RUIN
ALEXA B. JAMES
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
incidents and places are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locations, or real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Alexa B James
Edited by Stories Matter Editing
Cover by Covers by Combs
All rights reserved, including the right to
reproduce, distribute, or transmit this book in any
form or by any means. For subsidiary rights please
contact the author.
Email: [email protected]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
RUIN
CHAPTER ONE
KORI
My fingers traced over the cool ridges of a ruby necklace as I held its velvet box.
“What do you think?” Lord Strike asked in a quavering voice as his clammy hand slid through the slit in my red silk dress and oozed a trail of sweat down my inner thigh.
His eager brown eyes studied me as his damp fingers quivered between my legs, inching ever closer to my center. I could practically see the nervousness rolling off the vampire lord in waves.
I was guessing that his nervousness stemmed from the fact that the ruby encrusted gold chain he offered probably cost eight hundred times what his suit, shoes, and wristwatch did combined. This piece of jewelry was likely the most valuable thing he owned, and he’d finally worked up the courage to go all in for a night with the vampire king’s favorite courtesan.
Aside from the sweaty hands, Lord Strike was attractive enough. Half of his head was shaved smooth, reflecting the multicolored lights. Straight dark hair fell over the other half of his head, partially covering his big brown eyes. A black tattoo peeked out of the collar of his shirt. His teeth were white and straight, and his fangs were long and sharp.
I could take the proffered jewelry and give this overeager lord a feeding he’d never forget, but then Lord Strike would probably show up in a few days having sold off the rest of his possessions, after which, he’d never be welcome at the Portland Court again. It was easy to become destitute living in the large dome that arched over Portland. Vampire royals either had a constant income stream from controlling the agricultural sectors or one of the textile or food-product production factories, or they lived on the money they’d amassed before the apocalypse, and that money only dwindled.
“It’s beautiful, Lord Strike,” I said as I caressed the glimmering crimson gems once more, and then I snapped the box closed and handed it back to him. “But I can’t accept it.”
He sucked in a breath, and his fingers froze halfway up my thigh, his eyelids went wide, and he yanked his hand back so fast it was as if he thought my lady parts might bite him.
“Sorry, I …” Lord Strike trailed off as his gaze fell to my neck where I wore a choker glistening with diamonds. It had been a present from King Razor himself. A crestfallen expression fell over the lord’s face.
I leaned in toward the vampire and trailed my fingers over his shoulder. I’d always had an instinct for telling people exactly what they wanted to hear, so I followed my intuition. “I wish I could, Lord Strike. If I could pick anyone here to spend a night with just for pleasure, it would be you. And that’s why I’m telling you this…” I leaned in so close that my cheek brushed his “Do you know who my twin Genevieve is?”
“Of course.” The lord leaned back and nodded, and I could see a spark of interest in his eyes, like he thought I was going to tell him to stick his sweaty hands up my beloved sister’s skirt.
“See who she’s talking to?” I nodded to where my sister had three large vampire dukes practically eating out of the palm of her hand.
People didn’t have trouble telling my twin Genevieve and I apart in personality or looks. We shared the same basic features, dark hair, and petite frame, but where her cheeks were chiseled, mine were round. Where her body was lean and muscular, my body was soft and curvy. Central in the throne room, she laughed, throwing back her head, and the dukes joined her. From the look of it, she had them hanging on her every word.
“See the silver-haired duke with a youthful face,” I said, laying a hand on Lord Strike’s cheek. “His Grace, Duke Blade, is looking for investors. He has a brilliant idea about drilling wells and harnessing geothermal energy in the tunnels outside the dome. He’s going to create limitless electricity and become the richest vampire in Portland Dome. Go tell him that you have enough ration tickets to pay forty miners three rations a day for ninety days, which should be enough time to mine the first well. All you want is a stake in the company.”
Lord Strike’s brow furrowed, and he pushed back his hair. “I’m a vampire. I drink blood. I don’t have any ration tickets for humans.”
I forced a smile on my lips. “Sorry, I’m being confusing, Lord Strike.” I tapped the velvet box. “This necklace would sell for ten thousand ration tickets which would provide about forty workers three ration tickets for ninety days. Duke Blade doesn’t like to spend his own money. He’ll give you a decent share if you can provide the bulk of the workforce. You’ll be rolling in ruby necklaces by Christmas. Will you still want me then? Because I’ll be hoping that you’ll return to me.”
“Of course, I’ll…” The dark-haired lord tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. “Oh—oh. I should go talk to his grace.” He turned toward the dukes but then suddenly spun back. “Yeah, I’ll find you again, Koribella—when I can afford you.”
The lord bee-lined through the crowd in the throne room. He headed straight for the duke with the velvet box held up like a torch lighting his way.
It was probably all in my head, but I could swear that the eager lord’s slimy perspiration still coated my thigh. With a sigh, I straightened my dress and strode through the throne room. Techno music pulsed through the Vampire High Court of Portland. The room was mostly dark, but blue Ignis flames flickered over several vampire’s hands. I passed a vampire who twirled his hand in the air with a stream of Aquam water spiraling up from his fingers.
There was only one qualification to become a courtesan, and that was that we were mage bloods.
Every courtesan in this room was born with a magical power lacing their blood, and as the vampire’s drank from us, they could use our ability as their own for a time, or at least u
ntil our blood wore off in a week or so.
As I walked, my gaze passed over the crowd. I paused for a second when I noticed the consort kneeling before the throne with her head bobbing up and down between King Razor’s legs. King Razor’s bald head was arched over a fair-haired courtesan’s neck as she gripped onto the throne’s armrest. A large vampire stood behind the courtesan, his suit pants were down, and his long shaft pumped into her from behind. I could hear the group grunting and groaning over the techno beat.
They weren’t the only ones in the room feeding. All around the large, marble throne room, fangs were nestled in flesh as groups of men and women twisted together. Biting was almost always paired with sex as the sensation of vampire fangs piercing skin hurt like hell.
I headed toward the wide throne room exit, when the doors opened, and three very familiar vampires stepped through. I pulled up short, managing to stop just before we collided. My heart tripped as I caught my breath before the three warriors.
“Excuse me,” I mouthed the words.
The three men were frequent visitors to the Portland Court over the past five years. They always stood out in the crowd, not just because of their startling looks but because they wore scuffed jeans, work boots, and hardened expressions.
Everyone just called these warriors ‘The Queen’s Three,’ but after some digging, I knew that the tall, dark-haired warrior with a wicked smile was named Ruin. The boisterous vampire’s face showed signs of frequent and recent combat, the bridge of his nose protruded from what looked like a few breaks and scars crossed his chin. He was watching me now, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mirth as his lips pulled up in a grin.
“Excuse… us,” he mouthed back, and butterflies fluttered in my belly.
The vampire beside him shifted, and I looked at the warrior named Death. I had never heard Death utter so much as a word when these three delivered messages to the King of Portland, but Death’s presence filled the room. His hair was nearly as pale as ivory, falling down his wide chest. The vampire’s dark eyes and blood-red lips stood out in an almost startling way. When his gaze fixed on me, it was as if I was the only thing that existed in the world.
The third warrior, Ash, smacked Death’s chest, drawing my attention to him. He was the leader of the group from what I could discern. When he turned toward me, his jaw clenched as his brown eyes narrowed. In the last five years that I’d been a courtesan, I often found all three of these warriors watching me, and I thought that maybe they felt this strange, unspoken connection between us as I always had, but with Ash, I wondered if he was just glaring at me because he didn’t like me.
“We should get out of her way,” Ash said to Death and Ruin in a low, deep voice.
The three warriors stepped just out of my path, and we passed within inches of each other in silence. Silence. That was all we ever had between us, years of charged silence, stolen glances, and near touches.
My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest as I stepped out into the open entrance hall. I paused to glance over my shoulder, only to meet Death’s dark stare. The whole world seemed to fall away as our gazes collided. My breath caught, and I squeezed my shaking hands at my sides. I wanted to say something to him so much, maybe even just hello. I could call out the word, consequences be damned.
Death nodded and turned back, heading into the party.
“You could just tattoo Desperate for The Queen’s Three on your forehead if you want to be any more obvious,” a familiar voice drawled from behind me.
I spun to find my older brother Brendan blowing out a cloud of tobacco, filling the air with the acrid scent of mint mixed with an astringent sour undertone. He leaned against the wall, and his lips pulled to one side in a sly smirk. There were four of us siblings in our small family, and we all bore a striking resemblance to each other. Our hair was curly and black as ink. Our features were sharp and eyes ever vigilant. But, more than once someone commented that the longer they knew us, the more dissimilar we all appeared from one another.
Unlike the rest of us, Brendan’s features were wide and bold. His dark hair curled in a halo around a face with a broad nose, cleft chin, and lazy, confident smile. He wore a gray suit, and diamonds glinted from his wrists and ears, and I couldn’t help but wonder which one of his patrons gave him the matching jewelry set. Courtesans often wore as many of their patron gifts as they could get away with, but Brendan’s choice in adornment was always subtle and deliberate.
I smacked the tobacco out of his hand and ground it into the checkered marble floor with the toe of my high heeled boot. “Want to announce that any louder, Brend? It’s just—you know—treason. No big deal or anything.”
Brendan smirked. “We both commit much worse treason every single day as we’re high-ranking officers in the human rebellion.”
I kicked his leg, but he sidestepped me easily. “Kori, with the noise level in there and me facing this direction, someone would have to be within three feet of us to overhear.” He glanced both ways, shrugged, and stood from the wall. “Our secrets are, once again, safe. What I want to know is why, after I gift wrapped that ruby necklace for you, you sent Lord Strike to offer geothermal workers he doesn’t have to drill the first well. Do you really think that guy is management material?”
I leaned into the cool marble wall beside Brendan and sighed. “Are you still upset that Duke Blade is taking credit for the geothermal plans?”
A muscle ticked in Brendan’s chiseled jaw, and he pushed off the wall and paced in a half circle around me. “Why would I care who takes credit for the plan? It’s not like humans are legally allowed to invest in it. As long as it makes the standard of living higher for the humans inside of the dome, I’m satisfied.”
I couldn’t help but shake my head at the obvious lie. Part of his words were true. Brendan would die for the people in Portland Dome. We all would. That was why we secretly joined the human rebellion years ago and risked discovery every day, but my brother wanted credit for his brilliant ideas, and this wasn’t his first patron who’d claimed Brendan’s designs as their own.
Brendan leaned into the wall beside me again and nodded back into the throne room. “Take the necklace. Vampires feed from us, Kori. Stop feeling sorry for them or you’ll never pay off your debt to the king.”
No courtesan was ever really going to be able to pay off their debt. We started incurring debt the moment we entered into training as courtesans and kept racking up fines for every year we were an apprentice. Even after we became courtesans, the rent for our rooms in the palace was astronomically high and increased every year. Along with that, it cost a fortune for the pre-dome-time clothing and specialty products essential to gaining and keeping quality and long-term patrons.
“Lord Strike was an investment,” I lied, and from the lazy-eyed stare my brother shot at me, he knew it.
Griff, a large, hulking mage, stormed out of the throne room, his glowing yellow gaze combing over the space. The animal mage’s attention landed on Brendan before skipping over to me. Griff was one of the largest humans I’d ever seen, almost as tall as a vampire. The suits he was forced to wear never seemed to fit right. Wrinkles crossed the man’s forehead and gathered around his sharp eyes. A long beard braided down from his chin. Griff had the rare blood mage power of being able to turn into any animal, and the grizzled old man had been tasked with protecting and minding the courtesans of Portland’s High Court since before my siblings and I became apprentices.
“What are you two doing out here?” Griff growled. He probably didn’t mean to bark the words at us like a rebuke, but his voice naturally came out harsh.
“Conspiring,” Brendan said as he leaned back against the wall.
Griff pointed into my brother’s face. “I saw the way Duchess Sling grabbed you. Do I need to speak with her?”
Brendan pursed his lips and absently rolled the back of his diamond stud earring with two fingers. “Not yet.”
“If I see it again, I’m not ask
ing your permission to have words with Sling. She should know better.” Griff grunted, and his gaze shifted to me. “Koribella, you need to come with me. His royal majesty is calling for you, and he’s in a mean mood over the arrival of those warriors. I hope you’ve been listening to me and keeping away from them.”
“I always listen to you, Griff,” I muttered as I pushed off the wall
“Ha,” he barked with a shake of his head. “Worrying about you three and your damn pick-pocket little brother is a full-time job on top of the one I already have.” He muttered something under his breath as he headed back into the party.
“I’ll be staying here,” Brendan called out from behind us. “Just tell any patrons where to find me, other than Duchess Sling.”
The marble room was brighter, and the techno quieted to only a faint thrumming in the background. Vampire royals and courtesans gathered around the dais, their suits and dresses rumpled and hair tousled. Several courtesans were naked, and blood still clung to their vampire companion’s lips.
King Razor rubbed his hands angrily over his bald head as we approached. He hadn’t bothered to zip up his pants or tuck himself back in. He just sat there with his penis flopped limp against his stomach. Before the king stood Ash, Ruin, and Death. All three warriors had their arms crossed over their wide chests as they glowered at the vampire king of Portland.
Griff went to stand at the base of the stage, his burly arms crossing over his chest.
“Kori is here, my love,” the consort said as she leaned against the king’s massive throne. Mira Aquam had been the consort of Portland and the king’s bonded mate for almost a year now—replacing her sister, whom King Razor executed for treason in a fit of jealousy. Mira was one of the most beautiful humans I’d ever seen. She was petite, with blazing red hair and a curvy, sensuous build. Freckles speckled her cheeks and nose. Diamonds dripped down her front and a dress of pure gold clung to her skin.
King Razor absently ran a possessive hand up her front. Blood dripped from his lips as he glowered down. “The Queen of Seattle continues to insult me every chance she gets,” King Razor growled as his brown eyes shone with hate. “You’re here… warriors, among vampire royalty, constantly coming in to deliver your queen’s demands. She should be sending her dukes or earls or at the very least lords. But no, for years and years she continues to insult me.” He threw a hand toward the group. “If you think you’re among equals, why don’t you just pick a courtesan?”
Ruin: A Reverse Harem Dark Fantasy Vampire Romance (Fire & Blood Book 1) Page 1