight to the window and leaned halfway out, glancing slowly left and then to the right. My eyes stopped on a furry tiger that stared right back at me, not five feet away. I gaped at him, utterly dumbfounded.

  I sputtered, “King Athon, those are my mother’s favorite flowers you’re relieving yourself on.”

  The tiger blinked…and shuffled forward on his paws.

  Then he started peeing again—a lot of Fae damned piss.

  All over the entire cluster of flowers.

  I flashed my fangs. “Are you jesting right now?”

  The King of Shifters bared his much larger fangs.

  He merely kept on watering the blossoms, too.

  I threw my hands up at the dark sky and huffed out a long breath. I leaned back inside, halfway tempted to shut the window on his furry ass. But I stepped aside and crossed my arms, tapping my right foot, impatiently waiting for him to finish.

  Bishop continued to eat his treat, smiling the whole time.

  Shifters were a filthy lot.

  The tiger jumped back through the open window, as silent as a bird flying through a cloud. He shook his fur out, and scrunched his nose in an ugly snarl, showing his fangs again.

  I kept tapping my toe, unmoved by this fierce show. “Shift, Your Royal Highness. I want to smell your breath.” If he’d been in here before, then that other plate of empty cherry cobbler would be on his breath—not just a ploy by Bishop.

  The tiger stared, unblinking.

  I glared back. Yes, I was serious.

  King Athon huffed in severe irritation.

  I merely lifted one eyebrow. I would smell his breath.

  The tiger growled, then, suddenly, his body turned inside out, shifting directly in front of me—so fast I could barely perceive it. King Athon pushed up off his hands and stood up enough to place his rugged face in front of mine. He opened his mouth wide, his tiger fangs on full display in his pissed off ire, and puffed out a hard breath.

  I wiggled my nose, inhaling heavily.

  Sweet shi
fter wine.

  Not too much, but recent.

  Tart cherry cobbler. And perhaps a turkey pie?

  There were more empty plates on the table.

  And…just the slightest hint of jasmine still lingered.

  I cleared my throat and stepped back from him. He could really rid himself of my scent on his lips—the private smirk that crooked up one corner of his lips telling me he knew it was still there, too.

  I peered down my nose, peeved in the extreme. “There is a bathroom right down the hallway, Your Royal Highness.”

  The King of Shifters pulled up to his intimidating height of six feet, six inches, and gazed far, far down at me. His smirk was a warning. “I know there is.”

  I scowled and uncrossed my arms. “You are disgusting.”

  King Athon snorted under his breath. “If this fact has slipped your mind, I am a shifter.” He chuckled darkly, his laughter curling around the room menacingly. “Unlike your unfortunate race, I have two forms. I don’t always need a toilet for my royal ass.”

  “How lucky for you,” I muttered harshly, not liking how he managed to slip in and out unnoticed so easily. I shook my head, trying to focus past this problem. I marched back to the table, bent over, and started piling empty plates on top of each other—yes, there was one that had the remnants of a turkey pie on it. “The Misfits arrived. They, and the other rulers, are coming in here soon.”

  “That’s not surprising.” King Athon rolled his head side to side, working his muscles out—releasing stress.

  “No, I suppose it’s not,” I grouched. I moved around the table and kneed Bishop’s right leg, his feet still up on the table, and blocking my way. “Move, shifter. I’m trying to clean up your mess.”

  Bishop sniggered, not moving as I’d ordered.

  He stared at me while he ate the last of his treat.

  I glanced at the shifter king and pointed at his damned friend. “For Fae’s sake, make him behave, Your Royal Highness. Or I will.”

  “Your mouth is beginning to annoy me,” Bishop remarked quietly, his solid honey-brown eyes losing all previous humor as they stared hard into mine.

  “Bishop…” King Athon pinched the bridge of his nose. “You need to leave the room for the meeting. Wait for me outside.”

  I grinned evilly down at the gorilla shifter. “You heard your king. Leave.”

  Bishop ground his teeth together and yanked his feet off the table. He sat forward in a rush, tossing his plate and fork on the table. His smile was just as cruel as mine. “And you can clean my mess up like a servant, Your Highness.”

  “Fuck you,” I snarled.

  He inhaled slowly, mocking, “No, fuck your—” His mouth snapped shut abruptly, his eyebrows furrowing deeply over his eyes. He slightly turned his face, further in my direction…and inhaled again—the top of his head was at my stomach, his nose further down.

  My eyes grew large. I quickly stepped back from him.

  But it was too late.

  The entire room paused for two atrocious heartbeats.

  I could barely breathe, my lungs seizing.

  King Athon quickly snapped his fingers in my direction, barking in his brutal shifter accent, “Get over here, elf!”

  I swiftly turned toward my Fae damned soul mate, preparing to run as ordered, his friend’s features morphing into bloodthirsty.

  But I grunted hard, my mouth dropping open.

  Horrendous pain like I’d never known pierced into my heart and my stomach. I peered down at my body in shock, the handles of two daggers sticking out of me while a seven foot, six inch maniac shifter pressed against my side and stared down at me, his hands releasing his blades.

  King Athon hissed so fiercely the wood beneath my feet shook. He launched himself through the air right at us, landing in a crouch on top of the table, the plates wobbling, the china clattering fiercely. His hands were instantly on the blades, yanking them from my body and tossing them aside.

  I sucked in a harsh breath, my scream dying in my throat as I stumbled away. Warm, red blood poured from my body like two waterfalls from the gaping holes in my flesh. I fluttered my hands in front of my wounds, choking, “Athon?”

  The King of Shifters slid off the table, grabbing me before I could fall, carefully laying me down on the wood. His eyes were on the wounds, and crimson blood started churning in his deadly eyes. He shoved one of his hands over my mouth while the other slammed down on the wound on my chest.

  Power surged through my Fae-spark from him.

  So. Much. Power.

  My back tried to bow off the ground, but he held me down.

  I screamed in pain…but his hand muffled it.

  Tears tracked down my temples, even as my vision swam.

  His royal bloodpower crawled through my veins like killer ants, pushing my blood to flow correctly as his power poured into my Fae-spark, attempting to heal me.

  My fingernails dug into the hardwood. My power flared, fire burning in my eyes. I barely restrained myself from setting him ablaze, my frame shaking beneath him, sweat pouring off my body, barely able to hold myself back. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky and fatal.

  King Athon’s full attention focused on his work. More power coursed through my Fae-spark, his nostrils flaring, and his tiger fangs peeked behind his parted lips. He threatened—with full intent, “Do not fucking die on me, Trixie. Or I will help King Elon kill your father.”

  “I hate you.” I violently choked on blood.

  I screamed again as his royal bloodpower worked.

  My body shuddered brutally as my heart repaired itself.

  My stomach squeezed as my intestines healed.

  I sucked oxygen against his palm, sparkles dancing in my vision, his face wavering in and out. Mayhap I fainted once? Time seemed to stand still and my vision darkened a few agony-filled times.

  Then suddenly, it was done. Just…done.

  My powerful soul mate yanked his hands back from my body, his solid black shifter eyes returning to normal and scanning my quivering form. He hovered over my frame, not missing one detail. The shifter king’s gaze flew up to mine, and he gripped my chin and barked, “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I rasped faintly. I shuddered again, incapable of not doing so, my entire frame fairly vibrating in aftershocks of agony. “I don’t particularly like…your royal bloodpower…though.”

  “It just saved your ass.” King Athon snarled. He leaned so his face was above mine, his gaze flicking and back and forth between my eyes. His white hair spilled down around us, intimately shielding our faces from prying eyes. He questioned swiftly, “What is your full name?”

  I blinked sleepily. “Princess Trixie Isabella Towers, heir to the Elf Kingdom.” One more slow blink. I slurred, “I’m the woman who is going to kill your best friend.”

  One side of his mouth curved up in an arrogant smirk—or, at least, I thought it did if my vision would clear. “Elf, you just got your ass handed to you, and you’re still spouting threats?”

  I licked over my bottom lip, blood coating my mouth. “You told me to run. Look where that got me.” I creased my nose. “Almost dead. Next time, I’ll just kill the bastard.”

  King Athon lifted one black eyebrow as he cocked his head slightly. “If you really want to play that game, make sure I’m there again to save you. It will be needed, Princess.”

  “Hush. I almost died. Right now would be an excellent time for you to be nice to me.” My brows pinched together, and I lifted my trembling right hand to rub at my forehead, smearing blood all over my face.

  The King of Shifters lowered his head, his eyes on mine. “I will be nice for a moment.” He kissed me softly, his lips teasing me.

  “No,” I stated against his mouth, pouting. “Give me a blade and sit me up so I can stab Bishop in his dick. That would be nice.”

  King Athon nipped my chin in a silent warning.

  But…I did kiss him back. He had saved my life—and his lips were so Fae d
amned soft. I moaned quietly, enjoying the unusual tenderness he was showing—until a thought occurred through my foggy brain. “I’m confused. Why is Bishop behaving right now?” The shifter was suspiciously quiet.

  “I took control of his body,” King Athon stated absently. He ran his tongue over the corner of my mouth, licking away blood. “He can’t move.” The King of Shifters reluctantly pulled his head back from mine. With his gaze on my lips, he asked gruffly, “Can you stand? I’ll need to remove the blood before the others arrive.”

  “Not a chance in Fairy,” I mumbled honestly—and grumpily. “Perhaps in five more minutes, but not right now. You’ll have to pick me up.”

  King Athon grunted and gently lifted me into his arms, like a Fae damned child, holding me protectively against his chest. As he stood, blood started to rise from my body, the floor, his hands, the table, everywhere my blood had splattered.

  I repeatedly blinked, watching as my blood spun in the air, faster and faster, the droplets becoming smaller and smaller…until they completely disappeared. I slurred, “That is a nifty skill.”

  The King of Shifters muttered, “You’re a mess.”

  His power shoved again inside my Fae-spark.

  I sniffed—or I thought I did. “There is no need for that. You can cut it off.”

  “Not if you want to be healed by the time everyone assembles,” King Athon mused, his attention whipping to his friend. He shook me slightly in his arms, his tiger fangs baring. “You have made her defenseless.”

  Unable to see, I tipped my head dizzily to the left.

  Bishop stood exactly where he had last been, in the same position, frozen in place mid-motion, his hands still in the air after releasing his blades.

  My head fell back over my dratted soul mate’s arm, leaving me gazing at the ceiling, my body so tired. I whispered, “I think I need a nap.”

  The King of Shifters snarled quietly and resituated me in his arms so the side of my head rested against his chest—his black fur vest tickled my cheek. His attention swung back to his stationary friend, a menacing growl erupting in the air. “I do not know how, but the Fae made a mistake. This fucking elf in my arms is my soul mate. And, Bishop, if you ever injure her again like that—harming the Shifter Kingdom and me—I will kill you myself.” His fierce gaze didn’t falter, death written in his eyes for any who’d hurt me.