Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

  Wren threw her head back and laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "She also says she's sorry," Albert said, tilting his ear toward the shadows.

  "For what?" Wren asked.

  He frowned and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "For bringing you into this."

  Wren shook her head. "It's not like she knew what was going to happen."

  "No, but she does know her sister,” he said, his face grim. “Knows the lengths she'll go to in order to keep her crown."

  "I’m realizing that,” Wren admitted. “Which is why you can come live in the bunker, assuming it's okay with Marlowe, that is. It's safe. There's plenty of room."

  "I can't leave here." Albert pulled back in his seat and spread his arms wide.

  "But…why?" Wren asked.

  “Well, for one, who will ring the bell there behind you?”

  Wren turned on the bench to look at it.

  “If you lean over far enough, you can touch the very top of it, but don’t lean out too far. I’m not even sure a vampire could survive if you fell. It’s a three hundred-foot drop to the bottom of the tower, not to mention a giant bell you could split your head on.” A wistful smile crossed his face. “Your mom and I really like your head as it is. Always have.”

  Nodding, Wren reached out behind her to touch the top of the bell. “I’ve grown rather attached to my head too.”

  “A woman who puns, Marlowe,” Albert said with a laugh. “Be still my heart.”

  I shook my head while my chest warmed. It had been a long time since I’d seen him this happy.

  "And another reason I can’t leave here is because this is where your mother is."

  Wren’s shoulders slumped some before she pulled her spine back up and faced him again. “Can’t she come with you?”

  Albert made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and then turned to me. “The scepter. Did you give it to her?”

  “I did,” I said, picking up my cup again. The blood had cooled to room temperature, which was how I preferred it.

  “There’s all sorts of bells and whistles with that thing, like a Swiss army knife meant for a queen.” He nodded at Wren. “Did you know it was used to give you your tattoo?”

  Wren’s hand fluttered to her wrist. “Really? How?”

  “It was something I discovered before I gave it to Marlowe to give to you.” He went silent for a long time as he gazed down at his own wrist, so disfigured and melted that there was no trace of his tattoo. “You know what I realized, Marlowe?”

  “What?”

  He chuckled, but it was so full of bitterness that it made me tense up, like there was something very, very wrong. “The scepter gives the tattoos, and it can also take them away.” He gestured to himself. “All of this, what I did to try to get rid of it, was for nothing.”

  Take them away… Take the tattoo away.

  A turbulent mix of emotions collided inside of me. Sorrow for Albert that he’d learned that about the scepter too late. Guilt over his pain and suffering. But also hope. Hope that I’d found a way out.

  I could guess which emotion made it to my face because Wren, her yellow eyes flashing, slammed her teacup down so hard that it shattered.

  Chapter Five

  Wren

  “I’m sorry, I…” The delicate ceramic lay broken in a thousand pieces at my feet. Thankfully, I’d already drunk the contents of the cup, so only a few drops of blood were spilled.

  Albert patted my cheek. “No worries, my darling. Fine china isn’t very compatible to our vampire strength.”

  Marlowe fetched a broom and set about cleaning up the mess. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. I knew exactly what had crossed his mind when my father spoke about the scepter.

  He wanted out. And I couldn’t blame him for that. We were total strangers. I’d thrown a wrench into the cogs of his life, one that I was sure he’d worked very hard to achieve. Even the mystical pull of a royal harem tattoo couldn’t change that fact. Unlike Ashe and Charles, Marlowe had sown deeper roots. He had responsibilities that he couldn’t just walk away from.

  Now that he knew there was a way out, even if we did mate, it might not be enough to gain his complete and total loyalty.

  “…you another,” Albert said from the other side of the room. I hadn’t even noticed him getting up.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said I’ll get you another one.” He took an empty cup from a small cabinet.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ve had plenty.”

  “Oh.” He turned to the empty space beside him. “She’s worried about her figure, isn’t she? Just like you.” Shaking his head, he laughed and reached out as though cupping my mother’s invisible cheek. “You’ve always been perfect to me.”

  Then there was my father – talking to my dead mother, who I hadn’t seen since that horrible night except in dreams and flashes of memory. Could it be that he really saw her? That she chose to manifest for his eyes only? And if so, why wouldn’t she appear to me? To lead me, guide me, tell me when I’d fucked up along this journey so I wouldn’t get everyone killed.

  But I couldn’t dwell on whether my mom’s spirit was still hanging around or not. I’d never know for certain unless I saw her myself.

  I needed to speak with my father, to find out more about our past, about where I’d come from. “Could you give us some time alone, Marlowe?”

  “I think we should let Albert get some rest and perhaps come back another time.”

  Was he in that much of a hurry to go back and erase the thing that shackled him to a life he didn’t want? I rubbed my tattoo, where Charles’s part of the symbol buzzed the strongest. Ashe’s less so since he was farther away, and Marlowe’s the faintest. If Ashe never returned, and Marlowe erased himself from the picture, this whole quest would be for nothing. Would Charles still want to be with me? He didn’t seem like the sort who wanted a house in the vampire suburbs with two point five kids and a grocery getter.

  “Nonsense,” Albert said, his Scottish accent more pronounced. “Stop handling me with kid gloves. I’m your elder by a couple centuries, young man. If my daughter wishes to speak with me in private, then so be it. Off you go.”

  I smiled. My father held a commanding voice and presence just then, one that must have reflected the man he once was at my mother’s side. Marlowe looked none too thrilled, narrowing his eyes behind his mask before he gave me a nod and headed down the stairs.

  I’d deal with him later when there weren’t more teacups to shatter.

  Albert came over and sat by me on the bench. He patted my hand. “What would you like to know?”

  I’d never expected to be in a situation where it would be possible to ask such questions, so the infinite possibilities threatened to short-circuit my brain. I thought for a moment while scanning my father’s meager living quarters and then grabbed at the first solid question that came to mind.

  “How did you meet my mother?”

  He smiled. “Ah, well now, that was so long ago…”

  My heart sank a little. Perhaps he’d lost some of his memories along with his intermittent sanity.

  “But I remember it like it was yesterday,” he said, staring off into the distance as though seeing the past play out in front of him.

  Relieved, I squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.

  “It must have been close to two hundred years ago now. America was a young country at that time. I’d never even thought about venturing to it. I had a fine estate close to Loch Ness, of all places. Glenkinarry, it was called. I’d married young, but my wife died in childbirth along with our first child, a son.”

  Tears pooled in his eyes. He blinked, releasing them down his burn-scarred cheeks. After all these years, he still felt that loss so strongly. Did that mean the pain over my mother’s death would never lessen for me? What if I lost one of my mates?

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, taking his hand in both of mine. “What was her name?”


  He turned to me and smiled before looking off in the distance again. “Evangeline. Ah, she was a beauty.” He chuckled, wagging his finger at the empty space in front of us. “Now, don’t be jealous, my queen. You’re the most beautiful creature in the world.”

  I squinted into the dark hollow of the bell tower and saw nothing but a leaf skittering across the wood floor. It was best to keep the conversation going rather than worrying whether his vision of my mother was real or imagined. “And after that, is that when you met Bronwen?”

  “Yes, it was a month, maybe two, after. The days were a blur for quite some time. I went out for a boar hunt with a few of my clansmen just before dawn. I was distracted with grief, half drunk on mead, and crashing through the wood like a lame elephant. Somehow, I became separated from everyone else. I’d cornered up a boar near a cave and didn’t even realize it until he charged. There was no time to run or block or even strike him. He gored me. Tore right through the femoral artery. He would have gutted me had she not intervened.”

  “She? You mean Mama?”

  He nodded. “Mm-hmm. I didn’t know who or what she was. I was losing blood so fast, my vision was failing, but as I lay there on the ground, I saw a blur of activity. The boar lifted into the air and dashed into the rocks. A horrendous squeal, and then silence. And leaning over me…” Albert lifted his hand and looked up as though he were back there lying on Scottish soil, bleeding to death. “Was the face of an angel.”

  “So, she saved you from death.”

  He lowered his hand. “From mortal death, yes. She carried me inside the cave and asked me if I wanted to die in peace or to live forever as a creature of the night. Just a month prior, I would have begged for death. But then, as my lifeblood poured from me, I wanted to live. For a moment, when I saw her fangs glinting in the early morning light, when they sank into the flesh on my neck, I doubted my decision. But only for a moment. The next thing I knew, I was drinking blood from her wrist, and only then did I realize that my heart no longer pounded in my chest. I was reborn as a vampire.”

  “Was that when she made you her mate?”

  “Not immediately. I hid out with her deep within the cave, until sundown.”

  “Did the other men look for you?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to be found. There was nothing for me there but a big house full of sad memories. We traveled to the coast, and that’s when she told me she was a queen. She had just been crowned and was taking one last holiday in the British Isles and Europe just to clear her head. She had been watching me for a while, she said, and had grown very fond of me. I was already madly in love with her by then. Then she asked me if I would like to come to America with her and be her fifth mate.”

  All this information would take some time to sink in, and I couldn’t help but wish my mother had told me even half of what I’d learned during this short time. The realization of how Albert became her mate was unexpected to say the least.

  “She turned you, and she chose you? Queens can choose a mate?”

  He nodded. “Yes, if a mate dies, or if you have chosen to dismiss a mate.”

  “Dismiss with the scepter, you mean? If you remove a mate’s tattoo?”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded, but my throat was tight with emotion. It might be best to offer the option to Marlowe now, before we mated, before the attraction grew beyond physical. Then perhaps I could choose another mate, but that was about as likely as finding a good-smelling redneck in Alabama. It wasn’t like I had a wide social circle of willing vampire guys for the picking.

  Albert slumped a little, his eyelids heavy. Digging up this much of his past and meeting the daughter he thought was dead must have worn him out.

  As though he’d read my mind, he said, “You should return and rest, spend time with your third mate. He’s a good man.”

  “Wait, you…know?”

  Albert grinned as he blinked hard. “Of course. Bronwen and I chose him for you when he was a child.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t even thought of that possibility, but it made sense. “Can you tell me who my other mates are?”

  He shook his head, his eyes falling closed and staying that way. “That’s not for me to say. It’s up to you to find them.”

  I was tempted to press him for their names, but he seemed to be losing his focus. Not knowing what else to do, I just stood and gave him a hug. His scent seemed familiar, like pine needles, autumn leaves, and fresh air.

  He hugged me tightly. “Come back soon, Wren. There is too much to tell in one night.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He held on to my hand until we finally released one another. It was hard to do since I’d only just found him.

  I found Marlowe downstairs, just outside the bell tower door. He was leaning against the wall, looking at his tattoo. Its glow reflected off the gold on his face mask. He quickly pulled down his sleeve.

  “We should go,” he said. “The longer we stay, the more attention we may draw.”

  “Okay.”

  He took off toward the SUV, glancing at me as he passed.

  We drove back to the bunker in silence, parked in the hangar, and descended the stairs towards our quarters. The energy between us felt like an invisible tether, but we both stayed glued to opposite walls of the elevator. He got off on the fourth level, but before the doors closed, I held them open.

  “Did you know Bronwen and Albert chose you for me?”

  He stiffened, then looked at me over his shoulder, one shocked, cinnamon-colored eye piercing me through his mask. Slowly, he focused ahead again, squared his shoulders, and walked away.

  I let the doors close, smiling. I’m not sure what I hoped to gain by telling him that, but it felt somewhat satisfying, knowing I wasn’t the only one whose life had been hijacked by secrets from the past.

  Chapter Six

  Marlowe

  "You’re a gorgeous, naughty thing. I'm going to treat you so nice even though you were hiding from me like the little devil you are."

  Charles's voice filtered down the hallway from the kitchen in the bunker, and I slowed my steps, expecting to walk in on something I didn't really need to see.

  "Yeah, you like that? You like it rough like that? Do ya?" He made a hissing noise, and something slammed like a cupboard door, or Wren knocking against the counter…with her ass in the air. A perfect, round ass I could dive right into.

  Like I had in my dreams last night. Several times. My dick stirred at the memory, pulsing in time with my heated tattoo. Dream Wren had been insatiable, and I'd woken with the hardest boner I'd ever had in my life.

  "Daaammn," Charles groaned. "You are fucking hot."

  I pivoted, no longer thirsty for blood. Maybe ever. Not if the kitchen was where he and Wren decided to fuck.

  "Marlowe, get in here," he called.

  Shit. Stupid vampire hearing. Did he want me to watch or what?

  "I'll come back," I said over my shoulder, already walking away.

  "It wasn't a question."

  His voice was closer now, out in the hallway behind me. So…not fucking Wren?

  Slowly, I turned and noticed two shots of whiskey in his hands. Dressed in navy sweatpants and a white T-shirt that read Ask Me About Weaver Street Pie, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

  "This is the answer," he said.

  "What was the question?"

  "Who the hell knows after a shot of this stuff? It's damn fine whiskey someone hid in a bag of cat food under the sink." He nodded toward the kitchen. "Come drink with me."

  "I don't drink." Especially whiskey found in a bag of…cat food? What had made him look inside the bag in the first place? I’d have to have a talk with Margaret. She had probably relapsed and was hiding the booze in places she thought I’d never look.

  "Yeah, you do, just not whiskey, I take it. Tell you what. I'll drink your shot of whiskey for you, and you drink whatever the hell you want. I can hear your stomach growling anyway, so pronto, ami
go."

  With a sigh, I followed him into the kitchen, a little disappointed not to see Wren, naked and with her legs spread wide. Touching herself while she waited for me…

  Fuck my life.

  Charles sat at the little table in the middle of the kitchen with his two shots and the rest of the bottle while I readied a mug of blood.

  "So," he said, kicking out a chair for me to sit across from him. "I wondered if you could do something for me."

  I chuckled, but it didn't hold a trace of humor. "I should've known. It's always what the rest of the world can do for Mr. Charles Ford, isn't it?"

  "Ah.” He slammed one shot back and shivered. “So you're aware of my past."

  "I'm aware of everyone's past who I associate with."

  "Well, good for you," he said, with the same tone he might use with a small child.

  I ground my teeth together. It honestly surprised me that this guy was in Wren's harem, the lowest of the low. He was nothing but a career criminal, had been for most of his adult un-life. He belonged in jail, not joining the resistance to the queen.

  "What is it you think I can do for you?" I asked out of curiosity.

  "I'm sure you've got access to a database or something or other that can whip out a list of names of those in the Southern Clan who are terrible people, through and through."

  "Terrible. That's a pretty loose description."

  "True enough. Let’s come at this from a different angle.” He poured another shot even though he had a full second one waiting. “What about a list of names who were loyal to Queen Bronwen, everyone who worked for her, supported her publicly, showed up to her funeral? People like that."

  "There's no database like that, but I can probably get you a list of names for those who were loyal. But why? What is this for?"

  "It's for Wren's Royal Knights to help her take and keep the throne. I'll vet them, train them. I just need a list to help get started."

  I knew he'd started training for the Royal Knights when he was pretty young, taught by his dad, who was rumored to be one of the best. There were other rumors, too, about just how close Geoffrey Ford and Queen Bronwen had become. Whether any of those rumors were true or not, recruiting a whole new set of Royal Knights was actually a good idea, which was surprising, coming from Charles.