Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

  But not here. We couldn't do this here. It was too personal, for both her and me, though she didn't seem to realize it yet. She would, though, and the past's echoes would be louder than I could make her moan.

  The rest of my body wasn’t listening to me. Despite all my reasons not to fuck her right here, I was pushing her back against the wall by the closed and locked double doors, my hand on her ass to grind her against my cock she was relentlessly stroking.

  She tasted too good, felt so good pressed up against me that I needed more. My hips thrust into her hand while I tore at her clothes, yanking down the front of her dress and bra until her tits bounced free and wrenching her skirt up past her hips. Impatient. Almost violent with need.

  But she kissed me harder, pumped my cock faster, just as impatient. Her tits were round and perfect, her nipples tight and already begging to be sucked. I wanted every part of her at once so I went everywhere, taking one nipple between my teeth while I spread her legs wider with my hand sliding up her thigh. I pinched her other nipple with my free hand, loving how her naked flesh felt on mine.

  “Please, Charles.” Her head thudded against the wall as she moaned loudly, her voice carrying in the empty room.

  My fingers were drenched before they found their target, her sweet wetness scenting the entire space with her arousal.

  Fuck.

  She was tight, so, so wet—

  "Charles." There was a note in her voice I didn't recognize because I was too far gone. Lost inside of her.

  I added another finger between her legs, but then quickly pulled it back out because I needed to fuck her. Right here.

  "Charles." She'd stopped stroking me off, stopped begging for more, and had stiffened.

  Something was wrong, but the thought of burying myself inside of her had already melted through my brain and collected at the base of my spine. Powerful and pulsing, it shot straight through my throbbing cock and hung there, ready to go off like a bomb. I was seconds away from coming, and I wasn't even inside her yet.

  But she slid out from my pin against the wall and stood still next to me, a perfect statue while she stared straight ahead. The moon must’ve come out from behind the clouds because it shone through the holes in the ceiling, throwing a silver glow over the entire room.

  I knew exactly what she was staring at without looking at it myself, why there were tears leaking down her face.

  "This is..." She turned to me, the heartbreak cut deep enough across her face that it made me forget about fucking.

  Okay, not completely. I had two blue bags of disappointment for balls, but I’d live.

  "This is your mother's throne room,” I finished for her. “And that's her throne."

  I hated that the cult meeting was here and not the thousands of other places it could've been. This house held too many memories for me, almost all of them good, but so far in the past that they might as well have happened to someone else.

  "I remember," she whispered.

  But I wasn't so sure she remembered it like I did. This house had been my home away from home. This room had been a playground for a naughty kid vamp like me. Even now with the dead leaves falling through the holes in the roof, landing with the sound of brittle bones in the silence, I could still hear Queen Bronwen telling me stories and singing.

  Arranging her dress back into place, Wren walked toward the throne, a simple thing yet still royal enough for someone like Queen Bronwen. At the bottom of the three steps leading up to it, Wren seemed to buckle at the knees, the loss of who had once sat right in front of her too much.

  Above the throne, a huge portrait still hung on the wall. Queen Bronwen on her throne, surrounded by her five mates, but the painting had been clawed as though a werecat had used it for a scratching post. To add salt to that wound, paint thinner had been doused on their faces, so all that was left were detailed bodies with blurry heads of a once royal family.

  Wren stared at it, her eyes roving over the image, lips parted in shock. Then her gaze landed where I knew it would, to her mother’s arms where she held a tiny infant streaked with paint thinner as though the child had begun to melt out of existence.

  I started to go to her, but then she sobbed, her head bowed, while the moon spotlighted her grief. Her skin glowed silver underneath it while her shoulders heaved, a broken beauty.

  I felt grief too—hers and mine—as raw today as ever. Dad's usual place was nearest the bottom step while the other Royal Knights stood in two rigid lines on either side of the throne. When Queen Bronwen wasn't holding court and it was just her and me in here, I would stand in his spot and pretend I was him.

  “You’re going to be a very special someone someday, Charles,” she said once, the spectral memory echoing through the dark chamber. She knew I was meant to be with Wren. She must have. Pity no one ever let me in on it.

  "How could her own sister do this to her?" Wren asked, her voice choked with tears and rage. "Not only is my mother dead because of that bitch, but she was here tonight, in this house with her creepy human slave sex cult like she was rubbing it in."

  "Because she's a crown-chasing bitch." I crossed toward her and stood in Dad's place, standing guard over the true queen like he had done. But I would do more. I brushed my thumb over my tattoo, still pulsing hot, but heavy now, like it could feel Wren's sadness too. "I will put you on this throne, Wren. I swear it."

  She looked up at the throne for a long moment, empty except for the dead, broken leaves. "I want to kill my aunt at least ten times over, Charles. I really do. But then what? I take what's mine, but what if I hate it? What if I try to be like my mom, but I turn out worse than Ravana? There was a time when…when even Ashe was scared of me."

  “The fact that you’re asking these questions already makes you fifty times better than Ravana.” I bent to touch her, mostly as an excuse to feel the silvery skin on her arms, pulled her gently to her feet, and moved her to my dad's old spot. “Now you’re standing where the Royal Knights once stood.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Your dad?”

  I nodded. "He’d bring me here sometimes because he had no one to watch me. He'd often have to stay late to strategize with the rest of the Royal Knights when your mom was about to travel, so I'd come in here. It was usually empty because it was so late, but occasionally Queen Bronwen would wander in. In my kid head, I didn't understand her importance, so I just talked to her like I would anyone. And she listened and talked to me, too, even after you were born."

  She touched her chest right over her heart, her eyes soft. "What did you talk about?"

  "Everything. She told me stories and sang me songs. Treated me like an equal even though I was just some annoying kid. I'd sit right where you're standing while she did."

  "You weren't just some annoying kid," she said, tilting her head.

  I shrugged, but even I knew I was pretty damn annoying. "Still, though. It got to the point where I couldn’t wait to see her. I'd hang around outside those double doors we came through while she held court, barely able to control myself so I could come talk to her, so she gave me a music box to play with." I nodded down at her feet. "I bet the stone is still loose if you’d like to see it."

  Frowning, she knelt and slid the stone out from the side of the step, and soon, the familiar notes drifted out from the silver box in her hands. It looked a lot smaller now, and the song more haunted.

  She laughed as she stared up at me with wide eyes. “I know this song. You’re a five-pointed star, that’s what you are....” Her voice trembled and then drifted into silence.

  I tried for a smile, but I didn’t think it quite made it to my face. “I was sitting right there when Ravana's brutes stormed in here, and Bronwen, holding you in her arms, ran for her life. I think you were maybe a year or two old. Anyway, while my dad called for me in a panic, I stashed the music box, thinking we'd come back. But we never did.”

  Wren touched her fingertips to the music box that still played, her lips trembling. "She
was like a mother to you."

  I shrugged, never having thought about it like that, but I supposed she was right. My real mom put a stake through her own heart.

  “What was I like as a baby?” Wren asked. “Do you remember?”

  “Very curious, if I recall. Chubby cheeks. Drooled a lot.”

  Wren laughed softly, which made me smile.

  “So, putting me on the throne is just as personal for you as it is me,” she said. "So tell me how. Tell me why we're here taking pictures."

  "We find someone through facial recognition software who can get us close to the queen. Someone who works inside her estate, a maid or a secretary, or someone who has access to it. Like I said, the people here are malleable, easily manipulated, which is why I wanted to come here first. We find someone, and then we offer them a choice—help us or die."

  She pressed her lips together, seeming to process. "I have no problem killing those who deserve it or get in my way, but these people? Just for making some questionable decisions?" She shook her head.

  "We're not actually going to kill them,” I said, smoothing the neckline of her torn dress as another excuse to touch her. I was beginning to think I was addicted to how she felt, skin against skin. “We're just going to tell them they’ll die if they don't help us. I bet potions master Ashe can whip up something non-poisonous with some of the same effects of silver poisoning that you familiarized yourself with last night. We stick our target with it, wait for them to feel sick, and then show up on their doorstep with the cure for their mystery illness."

  "Which we'll only give to them if they..."

  "Plant a little listening bug in Ravana’s mansion. We could learn her routine, her secrets, where she's going and why."

  "So we can be there first." She added a violent edge to her voice, one that made me glad my name wasn’t Ravana.

  That bitch was so screwed.

  The double doors slammed open despite being locked, and in walked Ashe and Yoga, both looking like they'd enjoy chewing through my face.

  "Fuck, there you are," Yoga growled.

  Ashe stalked across the room, his face twisted in a scowl. "Thirty minutes and then we'll meet by the front door, he says."

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I said. “We were enjoying the last few minutes of you not being here.”

  Ashe gave me the middle finger while his gaze zeroed in on Wren's torn dress and the dried tears streaking her face, but she held up a hand before his teapot temper blew.

  "I'm fine. Really," she said.

  Yoga’s forehead creased as he studied her, and then the empty throne behind her, seeming to put it all together. "We got pictures, some with faces and dicks at the same time. I don't think I've ever seen so many dicks in one place before. It wasn’t pretty." He rubbed his eyes as if he wanted to gouge them out. "The question is what do we do with these pictures?"

  "You're not going to like it, Ashe," Wren warned.

  He threw up his hands. "Well, I can't wait to hear it, then."

  I glanced at Wren as I started toward the doors. "Second rule of being queen—get used to doing things that make you feel like shit.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wren

  As much as I wanted to linger in the throne room and try to piece together what was once my mother’s life, we didn’t have time. If anyone caught us in here not mingling and not having our own private bloody orgy, they’d know something was up. And I didn’t want anyone defiling this place. It felt almost like a shrine to what might have been.

  Yes, I had been a second away from fucking Charles right here, but that was different. This had been my mother’s home. Her throne, meant to be my throne. I deserved to be happy here. I had been at one time, but could I trust the memory? There were feet – small feet – tap, tap, tapping across the parquet floor. Two small hands enfolded in larger ones. Shiny black shoes, a mustache atop a bright smile hovering above. And dancing…

  “Zac, take pictures of that painting. We need to analyze it.” I pointed without looking at it. It was burned into my retinas anyway.

  He did as I said, and I scooted out of there as quick as I could, slipping the music box down into my big mama purse. The guys were right behind me. Charles locked the doors and pulled the dusty tapestry back over them. A group of cackling partygoers rounded the corner in the hallway.

  It was two men and one woman. The woman was topless, with bleeding fang marks on both breasts, dinner for the two male vamps. One was blonde, one brunette, like a young version of Siegfried and Roy, complete with shaggy hair and too-tight skinny jeans. The woman’s glassy eyes and red cheeks told me she was drunk as a skunk. Made for tasty blood and numbed the senses. I had no idea whether she had been marked for survival or whether these two hungry vamps would drain her dry.

  Leave it to my guys to pick up on that.

  “Hey, could we borrow her for a bit?” Charles said in a decidedly Cajun accent, pretending to adjust his polo shirt while aiming the smiley face button at their faces. “We’ve worked up quite the appetite, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sure,” one of the guys said, wiping blood from his lips as his gaze roved over Zac. “We can trade. He been marked?”

  “He’s mine,” I drawled like a true southern vampire Bible school teacher and looped my arm through Zac’s. “I have a very delicate constitution, and only his blood suits me.”

  “Hmm. Looks like he has plenty to go around. Sorry, then. No trade, no deal.”

  “You won’t like it,” Ashe said, rubbing his stomach. “He’s vegan. Too gassy.”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at that one. Zac was the farthest thing from vegan you could get, just short of vampires.

  “You can have a drink,” Zac said, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs, “if you stop when my lady tells you to.”

  He swallowed hard as his eyes met mine. I sensed his unease. We could easily kill these numb nuts if we had to, but it still took a lot of trust for him to allow hungry vampires to drink from him. Knowing he trusted me that much was a bit humbling. Zac could be lethal, but he was way outnumbered in a house full of vampires.

  “Come here, chère, let’s have a little fun,” Charles said, taking the shirtless woman’s hand.

  Jealousy elongated my fangs and brought on thoughts of ripping her throat out. So much so, I had to turn away while Charles led the woman to a corner and spoke quietly to her. Ashe followed, and both of them slipped into an open room with her. Were they planning on feeding from her or fucking her? Or both?

  Meanwhile, I had to stay here and ensure Zac didn’t get drained. Both men licked their lips and came over while Zac adjusted his coat lapels and got their pics with his smiley face pin. They picked up his wrists and didn’t waste time. Both of them bit in. Their fangs pierced his skin like a knife puncturing a drum. It was music to my ears and to my stomach. I had yet to fully recover from the blood loss from that damn silver bullet.

  Zac’s eyes flared, but he barely flinched. I didn’t know whether he’d been bitten before, but he seemed to react like any DBD who’d been bitten on a daily basis. This entire situation was foreign to me. I wasn’t sure whether letting them drink from Zac was a good idea or where we were supposed to go from here. But while they slurped and gulped, I had to distract myself so I wouldn’t be tempted to join in. It was up to me to keep Zac from losing too much blood.

  I looked around with a grimace. “Pity we can’t have this party at Queen Ravana’s place. I mean, look at this dump.”

  The brown-haired guy – the “Roy” of the duo – let go of Zac and licked the blood from his lips. “Isn’t that the truth? I hear she’s got several swank houses.”

  “You’ve never been to one of them?”

  “No.”

  “And your friend?”

  The blond one – we’ll call him “Siegfried” – lifted his head, letting blood dribble down his chin. I stared at the thick red trail of liquid. It smelled so hot and fresh. I could hear Zac’s pulse, coul
d feel the faint vibrations in the air. I had to eat again to build my strength back up. I sure as hell didn’t want to eat from anyone here. But the hunger was slowly eating away at my self-control.

  “No, I’ve not had the pleasure of being in the queen’s presence besides tonight,” Siegfried said. “She’s quite the recluse, they say, except for brief appearances at public gatherings.”

  “Where does she live, anyway?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t really care, either. I like what she’s selling. We’re predators. We should be allowed to act like it, to indulge in…the carnal pleasures of life.” His eyes roved over me, while his hand reached for my breast.

  Ashe blurred into the hallway and grabbed his wrist before it made contact. “Never touch a vampire lady without her permission. I’m pretty sure Queen Ravana would agree.”

  “My apologies.” The guy dropped his hand and took a couple steps back.

  Charles appeared beside Roy. “Your little dinner date done gave out,” he said in his newfound Cajun drawl. “I took her out back for you, put her in the pit.”

  He glanced at me. Had he and Ashe drained the poor girl dry? What did he mean by pit?

  “What a shame,” Roy said, dropping Zac’s wrist. “She tasted like old cigarettes though. Not like your vegan friend here, but he tastes like fried chicken for some reason. I bet he’s been sneaking meat on the side. Might hurt your delicate constitution, you know. But I’d be glad to take him off your hands. How much you want for him?”

  Zac bristled. His left eye twitched, no doubt tempted to whip out some vampire-exterminating weapon on these two idiots.

  I nipped my wrist and rubbed a few drops of blood on his wrists to heal his bite marks.

  “He’s not for sale,” I said, but it sounded slurred from trying to cover my emerging fangs with my upper lip. The aroma of fresh blood permeated the air, crawled up my nostrils, and tugged on that part of my nature that my mother had warned me to keep on a leash.

  “Come on,” Siegfried said, taking Roy’s arm. “They’re the prudish type. Plenty of blood and fuckery to be had elsewhere. Good night.”