Queen of The Hill (Knight Games)

by Genevieve Jack

  Queen of the Hill

  Genevieve Jack

  Carpe Luna Publishing

  Queen of The Hill: The Knight Games series, Book 3

  Copyright © 2014 Carpe Luna Publishing

  Published by Carpe Luna, Ltd., PO Box 5932, Bloomington, IL 61701

  www.carpeluna.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  FIRST EDITION: MAY 2014

  eISBN: 978-1-940675-08-4

  Cover design by Steven Novak

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio.

  www.polgarusstudio.com

  v 1.0

  Books By Genevieve Jack

  Knight Games Series

  The Ghost and The Graveyard

  Kick The Candle

  Queen of the Hill

  (and more to come!)

  CHAPTER 1

  Wake-Up Call

  Sex is different with someone you love. New sex extinguishes a fire; old love stokes the embers. In a way, sex is a lot like wine—drinkable as soon as it ferments. But if you allow it to age, the result is a visceral experience—a nirvana of the senses.

  When it came to Rick and me, we’d aged together for multiple lifetimes. Every touch elicited an irresistible array of memories. Each caress ignited a new flavor on the emotional spectrum. Sweet and aromatic. Complex. Layered. Having a long finish. An enticing intoxication of hormonal chemistry and raw heat.

  I loved Rick.

  In bed beneath me, he dug his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck and tugged. I lifted my cheek from his chest to meet his gaze. His hooded stare held nothing short of reverence, his pupils almost black with need. “You must know you bewitch me in a way that has nothing to do with magic. I have crossed oceans of time to be with you. Lifetimes. I would do it again, but I hope I never have to.”

  “You won’t,” I promised. “We’re together now, and I plan to be careful with myself.”

  I trailed my fingertips up the side of his chest and over the length of his arm. Iridescent purple magic followed my touch, markedly beautiful beside his dark hair and the silky red pillowcase under his head. The streak wasn’t something I was consciously producing. Power poured out of me with so much love. At journey’s end, my left hand linked with his, my engagement ring squeezed inside the web of his long fingers.

  The blue and silver cushion of gems that marked our coming nuptials was both old and new. The ring itself was antique, commissioned in the 1700’s, but its place on my finger was a novelty. Rick had asked me to marry him only a few short weeks ago, and I had said yes. I was engaged. To be married. To Enrique Ordenez—Rick. My caretaker.

  I pressed my lips against the side of his neck. The heat of my breath brought his blood to the surface. Liquid ambrosia. My personal recipe for the elixir of life. During my first lifetime as a witch, I’d made the decision to store an immortal part of my soul inside Rick when Reverend Monk burned me at the stake in 1698. Of course, I don’t remember all the details, having died and been reborn several times since. But I had pieced together this much: I didn’t have to give Rick my immortality. I chose to. By using magic to create a symbiotic relationship between the two of us, I’d ensured we would be together forever. A lovely side effect was his blood healed me, and my blood strengthened him.

  “I need to be inside you,” he whispered into my ear. His hand found purchase between the dimples of my lower back. I obliged, shifting my hips to join with him. He groaned and rolled me over.

  Nestled under his rock-hard body, his lips brushed my ear as he whispered a mellifluous string of Spanish syllables. The exotic adoration lulled me into a blissful state with each magnificent thrust. I had no idea what he said, but I knew exactly what he meant.

  “Look down,” Rick whispered.

  “Down?” I tipped my face to the side. My hair swung below me in my line of sight. We were levitating above the mattress, suspended in midair.

  “Me?” I asked.

  “You,” he whispered.

  I sighed. The power from our connection flowed through me as Rick gently guided my chin back to center and his mouth crashed down on mine. His lovemaking became more fervent, and I was quick to respond in kind.

  Knock-knock-knock.

  We both ignored the sound at the door and came together in a mind-blurring crescendo. I clung to him fervently through airborne aftershocks. The internal fireworks were still going off when the interruption came again.

  Knock- knock-knock. “I have returned twice. I shall not return again,” came Soleil’s shrill voice.

  We dropped like a two-ton weight. The bed groaned in protest.

  “She sounds pissed,” I said.

  Rick rolled off me, pulling the sheet over our spent bodies. “Enter,” he called.

  The door swung open to reveal Soleil’s tight expression and ballerina-like physique. I was sure the lock had been engaged from the inside, but then, as the madam of Maison des Étoiles, Soleil had ultimate control. Each room was enchanted to bring to life the desires of the patrons. Soleil was celestial fae. In fact, her sunny disposition had saved my ass from death by vampire in the past—the winter solstice, to be exact. Fae magic played a big part in the lure of her bordello, too, and was why Rick and I were there. I’d had my first threesome in this room with Rick and … Rick.

  “Grateful, may I remind you that you have a dress fitting today at noon?” Soleil asked. She tucked a stray honey-colored hair back into her chignon with a set of perfectly manicured fingers.

  I yawned and stretched my arms above my head. “That’s tomorrow. Remember? On Saturday.”

  “It is Saturday.”

  With a flippant giggle, I said, “Very funny. That would mean Rick and I have been, uh, in this room for more than twenty-four hours.”

  Soleil’s gracefully arched brows pinched together over her nose. “Exactly. Not only are we going to be late, I need the room.”

  Sheets clutched to my bosom, I sat up and grabbed my cell off the nightstand to check the time. “Shit!” I repeated the curse as I dispensed with modesty and leapt from the bed in search of my clothes. It was like an Easter egg hunt. My panties were hanging from the corner of the wardrobe. My jeans were in a heap under the legs of a Louis XVI chair. With my bare bum in the air, I bent over to pick them up, then glanced back to see if Soleil was staring.

  She giggled, light and clear as silver bells, and averted her eyes.

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

  “This wouldn’t be a problem if you allowed enough time for proper wedding preparations,” she said between laughs. “A March date is too aggressive. It is already mid-January.”

  I sighed. “It has to be the afternoon of the spring equinox—Ostara,” I said. “On March twentieth, the magic surrounding new beginnings will be at its apex. It is the perfect day to renew our life together and begin a new marriage. A metaphysical phoenix from the flames.”

  “Sounds superstitious,” Soleil said.

  Arms filled with clothes, I ducked into the bathroom to freshen up. Although I closed the door behind me, I could still hear Rick’s reply.

  “The wedding will come and go; the marriage is what’s important. If Grateful wants to start our marriage on the day of new beginnings, so be it. I don’t care if she walks down the aisle in jeans and a T-shirt and we eat her blessed Pop-Tarts fo
r dinner.”

  I grinned. Good man.

  “I doubt she would be pleased with such circumstances,” Soleil said.

  She was right.

  “If something is not to her liking, she can change it,” Rick said.

  “You mean, use magic.”

  “She’s getting stronger. Her power has blossomed and her magic is as good or better than mine,” Rick said.

  “I thought she was still learning her spells,” Soleil said.

  “Natural magic. She levitated just a moment ago, and you saw how she called the storm during the solstice. Learning the spells will come with time, but natural magic is more powerful than any potion or incantation.” Rick sounded so proud. My heart swelled thinking about how he stuck up for me.

  “Well, considering she might have a few things to think about on her wedding day other than magic, let’s hope we can make it to the dress shop on time,” Soleil quipped.

  I bound from the bathroom, fully dressed and face washed. My hair was a wild mess, but I yanked the blonde waves into a bun at the crown of my head. “I’m ready.”

  “Great. We can still make it.” Soleil opened the door for me. “Is Michelle meeting us at the dress shop?”

  “Oh no, Michelle!”

  * * * * *

  “So, you forgot about me. No big deal. I’m just your matron of honor. There’s no legal requirement that you invite your matron of honor to help pick out your wedding dress.” Michelle crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her index finger on her bicep.

  “Again, I am so sorry I didn’t call you earlier. I’m just stoked you could make it on short notice,” I said.

  She gave me a tight smile. “Well, I’m here.” She circled her hands in the air as if her presence was evidence enough of my forgiveness.

  I sensed she wasn’t over it.

  “Schall I pull zee selection of dresses for you, Miss Knight?” Gertrude Evenrose, owner and proprietor of Carlton City’s premier bridal emporium, Evenrose Bridal, stared at me over her bifocals, clearly perturbed that it was fifteen minutes past our appointment time, and I still hadn’t tried on a dress.

  “Of course, Gertrude. I apologize for the delay,” I said.

  “Vell, I haf a feelink you vill decite quickly,” she said, a note of insistence in her voice. She took off like a whirlwind, sweeping through the store and selecting various styles from the racks. Her slight four-foot-nine frame was swiftly buried under yards and yards of white fabric.

  “Do you need to know my size?” I asked.

  “Nein. Zee dresses vill be ehltered to shpecifications post purchase. As you ehr khleerly a size eight, you shoult haf no problem vith zee samples.”

  “I’m a size six,” I corrected.

  She finished hanging the dresses on a trio of hooks in the dressing room and then turned to scan me from head to toe. “You ehr not,” she said through her teeth. “Now, tryen sie das garment!”

  I jumped like a dog at her command and raced into the spacious changing room. Geesh. I’d faced vampires, demons, shifters, and more in my role as Hecate, but Gertrude Evenrose scared the bejeebers out of me. I thumbed through the stack on the wall. Too poofy, too sparkly, too yellow (who wears a yellow wedding dress, anyway?). And then, hello, gorgeous.

  Slipping the dress off the hanger, I pulled the pearlescent-beaded bodice on and zippered. I didn’t need help. The plunging back ended just above my backside. A set of sparkling silver spaghetti straps slithered over my shoulders and crisscrossed just under my shoulder blades. Despite not having a proper back, the stiff boning across my ribs provided ample support for the girls. From the waist down, satin gazar draped to the floor in two layers, like the petals of an opening flower. More pearls were sewn in swirls along the hem and slit.

  With a beaming smile, I paraded out of the stall and stepped up on the box in front of a three-way mirror to the oohs and aahs of my besties. Gertrude took one look at me and grabbed a pearl choker from her jewelry chest. In moments she had the necklace clipped around my neck, its drop pearl resting naturally in the groove between my collarbones.

  “You look like a princess,” Soleil said.

  “A kind and thoughtful princess who would never forget about her best friend, or not tell her best friend important things about her life,” Michelle added cheerfully.

  I gave her a sharp look, twisting left and then right to get a better look at the plunging back. The dress seemed to defy gravity, like it was holding itself up by magic alone. My smile faded. I stared at my naked scapula in the mirror for a second, then at the pile of discarded clothing next to my purse in the changing room.

  “What is wrong, Grateful?” Soleil asked.

  “I just realized I can’t wear this dress.”

  “Why?” Soleil pointed a graceful hand in my direction. “It is beautiful.”

  Lips pressed together, I turned toward them, my eyes filling with tears. “Nightshade. There’s nothing on my back to conceal her. I don’t want my father to walk me down the aisle knowing I have a sword strapped to my back.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think you could go one afternoon without Nightshade? I mean, the wedding will be during the day, right? Rick will be there.”

  I bit my lip and shook my head.

  Soleil tried to back me up. “She can’t risk it. Not after what happened with Bathory.”

  Oh hell. I’d never actually told Michelle about Anna Bathory, the ancient vampire who had almost killed me in order to complete an invincibility spell from The Book of Flesh and Bone. The omission was a definite violation of our unwritten best friend agreement.

  “What happened with Bathory?” Michelle asked. Her accusing stare darted from me to Soleil with an expression that went from questioning to disappointed pretty damn quick.

  I spread my hands. “I’m sorry, Michelle. For your safety—”

  “For my safety? For my safety, you didn’t tell me what?” Michelle crossed her arms again and glared at me. If looks could kill, I would have burst into flames. Thing is, I still didn’t think it was a good idea to tell her I’d almost been sacrificed on a stone altar less than a month ago. Bathory was still out there, along with her leprechaun sidekick, Naill. Neither would hesitate to destroy Michelle to get to me. I would protect her, but knowing she was vulnerable could ruin her life. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

  With a defeated sigh, I met Michelle’s eyes but gestured toward Gertrude, who was busily straightening racks. “Later, okay?”

  Michelle gave a curt nod. “Okay.”

  Contrary to her words, as her best friend, I was certain she was not okay. In fact, she was pissed at me. Pissed to the point of silence for fear speaking even one syllable might release a deluge of pointed criticisms.

  “Perhaps you should try another dress,” Soleil suggested, attempting to defuse the tension between us.

  “Good idea.” I jumped at the opportunity to change the subject. I did a quick change into a vintage style that was mostly layers of antique ivory lace with a black lace overlay at the top. It wasn’t my favorite but would conceal Nightshade. I returned to the box in front of the three-way mirror. Michelle still looked like she wanted to kill me, and Soleil didn’t even humor me with a pity compliment.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think the style does not do justice to your curves,” Soleil said.

  Michelle turned pursed lips toward me. “Beautiful,” she spat, crisp and short with no resemblance to its proper meaning. “Hey, speaking of the wedding, have you figured out where you are going to live yet?”

  Damn. Buttons successfully pushed. Michelle knew this was a touchy subject with me and no doubt intended the question as verbal retribution. I sidestepped. “I’m going to live in my house.”

  “No. After you’re married. Is Rick going to move in with you? Or are you going to live with him?”

  Ah, so she wasn’t going to let it go. “It’s complicated.” My magic was fueled by the element of air, he
nce the importance of my attic. Rick’s was fueled by earth, hence his stone cottage. Our differences made us stronger on the battlefield but made living together problematic.

  “Right,” Michelle said. “Because you need different things than he does. Funny how I know that because I can be trusted … Because I’m your best friend.”

  “You are not going to live together?” Soleil interrupted, appalled.

  A drum line kicked off in my heart—lub-dub, lub-dub, lubidy dub. My hands started to sweat. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to think about this right now.

  Michelle didn’t quit. She was like a pit bull with her teeth in me. “Are you going to keep your nursing job when you are Mrs. Ordenez? Wait? Will you be Mrs. Ordenez? Are you going to change your name?” Michelle fired off the questions like bullets.

  Soleil’s gaze bounced between Michelle and me as if she were watching a tennis match.

  The room grew hot. I took a deep breath. The walls swayed, and my stomach twisted. Saliva filled my mouth. I swallowed and swallowed again, but it just kept coming.

  “Are you going to adopt kids?” Michelle asked.

  That did it. I was going to be sick. I raced for the nearest door, one that led to the back alley.

  “Nein! You khen not go out of dooers, Miss Knight,” Gertrude shrieked, but I was already in the alley, the mid-January cold biting into my skin. I doubled over and heaved toward the pavement. Nothing came out. I hadn’t eaten anything all day.

  An arm slipped around my shoulders, and Michelle’s dark head and concerned face appeared next to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Grateful. I was angry at you, but I didn’t mean to make you ill.”

  “No. I deserved it. I should have told you everything. I just didn’t want to burden you. My life is so—”