Blood of Fate: A Vampire Werecat Paranormal Romance (Kings of Sterling Book 4)

by Leeah Taylor

  BlOOd

  OF

  Fate

  Kings of Sterling

  Leeah Taylor

  BLOOD OF FATE

  Copyright © 2020 Leeah Taylor.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incident are the product of imagination, or used in a fictionalized manner. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  Note to the reader

  Blood of Fate is best enjoyed when read in order with the Kings of Sterling Series. This novella follows the Blood of Night, book three, timeline and is a prelude for Ollie and Riley’s steamy passionate romance. A behind the scenes read with fresh scenes and moments not seen in Blood of Night.

  I hope you enjoy and look forward to Ollie and Riley’s steamier full-length upcoming book, Blood of an Alpha.

  Kings of Sterling reading order:

  Blood of a Promise -Lucien and Chelsea

  Blood of my Enemy -Ramsey

  Blood of Night -Damien and Juliette

  Blood of Fate -Ollie and Riley

  Want to start the series with a boxset?

  Kings of Sterling box set books 1-3

  Contents

  Contents

  Ollie | 1

  Ollie| 2

  Riley | 3

  Ollie| 4

  Riley | 5

  Ollie| 6

  Riley | 7

  Ollie| 8

  Riley | 9

  Oliver| 10

  Riley | 11

  Ollie | 12

  Riley | 13

  Ollie | 14

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading!

  For those who love unconditionally

  and without prejudice.

  The world needs more of you.

  Ollie | 1

  Ivy waved on her way to the door. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  Ollie glimpsed over the top of his glasses. “Where are you going?”

  “Um, home to ya know, maybe change, have a shower. We don’t all live here.”

  He chuckled under his breath and gave his attention back to the paperwork in front of him. It was her snark he loved. Ivy was one of the few not to take any crap from him, and it suited him fine. She was a sweet girl and one of the fewer he never took to bed. Cute enough, but she was more like a little sister.

  Pain in the ass. Always on his case.

  He smirked. “I mean, I pay you enough to live here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Be back soon, boss.”

  He nodded and waved. Ivy was his right hand and with Juleps, if he wasn’t around, most of the staff deferred to her.

  “Hey,” he called to the few staff scattered throughout the bar prepping for the night. “Ya’ll go get some dinner before the bar opens. Let’s say an hour. Yeah?”

  He watched as the handful of staff filed out the front door and caught the low chatter outside as the line started forming. Checking his watch, he shook his head. Locals and tourists lined up at the door, ready to drink and party like clockwork every night. It never failed. Maybe they’d get a glimpse at the proclaimed Sterling Sex King.

  It was eyes on him all the time.

  Tossing his glasses down, damned things, Ollie hefted a crate from the bar with a smirk and headed for the backroom. Sometimes he felt like Sterling’s starring attraction. He brought it on himself, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t proud of the reputation. Took a lot of work to become the Sex King.

  He pushed through the door to the back room with a bigger smile. If half his trysts only knew how close he came to falling apart at the seams most of the time, they’d think twice about sharing a bed with him. He managed the scathing itch from his depths the best he knew how. Of all the ways he tried over the years- blood, drugs, or worse. Sex and booze proved to be the best distractions, but neither dulled nor numbed the scraping under his skin entirely.

  It was enough to keep him from doing what the beast wanted. Slaughter through it all to sate a need to see blood. His stomach churned, and the smile vanished. Not happening. He practically growled at the invisible force lingering in the darkness of his core to remind it of where it belonged. Bound and chained down past his soul. Deeper if possible.

  Ollie set the crate down and stalked back toward the corner of the room to a chain-linked enclosure. It wasn’t much, but it was a haven. A place to escape his staff. His brothers. Sterling. Sometimes it was all too much. The bar. The typical image to keep up with a name like Frost.

  The little space in the back room with its small single bed in the corner. A chaotic, but his sort of organized, desk in the other corner gave him peace. Somewhere to escape. He eyed the guitar laying on the bed, fingers twitching to spend the entire night strumming the strings instead of at the bar mixing drinks.

  There was a time all he loved to do was be behind the bar and mixing drinks, but it hadn’t been that way in a long while. A yearning bubbled to close to the surface, near his heart, and he should have buried it back down but succumbed to it instead. The ache pulsed dull but not unnoticed.

  I should have been there. I could have stopped it.

  Twenty years was a long time to get lost. The lifeline cut, leaving him to tread the surface alone. Thanks to Damien. Thanks to Lucien. Hell, if he was honest, thanks to her. But he didn’t blame her. He blamed his brothers for putting her in the position to begin with.

  “Fuck,” he dropped to the edge of the bed and dragged a hand down his face.

  He needed a distraction. And a drink. It always took the edge off. The back-room door whooshed open, and he hung his head. He only wanted a few moments before he had to be the charming Sex King with an easy enough smile on his lips but a scraping in his depths.

  “Hey.”

  The voice did nothing for the foul mood trying to take hold and he lifted his head, glaring at the man leaning into the doorway of his space.

  “What do you want, Drew?”

  Ollie went over to the desk, paging through some invoices. Anything to distract him and make sure Drew knew he wasn’t looking for small talk. Not with him.

  I need to do payroll.

  “You hungry?”

  “Not for anything with you.”

  Twenty years also did nothing for the pain Drew left behind. It was a nasty and jagged mark refusing to heal. Barely held together with some crude duct tape and he ripped it away every time he pulled this shit.

  “Come on, Oll, when are you and I going to work this shit out?”

  His brow shot up, and head whipped toward him. Drew was a cocky son of a bitch if he thought there was ever a cold chance in hell of working anything out. Or entirely delusional. Drew leaned into the doorway as confident as he ever saw him. Ollie forced a laugh and smirk while shaking his head while taking him in. He had to find the humor, otherwise he’d submit to the very thing ruling him.

  “There is no working shit out, Drew. Get over yourself.”

  He didn’t necessarily have a type. But cheaters weren’t his type. The blonde hair and scrawny body weren’t really his type though either. Drew’s personality put him on the hook. He was cocky enough with a layer of sweetness to him and at a time he loved the over confidence. But not now, when he knew better. Drew got off on playing him and making him into a fool.

  Humiliated him.

  “Wouldn’t keep me around here if you didn’t think we’d—”

  “I keep you around because you’re a damn good bartender but that can change.”

  He could easily run the lounge
upstairs. Had hundreds of times.

  Drew took a step in the room and locked onto him.

  “Don’t,” Ollie warned, scowling at him.

  He wasn’t playing the games. The last and only time gutted him.

  Drew was never one to listen, or even heed a warning, and continued to swallow up the gap. He was known to get purposely aggressive to rile Ollie up. Provoke an equally aggressive response. In the past, when it was them, Ollie happily played into the game. But not now, when it put his heart on the line.

  Sex and love didn’t need to go hand in hand. There was no prerequisite, but when love became involved, sex stopped being just the sex. It held the power to destroy every micro feeling in its path, from lust to passion, until there was nothing left. Ollie wasn’t interested in this time around. He’d played and lost. The pieces and fragments still scattered in the shadows.

  “I’m not fucking around,” Ollie gritted out.

  He’d easily rip his heart out and let him feel how painful it was.

  “Come on, we were good together.” Drew reached for him, but Ollie caught him by the wrist. “Great together.”

  “No, Drew, we weren’t. I treated you like a goddamn king and you still went out and fucked every guy that crossed your path as if it were your fucking right.” He shoved his hand away. “And then, to really drive the knife deeper, you came home to me and into my bed, in my home, and fucked me while telling me how much you loved me. I’ve played this game with you and, hear me good, I will not play it again.”

  “And yet,” Drew moved closer. “You still love me.”

  “Yeah,” Ollie nodded. “You’re right. I do. But I will not be the guy that backs down and gives in because of it. I can love you to my grave, but not be with you. I have standards and I’m not about to lower them because I love you. Instead, I raised them fucking higher.”

  He loved him enough it hurt, but Drew had his chance and he blew it. Ollie put up with a lot of bullshit, but cheating was the end of the line. There was no coming back from it and he didn’t care how much Drew tried to sweet talk him.

  Ollie shoved past him to the doorway before turning back and taking in genuine disappointment.

  “Besides humiliating me and turning me into a fool, you know what really pissed me off?”

  Drew scowled. “What?”

  “The fact you knew never thought to find out if maybe I’d be interested in joining. Or better yet, okay with a more open relationship because frankly, Drew, I’d have been fine with it.” Not like his proclivities were any secret. Monogamous, open, guy, girl, none of it ever mattered to him. “All I’d have asked for is open communication. Boundaries. Known me long enough to know where I stand.” He turned away from him. “The fact you didn’t, means you wanted the thrill of the secrecy. Doing it behind my back. And that fucking it hurt because it meant you were getting off on willingly hurting me.”

  “Ollie…”

  “We’re done, Drew. It’s that simple. You could drop to your knees right now and suck me off.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “And I’d be inclined to toss you a twenty to remind you of the whore you are. Now get out of my space and either grab dinner or get upstairs out of my face before you find yourself unemployed.”

  He wretched the door open to the bar and stalked out. Heart in his throat and stomach in his feet. It was never easy with Drew. Always hurt when he forced himself to push him away. Drew almost had it all but pissed it away with his dick sunk in every hole didn’t it didn’t belong instead. His loss.

  Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind the bar, he caught Damien’s reflection in the mirror on the wall. A scowl on his lips and it was nothing new. Ollie worried when his big brother was in a pleasant mood.

  “Shot?” He lined up two shot glasses. “I need a shot. You wanna shot?”

  Damien’s brow pulled together. “Sure.”

  “Great, because I need a shot.”

  The door to the backroom slammed open, and Damien eyed Drew as he stormed out.

  “Oh look, struck out again.” Damien chuckled, dragging the shot closer.

  “Fuck off.” Drew snapped.

  “Aw—”

  “Drink your shot and let it be,” Ollie said.

  He didn’t need Damien making it worse. It was done and over with and he swore if Drew tried the bullshit again, he’d toss him out for good.

  “What are you doing here so early?”

  Damien shrugged, eyeing the shot in front of him. Oh God, if he’s contemplating it, means he’s wallowing.

  “Got nothing better to do.”

  “What? No wolves to go terrorize? The Loft all finished?”

  “Screw. Off.”

  Ollie chuckled. “Going to be a long night if you’re staring down one shot.”

  “Mind your business.”

  Last time I minded my business, this family fell apart.

  Ollie| 2

  Water. Food. Do we have enough tables? We don’t have enough tables.

  “Jet,” he called. The man nodded at the end of the bar. “Grab someone and go down to the basement. Bring up more tables.”

  Ollie scanned Juleps. Fear hung thick in the air. But he expected it. It confused the humans. Wary. An invisible force ravished their homes, their city, and they didn’t understand. To them it was a freak disaster of nature. To the rest of Sterling it was the kind of magic they hadn’t seen in twenty-five years and his gut twisted in knots.

  The vampires and witches drenched the room in suffocating waves of tension. At least they were behaving. He half expected to see vampires suspended in the air and witch blood painting the walls. Instead, the bar filled with a steady lull of chatter and conversation. They were tolerating each other, and it said a lot.

  “What else needs done?” Ivy asked.

  He eyed the slight girl. “There’s two pallets of water in the alley we need to haul in.”

  Looks were deceiving with Ivy. She looked like a barely eighteen-year-old pink haired rebellious teen, but a century old soul stared back at him.

  “I’ll grab Jet and Dash and put their asses to work.”

  Ollie chuckled. “Stack the cases in the back room.”

  Ivy feigned a gasp. “In your coveted space?”

  “Don’t you start,” he laughed. “I know how to share. Just don’t—”

  Ivy wasn’t paying attention. She stared, with her brow pulled together, out into the bar. The chatter disappeared, replaced with an eerie silence, and he gave his attention to the crowd. Witches huddled together, whispering. Vampires only stared. And the humans were more confused than before.

  Ollie heart shuddered in his chest when bright purple eyes, swimming in fiery rage, found his. She looked to be drowning under a weight of a world that had broken her long ago. He yearned to grab her by the fingers, kiss them, and work to put it back together.

  “Who’s the girl with Jules?” Ivy whispered.

  He had to shift to see the girl, and his heart slammed down to his feet. Riley. Cobalt eyes swept over the quieted masses. Unease painted in her expression, and pretty lips pulled down. She looked ready to cower under the scrutiny of the witches. Visibly swallowing, she took in the discontented shock settling over the crowd.

  She’d been nothing but a girl in a picture for years. An idea always out of reach. A welcomed distraction when Drew pulled his shit. Even in a picture, the girl reminded him he was worth more than going back to Drew. Now she was standing within reach, no longer an idea in a picture. I am in trouble. He’d never felt so sick laying eyes on anyone.

  Juliette gave him a gentle nod before tugging Riley behind her and heading for the stairs. Things were about to get ugly. Why is she even here? Did she have a death wish?

  “This is bad,” he muttered.

  “Ya think?” Ivy said.

  He held his breath as Juliette went to the office door, ready to fly across the room if his brother made one move on her. Ollie didn’t get to tell her goodbye. He didn’t even
get the chance to fix any of it.

  Lucien and his dick fucked up royally and Damien, he just fucked up. They were both to blame for the bullshit all those years ago. Sticking her between them in some sick game of tug of war with her heart.

  Damien awarded her enough affection to keep her on the hook, and Lucien filled in the gaps. They competed for her heart without trying. And Juliette, she loved Damien in every way he never deserved while soaking up the adoration from Lucien. They had her right turned upside down. And it left Ollie to put her back together, repeatedly.

  When the office door flung open, the blood roared between his ears. He’d wreck his brother if he laid a finger on her. He wasn’t there to stop it, but he was now. She didn’t deserve to have everything ripped from her. Damien punished her for seeking the love he denied her from the brother willing to give it to her. Ollie didn’t blame her, but he blamed Lucien for taking advantage of her that night.

  The color drained from Damien’s face, and Ollie relaxed. He looked right sick and gutted laying eyes on her. Good, he needed to feel gutted. Ollie hoped he choked on it. He was no better than the witches. Or wolves. Denying her every damn right to family and community. Love. All because he was still a scared little boy.

  “Oh boy,” Ivy muttered. “This is a long time coming.”

  Ollie grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a shot. “About damn time.”

  He put the shot back with a hiss and caught those cobalt eyes watching him, then brilliant purple.

  Juliette nodded toward the bar, and his stomach clenched. “Go on, Ollie will take care of you.” I will? “I’ll come find you.”

  “Are you okay?” Ivy asked.

  He nodded, shaking off the panic. “Yeah, of course I am.”

  “Really? Because you don’t look it.”

  Shooting her a look, he poured another shot. “I’m fine.”

  Oh fuck, here she comes. He swallowed back the whiskey and felt the burn all the way down. Shit. Shit. Okay…Okay. It’s fine. I’m fine.