Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

  So imagine my surprise when a tattoo sprang up from underneath my skin, a symbol I'd seen many times before, and sealed my fate without even checking to see if I was okay with it. The tattoo pulsed and heated, more so the closer Wren came to me. This tiny vampire woman who thought she could be queen.

  And I was expected to be her mate. To love her.

  Enter the insanity from Queen Ravana and the public execution just minutes ago, and I’d had my fill of both fire and the threat of love for one day. Really, I wanted nothing more than to go climb in a hole. Except we were already in one.

  But I had a job to do, a professional appearance to keep up. Normally I resented my mask, but now it hid the feeling of crumbling to pieces from the inside out.

  "Sorry," I said to Zac, interrupting his urgent whispers while we stood off to one side of the lobby. The sights, the sounds of the fire still resonated from Travis's phone even though it had long been turned off, and my new tattoo throbbed—all of which made it damned hard to concentrate. "Can you repeat what you just said?"

  Zac bowed his head like he was struggling, too, except he hadn’t been cursed with a tattoo. Lucky man.

  "Of course," he said. "There's a lady working for us, one of Queen Ravana's maids. She just reached out to me because she's in charge of cleaning up...Ashe's sister. She feels terrible about what happened and wants to help. She wants Ashe to go pick up his sister's ashes."

  I looked at him, trying to tell if he was serious or not. He'd picked a hell of a time to start playing practical jokes.

  "Absolutely not," I said. "I'm trying to help you because I have orders from the top of the SFBI to do so, and any one of you going out there despite the targets on your backs is suicide."

  He held up his hands. "I understand that. But this woman—her name is Elsie Mae—can't mail the ashes to him because then the queen could figure out who our allies are or where we are. It’s too risky. After what's happened tonight, she doesn't trust anyone else to come get the ashes but one of us, and Ashe seems like the obvious choice. If it were your sister..."

  "I don't have a sister." It was a petty thing to say that I instantly regretted. Jessica's death wasn't about me, but it had sure rattled me. As it had everyone else. But not everyone had pyrophobia either. I adjusted the mask on my face, suddenly feeling suffocated by it.

  "If it were anyone you knew who you cared about, then,” Zac continued, “you would go get the ashes so that they can be laid to rest. It's the least we can do for Jessica and Ashe."

  I crossed my arms, not liking one bit what he was asking me to do. If Briggins, Director of the SFBI, heard about this, I'd be out of a job as head of the Witness Protection Program within seconds. Following protocols to the T was how I helped people, and bending them, even just a little, hardly ever ended well.

  Still, there was one person even I'd broken every rule for. From all the details that had come out about Jessica and Ashe, I suspected Ashe's "one person" was his sister. He would've done anything for her and vice versa.

  Against my better judgement, I asked, "How many guards would he need?"

  "Three. Four at most. Ashe is good in tight spots, but his head isn't where it usually is."

  The quadruplets could go with him. They were the best at what they did, and with Wren and Charles here in the bunker, they'd be safe without four extra guards.

  "Does Ashe know about this yet?" I asked.

  "Not yet.” He glanced at the elevator where Ashe had gone, the corners of his eyes tight with worry. “I was giving him time to...process."

  "If Ashe is up for it, he can have my quadruplets. They can leave tomorrow night." Damn it, I sure hoped I didn’t regret this.

  "Thank you. I know he'll appreciate this." He nodded and started toward the elevator.

  He likely would, but not if it got him killed.

  I went in search of the quadruplets and found them on the other side of the circular metal tunnel inside the modern, stainless steel kitchen. While I explained the situation should Ashe agree to going, they continued sipping what smelled like herbal tea from their coffee mugs.

  "I don't ever ask you guys to go against protocol, but this one time is different,” I said. “You stay close to him at all times, and you bring him back, all of which is off the records. Understood?"

  "Understood." Talia rubbed her nose, her eyes red from crying.

  Her brothers held their emotions in, but only slightly. If anyone understood the brother-sister bond and how deep it went, it was these four. They likely could see themselves in Ashe's shoes and feel exactly what he was feeling.

  I crossed back through the tunnel in the direction of the silo's exit, but stopped. Shit. I couldn't leave now, could I? Not with this stupid tattoo marking me as a target for death. How the hell was I supposed to do my job when I was trapped in a harem I didn't want to be in?

  Gritting my teeth, I crossed to my laptop case by the heavy-duty double doors that were reinforced with steel and concrete. I could throw myself into my work for a few hours in the library and try to forget about everything else.

  When I put my foot on the first step, something orange and furry streaked across the hallway while batting around a sparkly toy. There was a cat inside the bunker? Margaret must have brought him inside out of the rain we’d had a few days back.

  On the fourth underground level, I stepped off the stairs and inhaled the smells of leather, ink, and paper. Libraries had been my one safe oasis as a kid, and this one definitely looked the part. Two spiral staircases wound up on either side of the circular room that led to a railed-off balcony ringing the second floor. Filled bookcases crowded much of the wall space, but between every three cases on both floors, rectangular windows stretched floor to ceiling.

  They weren't real windows, of course, but a soft blue light emanated from behind them, giving the illusion of daylight. A vampire's fantasy, really, as close to daytime as we could get.

  I settled in on the nearest chair behind a long table and got to work on my laptop. Time didn't really exist normally down inside a bunker, so I jumped when I heard the sound of steps on the stairs. My tattoo pulsed in time to the sound, and I groaned inwardly.

  There stood Wren, her short blonde hair messy and her face puffy from sleep. Or tears. Her yellow eyes were bloodshot and sad. She wore a long magenta T-shirt that skimmed her thighs and purple fuzzy slippers on her feet. She looked so young, so inexperienced and unprepared for the kind of world she'd been born into.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Hi…" I wasn’t much for pleasantries or conversation…or anything.

  "I couldn’t sleep, so I went exploring."

  So she'd come here. Maybe if I kept working, she would… Christ. I was a lot of things, but it took special effort not to be an asshole.

  I lowered the screen of my laptop, just a little. "I see."

  She seemed to take that as an invitation and sat on the couch opposite me with her legs folded underneath her, taking extra care not to flash me too much skin. Even if she had, I wasn’t interested. Even with the heat from my tattoo trying to fire up my cock. I crossed my ankle over my knee.

  "I know you'll take me to my dad when you can,” she said, “but I wondered if you could tell me about him. All I have are vague memories, and I...I just need something else to think about."

  "Well." I cleared my throat. "He's a painter. Was a painter. I'm not sure he does much of that now. He sings on occasion."

  "Music runs in the family, I guess." A smile blossomed over her face, quick and frail. "I can't wait to hear him."

  I frowned down at my laptop, not sure what else to say. There was more, of course, lots more, but after what had happened tonight, I wasn't so sure she was in the frame of mind to hear it. I wasn't sure I was, either, even though I’d lived through some of what had happened to her dad.

  "Can I ask you something?" She studied me intently.

  I shifted in my seat, having a faint idea where this might be headed. "Sure."

>   "Why do you wear a mask?”

  Sometimes I hated being right.

  "Fire." A one-word answer, but it summed my whole life up.

  She nodded. "I'm sorry."

  I wanted to tell her she really shouldn’t be, for several reasons, but that would just invite more questions. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

  Another smile then, fleeting and somewhat broken. "No, I don't mind."

  "Do you want to be queen?"

  She paused a long moment, her eyes faraway and her expression hard. "At first, no. I just wanted revenge, but then I learned more and more about my mother, how she carried herself, how she treated others. So unlike Ravana. She didn't rule by making everyone afraid of her. She ruled by loving everyone."

  "And is that how you would rule?” I asked. “By loving everyone?"

  The thoughtful haze vanished when she snapped her eyes to me again. "Well, there's more to it than that, obviously, but with love guiding my principles, yeah."

  A bitter laugh almost tripped out of my mouth before I caught it. Love. How about logic? Grit? A strong vision for the future? She would never take Ravana's place. And with me in her harem, I was hurtling myself right into another fire, except this one would actually kill me, just like it had Jessica. It would likely kill all of us.

  “You think there’s something wrong with my answer?” Her defensiveness curled her mouth into a sneer, hardened her yellow eyes into citrine gemstones, almost giving her the appearance of cruelty. But not enough to take the throne from Ravana.

  I closed my laptop and stood. "I'll take you to your dad tomorrow."

  And then? Do what he’d tried to do with his own tattoo and burn mine off? Maybe, but not with fire. Something else, then. Possibly magical tattoo removal.

  “I didn’t say anything wrong,” she hissed as I passed by her without another glance. “How I feel about the throne is never up for debate.”

  “Good night, Wren.”

  I left her there in the library alone, her angry glare drilling me in the back.

  Chapter Three

  Wren

  Marlowe’s footsteps echoed as he left the library in a hurry. He’d made it obvious that he thought I was too incompetent and naïve to be a queen. Maybe he was right. With everything that had happened in just the last few hours, I didn’t know what to feel.

  I pulled my legs to my chest on the couch and rested my head on my knees. It would be morning soon, but I was too tired to sleep. Too tired to cry. As drawn as I was to Marlowe, I couldn’t fathom him ever being a willing mate. It could be like Devin all over again. Had he resented being a part of my mother’s harem from the beginning?

  There were still so many unanswered questions. No wonder Marlowe thought I’d be a shitty queen. If all I left was a trail of dead vampires in my wake, how could I be anything but?

  My tattoo pulsed in time with approaching footsteps. I raised my head, ready to tell Marlowe to fuck off and leave me alone for the rest of the day. But it wasn’t him.

  It was Ashe. He shuffled in, hands in his pockets. His hair was tousled, his eyes ringed with red. His pain was palpable only because I knew it so well.

  “Hey.” He lingered by the door.

  “Hey.” My first inclination was to run to him, but I sat up and hugged a pillow to my chest. The last thing I wanted to do was drive him away. Grief was a complicated creature. It balanced on a fine line of needing comfort and isolation. The best thing those on the outside can do is simply be there, even when it makes them feel useless.

  He wandered to the sofa and sat just out of reach. “I’m going to pick up her ashes.”

  “How?”

  “Elsie Mae has them. She contacted Zac. She’s going to deliver them to a secure location where I can get them.”

  “Alone?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to—”

  “No. The witches are going with me tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  He smiled weakly. “It’s five in the morning.”

  “Oh, right. I suppose I lost track of time.” I took a chance and held his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should get some sleep, then.”

  He stared down at my hand, then pulled my knuckles to his lips. Eyes closed, he kissed my fingers softly. “Wren?”

  “Yes?” Was this him saying goodbye? Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t allow them to fall. I needed to be strong for him. For everyone.

  “Can you stay with me for a while?”

  Relief pushed a tear onto my cheek, but I swiped it away. “Of course.”

  He held my hand as we stood from the sofa and made our way up the stairs to his room. I didn’t even notice which floor we were on. I was too busy memorizing the planes of his face.

  We stepped inside his room, a modest and basic space like a cheap hotel, and closed the door behind us. As soon as Ashe turned the lock, he pushed me against the door and kissed me hungrily. I let him lead, just responded in kind. He lifted my shirt up and over my head then tossed it aside. His hand slipped down under my panties. I held on to him, my eyes closed, as he captured a nipple in his mouth and suckled to the point of painful pleasure. He plunged his fingers inside me over and over until I was drenching wet.

  Scooping me up in his arms, Ashe carried me to the bed and laid me on it. He paused to remove my panties, then stripped off his clothes. He hovered over me for a moment before lowering his head to gently suck at the skin on my neck. As his dick drove into me, his teeth bit down. I cried out but turned my head to better expose the vein so he could drink.

  He fucked me and drank in a seductive rhythm, groaning softly every time he swallowed. Finally, he lifted his head, his eyes red with primal hunger. My blood dripped from his fangs onto my chest. With a low growl, he came. I clung to him, accepting each deep, hard thrust that bordered on painful because it was the only way I knew to help him release his grief.

  We lay there in the quiet solitude and clung to each other. Distant, unfamiliar sounds of life in an underground bunker that had been designed to protect my mother echoed all around us. When he fell asleep, I let my tears escape, for him, for my mother, and for all we had lost. And for the feeling that this lovemaking had been a long goodbye.

  I finally fell asleep sometime around midday.

  And when I woke up, he was gone.

  In his place lay an orange tabby cat, curled up into a furry donut shape. The cat raised its head and blinked at me with squinted yellow eyes. I reached out to pet him. At first, he jerked his head back like he might swat me for daring to interrupt his nap. I held my hand still until finally, he sniffed my fingers and then rubbed his face against my knuckles. He purred as I softly stroked him.

  “What’s your name, hmm?” He wore a blue leather collar with a little steel mesh charm on it that looked like a tea infuser.

  Way back in my memories sat an old English man who owned an even older motel somewhere on a beach in Florida. He took us in and let my mother work as a laundress at night in exchange for a room. I didn’t realize it then, but I think he paid her for more than just clean sheets and towels. Mama would sometimes send me into the bathroom and told me to lock the door. She would hand me a Walkman with dry-rotted headphones and a couple scratched CDs of Janet Jackson and The Bee Gees.

  “Keep playing music until I come get you, okay?” she’d say and kiss my forehead.

  A few times, I had gotten tired of listening to the same songs over and over and took off the headphones, only to hear someone grunting and the bed squeaking.

  The old man’s name was Archie, and he loved his tea.

  I smiled and scratched the cat under the chin until he smiled and purred like a little engine. “I think I’ll call you Archie.”

  ****

  “He’ll be okay, Wren. I trust them. They know what they’re doing,” Charles reassured me for the hundredth time as he washed my back.

  We had Janis Joplin’s greatest hits playing on an old record player we found in
my mother’s quarters—my quarters. It would take some time to not think of everything here as belonging to her. Like the beautiful clawfoot black tub we now sat in for a long, relaxing bath. It sat in a little alcove behind a sheer red curtain. Over it, a backlit picture of a forest scene gave the sense of having a window. The way the light shone through the trees looked like sunbeams. It was the closest I’d get to enjoying the sun. So I settled back and enjoyed the fake view. Steam carried the calming scent of lavender bath salts. Charles sat behind me, his legs around mine. I rested my head back on his chest and closed my eyes, happy that he’d finally persuaded me to bathe and gather my wits before I faced the night.

  “But what if he…” I couldn’t finish. It hurt too much. Ashe’s part of my symbol hadn’t pulsed this weakly since the very beginning.

  “All we know for sure is that he needs to do this. All you can do is let him have his time.” Charles lathered more soap between his hands then massaged my breasts, belly, and inner thighs. It was oddly less sexual and more comforting than I expected.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you tonight?”

  “Marlowe says it’s best if we don’t have too many people. It will draw less attention.” He’d actually said that secondhand, through the secretary, Margaret. I’d tried to find him earlier but was told he was “busy” and would find me when it was time to go visit my father.

  “He’s being a real dick, chère. I’m sorry. Are you sure your tattoo isn’t mistaken?”

  I laughed, lifting my foot out of the water only to notice I needed a pedicure badly. “I wish it was, but then it was right about you, and you kidnapped me.”

  “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

  “Nope.” I looped my arm around his neck and turned my head to kiss him. He and Ashe were so different, but I loved them more than I ever thought possible.

  “I’d do it all over again if it meant I’d get to be your man.”

  I got up, turned around, and straddled him, pleased to discover he was already hard and ready for me. We made love to the bluesy sound of Janis Joplin singing “To Love Somebody.”