Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

  And then movement. Her fingers fluttered. There and then gone again, but it was enough to loosen the knot in my chest. All three of us sagged with relief.

  The muscles in her neck tightened, and she blinked her eyes open to stare at Ashe above her. Bringing her hands to his forearm, she moaned, a raw, hungry sound that stirred my dick right the fuck up. Something would have to be done about that. Her body, still naked from almost taking a shower, writhed on my bed. God. Damn. She kept drinking from him, making these hot little noises that caused me to turn around so I could adjust myself. But also so I wouldn't have to look at them eyeball fucking each other. No, not even eyeball fucking, but looking at each other with...trust? Love?

  "She's healing," Yoga said.

  When I turned back, he took his hands from her wound. They were covered in blood, but fresh blood wasn't seeping out of her anymore. He got up and crossed to the bathroom to wash up.

  Ashe, still kneeling on the bed, paled from the blood loss, but Wren would likely need a lot more to flush the silver from her body.

  I flashed to his side before he did something stupid and passed out. "Let me take over, genius. She's going to suck you like a juice box."

  "Fuck off," he muttered.

  Wren's gaze cut to me, all sin and hunger now while she fed, and she rolled her naked hips upward, just slightly, like she was imagining riding my cock.

  Yeah, something needed to get done right now.

  "Fine. I'll go get you some blood to keep you hydrated. Try not to pass out." I clapped Ashe hard on the back and started for the stairs.

  I'd be quick. Too quick. No question about that.

  I hurried downstairs and headed straight for the cheap whiskey in the kitchen. It took five searing hits before the image of her unmoving on my bed blurred and replaced itself in my head with her fuck-me look and the way she'd rolled her curvy hips. With one hand braced against the first-floor bathroom's closed door, I freed my throbbing dick with the other. My tattoo beat in time with it. Then, just a couple of strokes while I licked my lips, still tasting her kiss, was all it took. I shot my come into my hand and groaned, the heated symbol on my wrist rubbing real nice along the side of my cock.

  That would have to do for now. When Wren wasn't too busy getting shot and almost dying, I'd love to bury myself inside of her—my dick, my tongue, anything Her Majesty wanted.

  I cleaned up, took the whiskey, grabbed the blood from the refrigerator, and was back upstairs again in a minute and a half flat.

  I could be quick. But I could also be torturously slow.

  "Miss me?" I announced.

  "No." That from Yoga and Ashe, but I earned a knowing smile from Wren, who was still attached to Ashe's arm, now with a sheet draped over her.

  She probably knew what I'd been up to, the vixen.

  I popped the top off the blood container for Ashe and handed it to him.

  “You didn’t microwave it?” he asked.

  “Not for you, I didn’t.” I tipped up my chin at Yoga before tossing him the whiskey bottle. "Think fast."

  He snatched it out of the air and then slammed down near a quarter of the bottle in one gulp.

  "You're welcome." I turned to Wren and touched her toes hanging out from the sheet for an excuse to touch her.

  She pulled away from Ashe and licked her lips, looking much better now that she wasn’t preparing for death number two. "Okay. I think I'm good now."

  "Christ, Wren, you think you could tell us the next time you get shot?" Yoga asked, jumping right into the inquisition.

  "Take it easy, will you?" I snatched back my whiskey from him because he didn’t deserve to have it, not with that tone.

  He frowned so hard that another dimple formed in his chin. "No. I won't. That was—"

  "Reckless." Ashe drank deeply from the blood I'd given him while he gave her a dark look.

  She huffed and sat up in my bed, which looked so much more inviting with her in it, and pulled up the sheet to cover her more. It was then that I noticed the rose vine tattoo that wound around her biceps and across her shoulders. I’d only seen part of it before, and the thorns made it look just as deadly and beautiful as she was.

  "I hate being fussed over.” She glared at each of us. “You all fuss."

  "Too bad, Your Highness," I said, the words much sharper than I intended. "Queens get fussed over by everyone. Time to get used to it."

  She closed her eyes briefly. "Easy for you to say. I grew up on my own. I took care of myself."

  "Not anymore." Ashe touched her cheek, and she gave him that trusting, loving look again.

  To have her look at me like that… Well, that would be something.

  But then her eyes hardened. "Wrong, Ashe. Looking out for myself doesn't just end because I have you. My mom had a harem and Royal Knights to protect her, but…it didn't work out so well for her."

  "Noted.” Yoga sighed and ran his hand down his face. “But if you're not even going to tell us you got shot, what are you going to tell us?"

  Ashe nodded. "He has a point."

  "You're right,” she said. “Trust is a two-way street. I thought I could handle it myself because I have before, but…I messed up. I’ll try not to make it a habit."

  I tipped back the bottle and drank, the liquor numbing the part of me that wanted to rip Ashe’s head off just so I could stand at Wren’s side. "First rule of being queen—when you fall, fall fast, so you can jump up again."

  Ashe stared at me. "Damn, Charles. Did you just come up with that?"

  I hadn't. That had been one of my dad’s sayings—or the dumbed-down version with smaller words—but he’d meant everyone, not just queens. When I'd fallen, I kept falling. Still wasn’t sure I'd landed yet either.

  When I didn't answer, Wren said, "You guys haven't already gone and come back, have you?"

  Ashe shook his head. "We got as far as the fence when my symbol heated so hot it just about ran us off the driveway."

  Same as mine, then. We were both in tune with Wren, revolving like protective planets around our shared sun. I hated sharing, and I hated sharing with Ashe even more, but it gave me a purpose, one that actually mattered more than picking pockets and being a mercenary for hire.

  I had a purpose to the true queen. Even though I’d starting training to be one of the Royal Knights when I was a kid, this was still scary as fuck. Being part of her harem was much more personal, required me to lower my walls a little, not just with her but the entire harem.

  "We still need our stuff if we're going to this cult meeting tomorrow," Wren said.

  "I'll go get it,” I announced, surprising everyone, including myself. “I'll take Yoga with me."

  He shot me a look. "Stop calling me that. Really."

  "Just call him Charlie if he does," Ashe said with a laugh.

  Wren smiled at me. "Why do you hate Charlie so much? It suits you."

  "Never you mind.” I stroked her foot as I turned, catching the flare of heat across her face as I did. “Try not to get shot while we're gone. Or ever again.”

  "Fair enough," she said.

  "Ashe, you still have the keys?" Yoga asked.

  I jingled them in the air on my way to the coatrack in the corner of my bedroom. "Nope."

  “Figures, damn it,” Ashe muttered.

  “Ashe, take care of Wren. Little lady, you rest up.” I flipped my fedora onto my head and threw a wink over my shoulder. “Because we have a cult meeting to crash tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Five

  Wren

  “I thought they’d never leave,” Ashe said when the rumble of Charles’s truck faded into the night. “You really had me scared, Wren.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know we haven’t known each other that long in the grand scheme of things, but I already can’t imagine life without you. I mean, if I lost you, I…”

  “Hey.” I put a finger to his lips, then took his face in my hands and kissed him. “You’re not going to lose me. But
you may run away screaming if I get any filthier.”

  “I’m on it.”

  He blurred into the bathroom and came back with a warm, wet washcloth. Then he sat beside me and gently washed my face. I had to resist the urge to yank the rag from his hands so I could do it myself. It’s not like I was helpless, but he looked so sincere, like he actually wanted to take care of me. I couldn’t take that away from him.

  Seeing how much ick came off on the washcloth reminded me I still had some serious hygiene issues to attend to. I took his hand and halted the sponge bath.

  “You know what? This washcloth is kind of like bringing a knife to a gun fight. I’m going to need something a bit more substantial.”

  Ashe smiled. “I’m on it.” He whipped the sheet off me and carried me to the bathroom, then stood me gently in the tub and turned on the shower, adjusting the hot and cold until it was just toasty enough to feel heavenly.

  After he retrieved a clean washcloth and towel, he started for the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “You.”

  He turned, one eyebrow cocked. “What?”

  “I need you.”

  His slow-burning smile was enough to melt any cold, dead heart. In a couple milliseconds, he propped what was left of the busted door against the doorframe, then stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the tub behind me. He slid the curtain closed while I shut my eyes and let the hot water soak into my hair.

  “Here, let me.” Ashe squirted some shampoo into his palm and started lathering it through my hair.

  I’d heard women talk about how nice it was to have their hair washed by someone else and chalked it up to girlish silliness, but wow. They were right. I kept my eyes closed as Ashe’s fingers massaged my scalp and worked the shampoo through every strand of hair. Then he guided my head back into the water stream and stroked the suds away.

  “Better?” he asked as I rubbed the water from my eyes.

  “You should be a hair stylist. Women would pay you a hundred bucks for a wash job like that.”

  “I’m only interested in pleasing one woman.” Ashe pressed his body against mine, squeezing my ass possessively. “My woman.”

  “Well, if you’re that good with shampooing, how are you with the rest of it?” I grabbed a bar of soap and slapped it into his palm then turned my back to him and grinned over my shoulder.

  Ashe chuckled and lathered up. He started at the back of my neck, his slick hands sliding along my skin. The soap smelled like Charles, some kind of spicy man scent, so it was a little like having him in the shower with us. That vision pumped blood into my lady parts and swelled them up until they ached.

  Ashe slid his arms under mine and around my waist, pulling my body against his as he lathered up my abdomen. Pausing at the tender skin on my still-healing wounds, he bent to look at them and glanced up at me with eyes full of guilt.

  “It’s not your fault,” I whispered. “None of this is.”

  He sighed, and I knew he still blamed himself for Charles kidnapping me. I’d have to let him come to terms with it on his own. If it meant letting him wash me from head to toe and letting him wait on me hand and foot for tonight, then so be it.

  To be honest, it was kind of nice, but I wasn’t about to let any of them know that. Perhaps I’d inherited my mother’s independence. I couldn’t remember her ever letting anyone do anything for her. I tried hard to remember anything from before we were on the run, but I’d been too young. What were her mates like? Which one of them was my father? Did they dote on her like Ashe did for me?

  Blood-tinged water swirled down the drain while Ashe washed my wounds as carefully as one might wash a newborn. Then he moved up to my breasts. I lay my head back on his shoulder and let Ashe work his washing magic on me. His thumbs circled my nipples. I felt his hard dick, hot and ready against my ass as he massaged the soap all over my breasts and then worked his way down to my lady bits. There, he gently soaped up my panty line and teased my swollen labia.

  I reached up and looped my arms around his neck to support my weakening knees. He must have taken that as his cue and circled my clit with his middle finger. Simultaneously he flicked it and rocked his hips into mine until the sensation exploded like an electric shock from my core and through my limbs.

  My jaw trembled as I stuttered, “A-Ashe, fuck me, p-please.”

  He bent me over and gripped my hips. I held to the side of the shower and groaned as he buried his dick inside me. He moved with slow, firm thrusts that filled the aching hunger his wash job had brought on. A hunger also born from finding a second mate I had yet to seal a bond with. I couldn’t stop the vision of Charles there in front of me, my lips sliding up and down his dick while Ashe fucked me from behind.

  I came again. Hard. My fangs emerged, I screamed, and then Ashe came, too, and he bellowed. Damn. If Zac and Charles were anywhere nearby, they’d have heard it. But I really didn’t care just then.

  Especially after Ashe slid out of me, turned me around, and kissed me like he meant forever. Once we finished toweling off, Ashe with a towel around his waist, and me wearing Charles’s robe, we emerged into the hexagonal bedroom. I hadn’t fully appreciated the place before, considering the silver poisoning and all.

  “I’m surprised he can afford such a house with all the debt he’s in,” Ashe said.

  “Maybe he’s not in as much debt as we thought.” I wandered to the window and looked outside. A pale line of yellow light spread across the horizon. Hopefully those window shades would come down like Charles had claimed.

  “Uh…the bed’s been changed.” Ashe looked back in the bathroom. “Our clothes are gone too.”

  Footsteps on the stairs were followed by Charles’s voice. “Yep, the bed’s all cleaned up. Clothes in the wash.”

  I grinned at Ashe, who wore an actual blush. He gripped the towel tighter around his waist, knowing as well as I did that Charles and Zac had heard everything.

  Charles appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying a tray with a silver teapot and two cups, plus a covered dish. He set it on a table at the foot of the bed. “Y’all really should pay more attention when you’re fucking though. I mean, any scalawag could have come in on you, and you would have had no idea.”

  “A scalawag like you?” Ashe sneered.

  “Whatever. Seriously, though, your number one job is to protect our queen. How about we wipe the slate clean? I can train you to be a Royal Knight, and you can stop looking at me like you want to put a stake in my heart.”

  “Train me?” Ashe balled his fist like he might throat punch Charles for such a notion. “What the hell makes you think I need training?”

  “It’s not a half-bad idea,” Zac said, emerging from the spiral staircase with a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other. “Charles has had some solid training, as have I, and Wren had on-the-job training so to speak. Ashe hasn’t, though it’s no fault of his own.”

  Ashe looked to me as if waiting for me to shoot down that idea.

  I hated to disappoint him, but…“I think you should let him train you, Ashe.”

  Before Ashe could retort, Charles held up both hands. “No need to discuss it now. I brought you both some dinner, and I’m gonna be a hospitable host despite my better judgement and let you two sleep up here together. We’ll need our rest before tomorrow night. Now eat up, sleep, and then it’s showtime.”

  “I watched him fix it, by the way,” Zac said. “He didn’t poison anything.”

  “Thanks, Zac. And thanks, Charles.” I resisted the urge to go kiss my soon-to-be second mate. I didn’t want to shake salt into Ashe’s wounded pride.

  “Anything for my queen,” Charles said with a bow.

  He and Zac retreated downstairs. Ashe and I sat at the table. I uncovered the dish to find a small, rare steak. Ashe poured steaming blood from the silver pitcher into our cups.

  “Wow, I’m famished.” I cut off a piece of steak and popped it into my mouth, savoring the juicy, bloody co
olness of the beef. “This is good. Maybe Charles isn’t so bad after all.”

  “Not so sure about that.” Ashe took a sip from his cup then tentatively tried a bite of steak and licked his lips. He shook his head and shrugged. “If the taste of this dinner is any indication, maybe he has a few redeeming qualities.”

  While we ate, yellow sunlight grew brighter across the horizon. Steel panels slid down to cover the windows…just like Charles had promised.

  ****

  Birdie now sported a new wine-red coat of Plasti Dip, and damn was it nice to be back behind the wheel. Ashe rode shotgun, while Zac and Charles rode in the back seat. I wore my mousy brown Martha Stewart style wig and a dowdy gray dress to match Zac’s suit. We needed to look as plain as possible to blend in. From what Zac could gather, it was a mixed crowd of dowdy and dolled-up vampires interested in whatever this cult could do for them.

  Charles studied the flyer. “This address seems awfully familiar.”

  “I really don’t like this color. Makes me look old,” Ashe said.

  “You are old. Older than me, anyway.” The streetlights glinted off his silver-dyed hair. “Makes you look distinguished, I think.”

  “What about this silly mustache and goatee? It’s itchy as hell.”

  “You look like Colonel Sanders,” Charles said. “But you’re missing the white suit. Looking better than Combover back here, though.”

  “I could really go for some chicken right about now. You vampires and your limited diets.” Zac adjusted his tie. The combover wig looked rather ridiculous on him, as did the baggy gray preacher suit and shiny black shoes, but only because I knew how fuckable he actually looked.

  “There’s a drive-thru up ahead. Let’s get him some chicken so his stomach won’t growl and draw attention,” Charles said.

  He wore a black polo and khakis, along with a dark brown curly wig which made him look like Jonah Hill in Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea for Zac to be there? They’ll be able to tell he’s human,” I said.

  “Sure, but there will be other humans there,” Zac said. “There are several who are heavily invested in this cult. Mostly politicians, lawyers, and those types.”