I tried to hide my disappointment, but I was too tired. It was all over my face, and all three of them saw it.
“Fine. I need a bath and sleep.” I took the bag and headed down the hall to another set of stairs.
“Kimber, we have to figure out—”
I spun and stared at them. “We’ll figure out who gets to fuck me later, okay? I don’t feel like having that discussion right now in the hallway.”
No one moved.
I marched down the hall, away from everyone.
If they were moving me, I needed alone time. I needed a bath, and I needed sleep. I didn’t care if the sun was coming up. I had been up all night, been betrayed, and watched four men beheaded.
That was enough be-ing for the day.
Pushing the door open on my new apartments, one of the housemaids—Roisin—was just scurrying out of the bedroom.
“Your grace, hello. I have the bed all made up, and the bath was just drawn.” She smiled. “May I help you with anything else? Your bag, perhaps?”
“No, Roisin, thank you. You’ve exactly covered the bases I needed. If you could put in a request for a late lunch with the kitchen, you can have the morning.”
She curtsied with a smile and hurried out.
Tossing the bag on the chair in the bedroom, I headed straight for the bath and stripped out of the filthy riding clothes I’d been in for too long.
I almost wanted to dive headfirst into the milky white bathwater that had rose petals floating on it. Instead, I lowered myself into the deep, claw-footed tub, and sank down until the water was at my chin.
I couldn’t feel the tears on my face for the warm bathwater.
None of this was how I had imagined life.
I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore.
The betrayal of a man I thought—no, I did love, was killing me.
I had known him since I was a child. I had always been around him. How could I have not known his true feelings?
It meant that his whole existence in my life was a lie.
He had never approved of me being an acolyte or teaching at the temple. All of his support and encouragement were pretty lies.
I was nothing to him except a means to an end and a place to dump his cum when he felt like it.
And withhold it when he needed to.
I sank deeper into the bath. I let the water cover everything but my nose and mouth. I could hear nothing but my own breathing in the water.
Without the sounds of the outside world, I could work on controlling my breathing and my runaway thoughts.
The gentle scent of roses drifted through the air and to my mind. They were comforting. Sweet. They reminded me of my mother’s garden in our little backyard.
The air would smell of flowers always. The spring was the most fragrant, with the scent changing every week or so. By early summer, though, the shifting fragrances were gone, and only one lovely scent remained.
Summer roses.
My parents were nearly six hundred when they decided to have a child. They were unsure and had kept putting it off.
Immortality had its advantages.
I smiled. No, I had not been as lucky as some in S’Kir to be hundreds of years old and still have their parents. But the years I did have them had been amazing.
Best of all, I had roses to remind me of them.
Reality was going to intrude soon, but I floated there in the silence with my breath and the scent of roses as long as I could.
Eventually, the water cooled, and I went to bed.
Chapter Eighteen
~ Gwynnore ~
Cape Argent, Nunavut, Canada
Atlantic Coast
I patted my face. Soft fur tickled the pads of my fingers. I asked curiously, “What do I look like?”
The Arch of Sight had done its work on us.
Lord Cato opened his mouth, the inside purple. I was pretty sure he was grinning, but it was really hard to tell with his black scaly snake-face crinkling in an unbecoming way. He stated, “You’re a wolf.”
“Oh.” I crossed my eyes and examined the black, furry snout I now had. “I think I like that.”
Lord Pippin’s normal face continued to flicker in and out of existence, there one second and gone the next, like a faulty television. “Better than me, that’s for sure.”
Lord Otto poked at his right cheek. “What about me? What kind of freak do I look like?”
The fur on my face twitched, as my mouth turned down into a frown. No one else spoke, not wanting to answer him. I cleared my throat, and grumbled, “You look like you. But you have scars all over your skin. Ugly ones.” They were deep too, but I didn’t mention that.
He pulled his blond brows together. Silent.
That was pretty much how I thought he’d take it. The image of his face was…private. The asshole Overlord was obviously damaged by the life he’d had.
Lord Xenon looked down at his own body. “At least, the blood isn’t ruining my clothes. They don’t appear to be affected.” The Overlord was drenched in blood. His head. His throat. His hands. Any exposed skin was covered in it. The dark crimson gore ran down his face, the flow never stopping, but it didn’t pool at his feet. The blood disappeared there, gone as if it never was. His black eyes lifted to our silent group. “I only brought two pairs of these shoes.”
I snorted. The mysterious lord was like me.
Pampered bitches at heart.
We were totally unashamed about it, too.
Our group turned inside the warm, black cave we stood inside and looked back at the Original druid and his two best friends. The three of them delayed outside in the snowstorm. They wordlessly scrutinized our forms.
Lord Belshazzar lifted a black brow on his red “devil” face. “We’re waiting, Master Niallan.”
The Original druid flicked a finger at my father, mumbling absently, “I knew he’d look like that.” He shook his head of blond hair and snapped himself out of it. The druid walked forward and passed under the archway, with his friends following on his heels. His stunning green eyes crinkled at the corners when he stopped next to me and winked. “Your majesty, might I say you look beautiful as a wolf?”
I sniffed and lifted my snout into the air. “No, you may not.”
Master Niallan’s skin was now the color of pure gold—with thick veins of red showing underneath and creeping over his face, pumping underneath in time to his heartbeat. The druid snickered and removed his heavy jacket. “It’s not surprising Lord Cato and you are vicious animals. Like father, like daughter, I suppose.”
Lord Cato smirked—definitely a smirk. It wasn’t any more pleasant to look at than before. I believed he was proud of the druid’s words, though he switched topics. “What do we do now? Keep walking?”
“Yes, follow me.” Master Niallan draped his jacket over his right arm and strolled deeper into the cave. “It’s another hike. Or, the same hike, I suppose I should say.”
I picked up my bags and quickly followed.
Ysander and Devin tracked their ruler while the files they held were shuffled in their hands for an easier hold. The two druid pricks looked like skeletons, all white bone. Their bony fingers drummed on the file folders—tap, tap, tap—while they sauntered along, completely at ease. All-in-all, their images freaked me out the most, or, more like, how they weren’t bothered by it.
They were the dead. And they didn’t give a shit.
Perhaps I wasn’t so tolerant.
Master Niallan should positively kill both of them.
The cave gradually opened to a cliff. Stars twinkled overhead, and waves crashed against the jagged, deadly rocks below. A bridge jutted out from the edge and carried over the Atlantic Ocean and stopped at a familiar road—sans snow storm. The gentle wind caressed my fur, and the scent of salt water pleased my snout.
Master Niallan pointed a finger. “Once we cross the bridge, the Arch of Sight is done. We’ll be beautiful once more.”
I adjusted my h
eavy bags in my grip. “Is that the road we started on?”
He nodded once in affirmation. “We’ll travel the same path to the heart of my stronghold.”
Awesome. These bags would weigh a ton by then.
The weather was pleasant, at least. Not too hot, not too cold. It was perfectly delightful.
I set my cumbersome bags down and took off my winter jacket. I chucked it at the Original druid—all the Overlords’ hands were full carrying their own luggage. “Hold that for me. And try not to ruin it.”
Master Niallan’s lips curved into a sinful grin. He draped my coat over his jacket on his arm. “Are you positive you don’t want Ysander or Devin to carry your bags?”
“I’m sure.” I didn’t look at them, a shiver already stealing up my spine at their ghastly forms. I lifted my bags again. “I’m ready now.”
He winked. “As long as you’re ready, your majesty.”
I cast a squint in his direction.
The Original druid’s lips twitched. “You actually look frightening when you scowl with that wolf face. Should I be frightened, your majesty?”
“Always,” I grumbled. I shuffled on my feet, weighed down by my bags. “Can we go already?”
He snickered and sauntered onto the bridge. “They really can carry your bags for you.”
“I’d rather take a header into those rocks than have them touch anything of mine.” I huffed and slid beside the “devil” as we walked over the bridge. “Why don’t you have a car waiting for us? Or a helicopter?”
“Because I like nature. It’s in my blood. Automobiles ruin the environment that we live in.”
Damn druid.
We eventually crossed over to the road.
I stumbled, and my hair—not fur—fell down around my face. We were back to normal. I pushed on, griping, “How about some servants? Can’t they take our—”
“Your majesty, give me one of those bags,” Lord Cato stated calmly. “I can carry it, no problem.”
My feet came to an abrupt halt. “Really?”
“Really.” My father set his luggage down and took one of mine from me, somehow, maneuvering it under his left arm and picking up his own luggage too. He didn’t appear hindered by it, and his smile barely showed. “Ready now, your majesty?”
I blinked. “Yes, my lord.”
I turned and hurried to catch up with Lord Belshazzar. The Overlord didn’t glance back, but his pace subtly slowed, allowing me to reach him without running. Neither of us commented on the bitty fact that our vampire senses worked again now that we were here—that I simply wanted to walk next to him, as he did me. We marched back up the same steep hill in companionable silence, while dead leaves crunched under our boots. An owl filled the air with its powerful hoot, the arresting creature hidden up in the limbs of the barren winter trees.
“Is the weather always like this?” I asked curiously.
“The nature around us continues to change with the seasons, but, yes, the temperature is constantly the same in my stronghold,” Master Niallan answered. The stars winked down on our group, lighting our trek up the hill. “The druids here prefer it this way.”
Lord Belshazzar grunted. “Finally, you speak of your people’s wishes.”
Master Niallan flicked a quick glare at the lord. “I am not a dictator, as you seem to believe, and my people are not all ‘fucked in the head’ as you said before. I merely have different laws for druids, compared to the severe laws that govern your people. Druids are allowed more freedom than yours—as they should have.”
“We all know that’s the way you feel,” Lord Belshazzar countered. He stepped over a root—the root I had tripped over before—without pointing out his vigilance versus my previous lack of it. The lord shook his head. “There is a difference between being a kind ruler and being a careless ruler. Your people have been running amok and creating chaos. Surely you can see that.”
Hell, even I’d witnessed the druids’ brazen behavior.
“I don’t care what my people do to the humans.”
“You should when their actions are thoughtless. They’re becoming increasingly bold.”
Master Niallan sighed heavily. “I’m also not afraid of a war between our people if it ever comes to that. We would win. Humans are no match for vampires and druids, despite their large numbers.”
Lord Belshazzar wasn’t even out of breath from our tramp through these woods—again. “You’re correct. We would. But we would lose good people during the fight. And, in the end, we’d have to accommodate the humans, so that wars wouldn’t continue to erupt needlessly. Druids and vampire citizens alike would find fault in that.”
The Original druid snorted. “We could annihilate them.”
That was an old conversation. We all knew that.
We could wipe humans out. If we wished.
But not everyone wanted them gone…
“And take away our pleasures?” One of the lord’s black brows lifted. “It would be akin to no longer having a cellphone. How would your people like that? About as well as mine would, I’d presume.”
Master Niallan swatted a branch aside and stayed quiet. Because, deep down, he had to know all this already.
“You need to take control of them,” Lord Belshazzar stated calmly. “Now. While we’re here. I don’t give a fuck how you do it, but take care of your people before it’s a shit storm you can’t control. They need to compose themselves before they make things even worse.”
His green eyes clashed with the lord’s icy blue gaze. “Do not tell me what to do with my own people.”
Lord Belshazzar shook his head slowly. “That attitude will be your downfall. And make my life harder in the long run.”
Master Niallan turned his attention to where he walked. “I wonder, Lord Belshazzar. Do you know that your ego is as big as mine?”
“I do.” The Overlord’s lips lifted into a small, cruel smile. “But I also know I’m the biggest motherfucker here too. I have the balls to back up my ego, where you do not.”
The Original druid snickered. “Fuck, you’re just like him.”
My brows puckered in confusion. I glanced back and forth between them, hoping for a tidbit of information while they argued.
Lord Belshazzar’s smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You would,” Master Niallan grumbled under his breath. He stopped as we crested the hill again and spread his arms wide, our coats still dangling over one of his arms. “We’re here. It looks better than the crumbling decoy, don’t you think?”
I damn near swallowed my tongue. “Uh…yes.”
Deep in a valley lay a city of gold. No border surrounded it, as the druids had no need for one. Tiny, adorable buildings lined pebbled streets, lights still lit inside businesses and homes, even in the middle of the night. The scents of bread and sweets already wafted on the breeze—bakers up early and working. And in the middle of their sanctuary sat a castle, a large golden castle that glimmered under the moonlight.
Master Niallan tilted in my direction, pointing a finger, and fake whispering, “Don’t forget, your majesty. The tallest tower is where my room is.”
I lifted my brows and laughed—disgusted and reluctantly amused. “My god, do you ever stop?”
His lips twitched. “Only when we’re both exhausted and ready to pass out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He’d fallen asleep after our bout of sex.
I sure as hell hadn’t.
Even if it had been interesting.
And…fun.
I could—grudgingly—admit that to myself.
However, he was no Lord Belshazzar. Not at all.
The quiet lord standing next to me could go all night long until we were drained of all energy and spent from passion. The Overlord ticked every single one of my boxes in the bedroom. Every single one of them. If no one was around right now, I’d tackle him to the ground and demand that he fuck me. I wanted him again
—already. I had ever since I’d left his bedroom, the constant alluring thought of his beautiful body pressed against mine tempting.
Master Niallan’s green eyes sparkled. “Object all you want. But your eyes are dilating right now while you look at me.” He winked. “I’ll be seeing you soon, your majesty.”
I doubted he’d think that if he knew I was currently thinking about how fucking pretty his main adversary’s cock was.
I used what I had available to me though, not swaying him from his line of thinking. “Just show us to our rooms, Master Niallan. It’s been a long day.”
* * *
“Oh my god,” Lord Xenon muttered. He turned in a slow circle inside the one room that all six of us were standing in. “Is this his idea of a joke? Some of us will have to share beds.”
Two golden bunk beds were situated against the left wall, their sides pressed up against each other. A twin-sized bed was on top, and a full-sized bed was on the bottom of each one. The blankets were piled high, and the pillows were fluffy.
I dropped my bags and pointed to the top left bed, the farthest away from the lone bathroom. “That one is mine.”
“The fuck it is,” Lord Otto stated in a hurry. He rushed right to the bed I’d pointed at and threw his luggage up onto the mattress. He grinned with glee. “I got here first, your majesty.”
There was only one single bed left.
The remaining five of us charged at it.
An elbow landed in my neck—pretty sure it was Lord Xenon’s flying limb—and I stopped and placed my hands on my knees, choking and coughing. I couldn’t even see the rest of the struggle clearly, as my eyes were watering too badly. It was all a blur of rapid limbs, grunts and shouts, men being tripped and falling over each other, and even some blood winging through the room and splattering onto the beige tiling.
I held my throat and straightened. I scowled at Lord Xenon where he was now perched on the last single bed, like a damn contented cat, grinning from ear-to-ear. Dots of blood peppered his left cheek, smearing as he rested his head down on his pillow. Pain resonated inside my neck, making it difficult to speak. I croaked, “Dickhead.”
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