Rebel Match (The Royale Vampire Heirs Book 3)

by Ginna Moran

  A beep from Ronan’s computer cuts me off. His eyes turn to his screen, and he drops a few f-bombs, sliding his hand over the desk to swipe a bunch of papers to the floor. A strange smoky smell wafts through the air, and everyone looks at each other.

  “The south side is on fire,” Ronan says, tapping his fingers on the digital keyboard. “The sprinkler system has been disabled.”

  I fly off my feet and land in Bronx’s arms. The Crescent Coven vanishes, leaving the five of us alone. Mikkalo, Everett, and Jameson unsheathe their weapons and head to the door. Bronx’s muscles flex as he squeezes me tighter than usual.

  Mikkalo brings up the video feed. “We have to go to Silas. He’s chained in a room on the top floor. This was probably a distraction.”

  “I don’t know, brother,” Bronx says, his deep voice croaking with an agitated growl. “The Barons aren’t stupid. They knew we’d catch Silas.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to lure us out,” Jameson says. “Or they think we’ll go after Silas.”

  “A fire won’t kill him,” Everett says. “I say we leave him. Interrogating him isn’t necessary.”

  All four of them look to me for my opinion. “I’m with Everett. I refuse to let those assholes think they can use my brothers against me.”

  “Damn straight,” Jameson says, kissing me in Bronx’s arms. “Let’s just get out of here so I can continue to satisfy our girl for the rest of the night. She made me so hot with the way she spoke to Ronan about us.”

  “So, so hot. Maybe I can help,” Mikkalo teases.

  I stick out my tongue. “Or maybe it’s the fire?”

  Everett laughs. “Definitely not.”

  Bronx doesn’t say anything and just holds me tighter. I’m nearly certain he’s not going to put me down until he’s sure it’s safe. With everything going on, he’s in over-protective mode. He doesn’t have to tell me for me to know that Ronan’s words might have gotten to him, but I don’t think his sudden silence involves me.

  Voices in the hallway outside the office draw our attention to the door. Mikkalo moves forward first, fully prepared to dismember anyone who dares try to fight us. A guy yells and stumbles—clearly human—and I watch as three more men and a woman help him to his feet. Ronan materializes, carrying a sword. He flashes his fangs in the direction he came.

  “Bronx, we need help,” he says. “Half our staff is in that wing. Something is wrong with them.”

  “Mind manipulation?” Bronx asks, tightening his jaw.

  Ronan nods. “The staff is panicking, but they’re running toward the flames instead of away. We locked as many as we could in their rooms, but there are far too many to retrieve alone.”

  Bronx turns to Everett, Jameson, and Mikkalo. “Help the Crescents. I’ll keep Gwen.”

  “Conrad will lead you there,” Ronan says to my guys. He looks at Bronx. “You two come with me. The front is in flames, so we need to leave out the back.”

  “Be safe, brothers,” Bronx says, letting me quickly hug them.

  Everett, Mikkalo, and Jameson follow a short, silent guy with hair flowing past his shoulders. They disappear into the hazy air. Bronx shifts me so that our chests press together, and I tug his shirt up slightly to help filter the air. Bronx’s bare stomach touches between my legs, and I really wish Jameson hadn’t ripped my underwear.

  “Dandelion,” he murmurs.

  “Blame Jameson.”

  He chuckles. “Or thank him.”

  I kiss his throat, laughing into the crook of his neck, so relieved that he finally finds amusement in something in this shitty situation. The world blurs around me as Bronx follows behind Ronan through a few hallways that look exactly the same. I don’t know if it was made to confuse humans or what, but I’d be screwed if I got separated.

  A small crowd of people blocks an opaque door in front of us. They bang on the glass, trying everything they can to break it. Ronan shifts and peers at us over his shoulder. He growls in frustration, his eyes flashing silver at me. He looks like he wants to scream a few choice words at me but doesn’t because of Bronx.

  “Move!” Ronan yells, drawing the people’s attention away from the door.

  A few bite marks decorate their bodies. They must’ve been personal donors to the coven and with them. It would explain why they haven’t been mind manipulated. The people move away from their door and cling to each other. Ronan blurs away from us and rams into the door, shattering it. He waves to the humans, getting them to follow him out.

  Fear prickles on the back of my neck, and I tighten my grip on Bronx. “Something’s wrong,” I whisper. “Don’t go out there.”

  Bronx freezes a few feet from the door. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. My fear instincts are going crazy,” I say.

  A soft growl comes from behind us, and Bronx draws his weapon from his sheath. He spins to find Nash in the hallway. My heart slides in my stomach, spotting the figure behind him. Silas pushes Nash forward, causing him to clench his jaw. Blood drips from the front of Nash’s shirt where his heart would be. The five blossoms remind me of when Francisca had Jameson’s heart, threatening to rip it out. Silas is about to do the same.

  “You have sixty seconds, Mr. Crescent,” Silas says, extending his fangs.

  Bronx roars, jerking me in his arms. Silas and Nash distracted the both of us long enough that Ronan managed to stab Bronx in the back. Bronx spins with me, turning to Ronan. He shoves into us, using me to smash Bronx into the wall.

  I scream out in pain, pretty damn sure Ronan broke some of my ribs. Hands lock around my waist in an attempt to rip me away from Bronx. Bronx swings his dagger, sinking it into Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan punches me in the back, knocking the wind from me. Bronx twists again to protect me and takes another stab to the shoulder.

  “You have to put me down,” I say, heaving a breath.

  Bronx relents, setting me on my feet. He spins around and power kicks Ronan, sending him flying into the wall. Silas releases Nash, and the two of them charge us. We’re outnumbered, and Bronx is injured.

  “Time to use your best weapon. Give me your dagger.” I lose all my fucks toward the fact that I’m in a stupid dress without undergarments and charge toward my brother. I crash into him, knocking him back. Bronx hooks his arm around my waist and spins me. I slice the dagger through the air too fast for Nash to stop. The front of his shirt tears, showing off his thick body hair that I think might cover his abs.

  “Bronx, this is pointless. I don’t want to hurt you,” Ronan says, stepping closer. “You’re going to hand me Gwen. This can’t end any other way. I will not let my city fall because of a donor.”

  “You asshole!” I say, glaring at Ronan.

  “Don’t take offense, gorgeous. You’d do the same thing in my position,” Ronan says, brushing his fingers through his brown hair. “Unlike the Royales, I’m not willing to jeopardize those who count on me, even if it means I must bow to another.”

  Bronx releases a deep-ass growl, lacing his fingers through my hand. A figure blurs past the shattered door, setting off my fear instincts like crazy. I tense, darting my gaze from outside to the three vampires surrounding us.

  “Gwen, I’ll block them. I want you to run. I’ll catch up,” Bronx says.

  “You want us to separate?” I ask, my eyes widening.

  “It’s what Laredo would have you do.” Bronx’s face remains expressionless, though I know his words are just loud enough for the others to hear.

  Licking my lips, I nod my head. The fighting technique I practiced with Laredo was the only thing Bronx ever admitted to being good that I learned from my previous blood source. It’s something vampires never expect. Who knew my stubbornness to do as someone says would come in handy?

  “Get ready,” Bronx says.

  Ronan, Nash, and Silas close in, trying to surround us. Bronx curls his fingers into fists, tensing his muscles. He charges forward, spreading his arms wide while bowing. I rush past the four of them to
the glass door, knowing that Bronx can’t block all of them. Instead of running outside, I stop and drop to my hands and knees. Ronan trips over me and skids across the floor. I launch at him and jump on his back. He tries to overpower me, but I punch him in the throat hard enough to stall his breath.

  Hands lock into my hair, ripping me away from Ronan. I scream and flail. Cool breath tickles my ear. Fighting sounds from behind me. Things crash. I can’t turn to look. I think I hear more vampires.

  “Get Gwen!” Bronx shouts.

  “Tell them to back off, Gwen,” Silas says into my ear. “If they don’t, they’re dead. So are the Crescents. All the humans here. If you don’t, you’ll be responsible for the collapse of an entire region. You’ll never survive that. Everyone will want your heart.”

  I lock my fingers to Silas’s, digging my nails into his wrists. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “Maybe you could before.”

  Jerking my head back, I attempt to head-butt Silas. He bends his neck, moving out of the way.

  “Come on, Mr. Baron,” Ronan says. “My brothers will hold them off. So will my security. Follow me.”

  Rage rushes through me at his words, and I narrow my attention on the vampire standing before us. Kicking my leg up, I surprise the hell out of him, managing to hook his neck by my knee. The force of my body throws Silas off balance, and he lets me go. He might now be a vampire, but I’m still a better fighter.

  I manage to kick my other leg up, hanging myself upside down. A few strange-ass noises sound through the air, one coming from Ronan, and I hiss and swing my head back right into Ronan’s junk. He drops me, and I land on my shoulders and flip over to get to my knees.

  “Gwen, behind you,” Mikkalo calls.

  I don’t turn to look, knowing that whoever is coming up will move too quickly to try to catch me when I’m not looking. Instead, I punch in front of me. Nash’s knee buckles and he drops to the floor.

  I crawl forward, my whole body begging me to rest for a moment, but I can’t. Nash darts his arm out to grab me, and I let him. He hops to his feet, spinning me around. Ronan materializes in front of us with his arms open.

  “You promise my guys will live?” I ask Ronan.

  “Gwen!” Jameson yells.

  Ronan nods, gathering me to him. “As long as they don’t fight.”

  I wrap my hands around his neck. “Well, that’s not going to work for me.”

  Linking my hand through his hair, I bend his neck and bite down as hard as I can, filling my mouth with his blood. He automatically shoves me away, taken by surprise. I spin on my feet and punch my fist into Nash’s chest. His eyes widen as he freezes, staring at my fingers impaling him. The pain and desperation, the scent and taste of Ronan’s blood, set me off. My dhampir side takes over, and I crush through Nash’s sternum and tear his heart out.

  Ronan releases a roar behind me. I swivel and throw Nash’s heart at him, hitting him in the face. The Crescent brothers’ shock halts them in place. Confusion washes over them as they realize what I’ve done.

  “Damn it, Gwen. What did I tell you about ripping hearts out?” Jameson says, dodging past the guy I remember being named Conrad. “And biting? You know how jealous that makes me.”

  Bronx, Everett, and Mikkalo take advantage of Jameson’s distraction. They team up and dismember another one of the brothers, one I don’t recall getting his name. Ronan yells, trying to fly at us, but Silas materializes behind him and grabs him by the back of the shirt.

  Ronan turns to fight him off, and I break from Jameson, rushing the asshole. Jameson still manages to beat me, and he rips Silas away from Ronan to hold Ronan to his chest. Fury darkens my vision, and my body moves without me thinking about it.

  Ronan hollers as I punch him so hard that Jameson reflexively arches his back to avoid my fist breaking through the vampire’s bones. Snapping his teeth, Ronan attempts to bite me. Jameson locks his head in place by pulling his hair and severs his head. Ronan’s body drops to the ground, taking me with him.

  My stomach rolls, nausea sneaking up on me.

  “Bronx, what should we do?” Mikkalo asks.

  He materializes next to me. “Let them go.”

  I heave a few breaths, the smell of the dead vampires’ blood wafting through the air, mingling with the scent of burning. Everett helps me slide my arm from Ronan’s body, and I can’t stop my stomach from twisting.

  “Watch out. She’s going to be sick,” Everett says.

  The world blurs as Everett takes me outside and rubs his hand along the length of my back. “Take a few deep breaths. They’re gone.”

  I clutch my knees and look at the burning mansion, at the people crying in the grass, and the destruction caused by my presence.

  They might be gone now, but I know deep in my heart that this isn’t over.

  Chapter 8

  Provoked

  “YOU SHOULD DRINK SOME MORE,” Everett says, massaging his fingers into my shoulders.

  I groan and bow my head between my legs, letting my hair cascade forward. My stomach twists, my mind whirling. Everything catches up to me, and I can’t stop the anxiety and fear from making me sick.

  Mikkalo leans between the seats and offers me his bleeding arm. “Here, Gwen. Let me.”

  I shake my head and turn my face away. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Because you threw everything up,” Jameson says, pouting at me. “Such a waste.”

  I groan a laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

  Everett continues to stroke my back. “I know you’re afraid of getting sick again, but you’re going to be okay. The blood will make you feel better. You have some broken ribs, a knot on your head, and some bruising.”

  “Listen to your health keeper, dandelion,” Bronx says from the driver’s seat. “Don’t be a pain in the balls. We need to keep your wild ass in check. An empty stomach and a few injuries will pull out your dhampir side in full force when provoked. We’re almost at Corona’s, and I probably wouldn’t stop you from punching his heart out. I need you in control so that you don’t.”

  I jerk upright and gawk at him in the rearview mirror. “No fucking way am I going to Corona’s.”

  He tightens his features, turning into the hard-ass I know won’t give me my way. “Yes fucking way you are. I know it’s not ideal, but the Anderson Coven is the only ally that knows the things we do about you and the Barons.” Bronx’s eyes flash silver at me in his reflection. “No one will bother us, and their security is as superior as ours in Crimson Vista. We will be safe there.”

  “I still don’t like it,” I mutter, hanging my head to break my gaze away from his. “The asshole locked me in the basement.”

  He might have a good reason, but I still don’t have to be happy about it. I know I don’t need to remind them. They’d never forget any of the shit I’ve been through. I just want to make my feelings clear because it makes me feel better. It’s bad enough I occasionally have to see Corona in Crimson Vista. Returning to the place he killed Kyler pisses me off on another level.

  Jameson squeezes my knee. Out of the four of them, he’s listened to me work through my feelings the most. “We’ll make him stay there the whole time if you want.”

  I offer him a small smile. “I do.”

  “And it’s just for the night while we call all the city heads in for a gathering. We need our region to prepare for future attacks. Having the Anderson Coven at our side will show unity and support, especially with what we have to deal with in regards to the board.” Bronx taps the navigation screen and sets the autopilot on to meet my gaze. “We can’t let the Barons turn more covens against us. What happened with the Crescents...I failed them.”

  His words hang in the air, and he scrubs his hands down his face. Even though he doesn’t give many of his emotions away, I can tell that losing Ronan, even though he betrayed us, took its toll on him. I think Zaire’s death is truly starting to sink in as well. I can’t help feeling like shit. Not for either
asshole, but for my guys. Their lives have changed so much since I came along, including losing people that have been around for more time than I can even comprehend. Longer than a human life.

  I crawl between the seats and envelop Bronx in my arms instead of the other way around. He inhales a breath against the crook of my neck, savoring the scent of my closeness. I quietly hug him, giving him all the affection he wants until his muscles relax, and he manages to soften his sharp features. I can’t fault him for doing what he thinks is necessary despite the bad feelings I have toward Corona. It’s clear that he’s far better at seeing things outside of us than I am.

  “How much longer? I need to cuddle the hell out of all of you,” I ask, shifting my legs on his lap to straddle him. “Tonight sucked and you deserve to get what you all want and need from me.”

  Bronx releases a soft chuckle. “Ten minutes, but you being here is perfect. I don’t need more.”

  “I think you do. All of you.” I stretch out my arm and pull Mikkalo closer. “And I can’t wait that long.”

  Mikkalo leans in and hugs me to Bronx. “Me either, especially with how you rejected my offering. Will you please try again?” I should’ve known denying his blood might have bothered him.

  I swallow, trying not to frown. Though my stomach clenches at the idea, I nod my head anyway. I know they desperately want to take care of me, and I don’t want any of them to take it personally.

  Mikkalo offers me a relieved smile and bites his arm a second time to hold it out to me. Everyone’s gazes burn over my body, their anticipation even more intense than usual, probably because I’ve never refused their blood before.

  Gliding my tongue across the ribbon of blood, I lick Mikkalo’s arm and mold my lips to the puncture wound. I let the blood seep into my mouth instead of sucking, just testing to see if my stomach will behave.

  It doesn’t.

  Nausea bursts in my belly, and I pull back and press my lips together. I breathe slowly through my nose, trying not to react. Forcing myself to smile, I meet Mikkalo’s gaze and nod my head again and lick my lips.