Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

“You’ve never even thought about at least trying to forgive yourself?” she asked.

  “Not really.” I sagged against the doorframe, Zac and Charles’s quiet voices filtering to my ears from the other room but not registering.

  “You’re not cursed.” She reached out and twined her fingers through mine, her mouth opening and closing like she wasn’t sure she liked the way her next few words fit. “Your mom punished you horrifically as a kid, and you kept punishing yourself for every little fire that started.”

  “But I do start fires.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Something kindled deep inside me, something my tattoo seemed to want to fan as it pulsed wildly. Not in the usual way that made my entire body throb for Wren…but like it was nodding in agreement.

  Which made absolutely no fucking sense.

  Still, nodding tattoo aside, I’d never allowed myself to frame everything in my life the way Wren just had. Self-inflicted punishment, not a curse. Had I taken over my own mother’s punishment of myself by blaming every fire - literal and figurative - on me?

  I would need to digest that for a while. Maybe forever. Which I guess was a start.

  She winced, and I realized I was crushing her hand in mine.

  “Shit. Sorry.” I loosened my grip and stepped closer to her. "So, forgiveness, huh?"

  "It's probably not going to happen overnight.” She shrugged. “I'm still working on it myself, but we're works in progress."

  “That’s all anyone can be unless they claim they’re perfect." I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Which I’m not.”

  She grinned, as bright and gorgeous as ever even under the single bulb. “Join the club.”

  It struck me then how alike we were, how burdened by our pasts and presents we’d become. Maybe together, we didn’t have to be. We’d now have someone nearby who would willingly shoulder some of the weight whenever we needed. Other than Albert, no one had ever even offered.

  I brushed my fingertips over her jaw. “Since when did you become a therapist?"

  "Since I’ve started hanging around a bunch of men.” She huffed a laugh, her yellow eyes shining with humor. “All of you are mental cases."

  Chuckling, I pulled her to her feet again and kissed her. Not soft, either. Hard, probing, and edged with fangs so we could mix our blood as thoroughly as we’d mixed our lives. And our hearts. She threw her head back and moaned loudly as I glided my lips down the column of her neck.

  “You’re not a work in progress, Wren,” I said between kisses, gliding my hand over the swell of her chest. “You’re a queen in progress.”

  She arched into my palm. "I like the sound of that coming from you, Mr. Doubtful."

  “Yeah, I’m a bit slower than others with progress, I guess.” I nipped at her neck, grinding her against me while my other hand worked at the button on her pants and pulled them down past her knees. Wren grinned as she hopped up to sit on the wine barrel, leaving her fucking sexy in her lacy panties and black army boots.

  “You seem to be speeding up nicely though.” She gasped into my kiss at the exact moment I found what I wanted between her legs.

  I ridded her of her panties while she rode my fingers, each and every sound she made only making me kiss her harder, thrust faster. The feel of her responding to me, opening herself to me in every way, rushed out all sense from my mind and replaced it with deep-seated needs to dominate her and surrender myself to her at the same time.

  I couldn’t decide so I did both.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Repaying a favor.”

  I lowered myself to my knees in front of her and curled my fingers inside her to make her come closer. She did and buried her fingers in my hair. Teasing at first, I licked up her inner thighs slowly and removed my fingers. She whimpered and pulled on my hair, but I took my sweet, sweet time. Then, with a glance up at her heated eyes and parted lips, I took hold of her hips and tasted her deeply. We both moaned, and she leaned back on the wine barrel, bracing herself on it with her arms. Her body seemed to take control as she gave herself over to me completely. She spread her legs farther and ground herself against my mouth, her face the definition of ecstasy.

  And I wanted to give it to her, and more. I circled my tongue over her clit, and tremors began to shoot through her, more and more powerful until she snapped. I drank her in, prolonging her orgasm for several beautiful moments while I watched her face.

  She grinned down at me, not just with her mouth but with her whole body. She looked powerful, yet loving. Regal, yet self-aware.

  It was then while still on my knees in front of her that I realized she was entirely capable of being queen.

  “Hey, anyone order a celestial?” Angelo’s voice called out from the main storeroom.

  Quickly, I helped Wren down from the barrel and blocked her from view in the doorway while she dressed since this smaller storeroom didn’t have a door.

  “Ready?” she asked me, grim determination hardening her face.

  I was beginning to think so.

  The ride to the lake house was short, silent, and tense with Angelo riding shotgun next to me. He seemed to sense the gravity of the situation and kept quiet for the most part while somehow the rain-scented air breezing through the open windows ruffled the feathers of his tattoos. Maybe his tattoos nodded in agreement too.

  I parked to the side of a heavy iron gate, the lake house hidden within behind fortress-like walls. The five of us got out, and I drew my gun to shoot at the lock.

  But there was no need.

  Angelo’s wings unfurled from his back as he marched toward the gate, and then with one swift kick, the entire thing clattered to the ground several feet away. He winked at Wren and swept his hands toward the lake house grounds for us to enter. “Aren’t you glad you brought me?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wren

  Energy tingled from my toes to my fingertips. It was what made New Orleans so fascinating for me. The land itself simmered with residual history. Spirits, both seen and unseen, outnumbered the living and the undead. Their misty forms peeked out at us from the surrounding trees, while some stood near the fallen gate like casual tourists, eyeing us with mild curiosity.

  Whether they would help, hinder, or ignore our mission, I had no idea. But I had a feeling that they somehow looked to Angelo as an authority figure and wouldn’t do anything without his say-so.

  His eyes swirled with luminosity as he squinted toward the house, still mostly hidden behind the tree-lined drive. Lamplight cast a dim golden glow from one upstairs window. I let my night vision take over, but saw only the heat signatures of a raccoon, some sleeping squirrels, and one owl tearing into an unlucky mouse.

  “What do you see?” I asked Angelo.

  “Magic. Lots of it. We need more help.”

  “We don’t have more help,” Zac grumbled.

  “More better help, I mean,” Angelo said.

  “We’re not exactly novices when it comes to fighting” Charles said. “Not even the Zac-man over there.”

  Zac rolled his eyes. “What, so I’m not Yoga anymore?”

  “Nah, you graduated to a better nickname.”

  “Just hang tight.” Angelo partially folded his wings, clasped his hands in prayer, and then shuddered as though he’d had a sudden chill. A slight shockwave rippled through the air.

  Then a cold breeze blew in from all directions, and with it came orbs of light and thick mists, along with a few more solid figures. Ghosts. At least a dozen of them.

  Angelo stared at them intently, pointing to one, then the other, and then pointing toward the house. The solid forms nodded, and all except two dispersed toward the house in different directions.

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “Scouting. Some can slip through the walls or through the floor undetected.”

  “Oh. I didn’t hear you telling them anything.”

  He turned to me, smili
ng, but his mouth didn’t move as he said, “I don’t have to speak to be heard.”

  “Holy shit,” Zac said and wiggled his finger in his ear as though he had water in it. “What was that?”

  Angelo laughed.

  “Telepathy,” Marlowe said. “He can also read minds, so don’t think too loud.”

  Charles crossed his arms. “Right… I’ll just repeat ‘Baby Shark’ in my head. That’ll keep him out.”

  “Yep, I hate that song,” Angelo said.

  A few minutes later, the ghosts came back and floated around the celestial as Angelo silently conversed with them. He nodded and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Two of them still lingered nearby. One was a sad-faced woman with a noose around her neck, which was bent at an unnatural angle. I smiled at her, and her eyes flared as though she wasn’t used to anyone being unafraid of her. She finally gave me a tiny wave with her bone-white fingers. The other was a simple floating gray mist. It floated right up to my leg and seemed to sniff me like a dog.

  Angelo cracked his knuckles and turned to us, frowning. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  “How much worse?” I asked. “Did Ravana beat us there?” If she had, the chance that Ashe was still alive had dwindled to near zero.

  “Nah, she was on her way, but I arranged a little distraction through some of my connections.”

  “That’s good, then.”

  “Not really. The entire house is wired with cameras and alarms. And guarded by three witches, two warlocks, a half dozen vampires, and a lion shifter.”

  “Where are Ashe and the quadruplets?”

  “Held in some sort of stasis.”

  “How would he have gotten a picture to me with his sister’s ashes, then?”

  Zac rubbed his chin dimple thoughtfully. “My guess is Elsie Mae met them there thinking it would be a safe spot. She probably realized they were trapped, then stuck the picture in there as a hint in case they were captured and smuggled it out somehow. I’m still not sure how the crime scene guy got hold of it.”

  “We’ll figure that part out later. So how do we get in? What’s the strategy?” I asked, rocking on the balls of my feet. Ashe’s part of my tattoo flared with frantic pulsing as though it had finally picked up on his presence. Knowing he was so close, yet trapped, taunted my instincts to just barrel in there and start ripping off heads, but with magic involved, we had to be more methodical about it.

  “They’ll expect us to sneak in and take out the cameras,” Angelo said, “then the pawns, while the powerful ones wait to ambush us.”

  “So, what do you suggest?” Marlowe asked, readjusting his face mask. If we made it out alive, I’d make it my mission to earn his trust enough so he’d let me see his entire face and spend a few hours in bed showing him I could be his queen in all the ways that mattered.

  “We go in full force, no holds barred, kick ass and take names later. Wave at the cameras as you blur by. Don’t give them time to alert Ravana’s hitmen.”

  “Sounds fun. Let’s get it over with,” Zac said and drew both his guns, all urgency, all the time. He started down the drive.

  “Is he always like that?” Angelo asked.

  “Pretty much.” I caught up with Zac and took his arm. “How about we let the celestial lead the way.”

  “Ladies first, then.”

  Angelo’s eyes flashed a warning to Zac, who just chuckled. He reminded me of a chihuahua, fearless in the presence of things that could kill him with one swipe. But then again, he had a damn hard bite thanks to all his weaponry.

  Charles scanned the drive and the area beyond, his mind working so loud I could practically hear it. “And how do we get past the stasis or whatever you said?”

  “That’s why I told these two to stay.” Angelo nodded toward the ghosts. “This is Scotty—he was a wolf shifter when he was alive.”

  The gray misty one dipped downward as though taking a bow.

  “And this is Caroline,” Angelo continued. “She was hanged for witchcraft in 1770.”

  The hanged lady waved her bony fingers again and smiled.

  Neither spirit looked that impressive, but I knew not to underestimate ghosts. They all possessed varying degrees of power and talents. Like Chip. I missed that little guy.

  “Okay.” I nodded toward the direction of the house. “I’m ready if you are.”

  I took Marlowe’s hand and squeezed it. He looked at me and smiled. Both our tattoos pulsed in sync with bright blue light. I glanced at Charles’s arm. His pulsed right along with ours. He grinned and winked at me, taking my other hand. A sudden rush of euphoria passed through me like the time I’d drunk from a high-as-a-kite homeless guy when I was too young to know better. I realized then that all of us were more powerful the nearer we were to one another. How much better would it be when and if I managed to find my fourth and fifth mates?

  That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Ashe, and I’d kill anyone who stood in my way to get him out of that house.

  ****

  We blurred through the trees and stopped behind a garden shed about fifty yards from the house. A man sat on the porch, leaning back in a wooden chair with his booted feet crossed over the railing. He held a joint and puffed on it, with his other arm hanging limply to his side. I smelled not only the weed, but cookies. From being near the quadruplets, I knew witches and warlocks smelled like cookies. So he was either a warlock or had just made dessert. Moths smacked into the yellow light bulb above the front door. He zapped them haphazardly with tiny electric blasts from his pinky. Definitely a warlock, then.

  Angelo motioned us to stay back and nodded for the hanged lady to go. He spoke telepathically for all of us—or me, at least—to hear.

  Caroline, do your thing.

  The hanged lady nodded and dematerialized into a cool breeze that fluttered our clothes as she floated past us. Two seconds later, she rematerialized on the porch just behind the weed-smoking warlock. He froze mid puff and slowly turned his head.

  Harmless Caroline suddenly morphed into a ten-foot-tall banshee, complete with a gaping mouth full of sharp teeth, red eyes, long, clawed fingers, and black hair that whipped around like serpents.

  The warlock shrieked and fell backwards. The smell of his piss soon accompanied the marijuana smoke and cookie scent. Caroline held him down, choking him. He desperately tried to shock her. But his magic blasts went right through her. It was the stuff of nightmares, like the old hag people reported in sleep paralysis accounts.

  “Damn, I sure hope I never piss her off,” Charles said, his face noticeably paler.

  The noise must have raised the alarm inside since one light after another spilled out of the windows.

  “And that’s our cue.” Angelo summoned a magical shield and a machete bathed in green flames. “Hellfire,” he said with a not-so-angelic grin. “It’s one of the few things that kills witches. Oh, and Wren, don’t hold back.”

  “I don’t plan on it.” Though Ashe had told me once that I didn’t have to kill everyone, in this case, I hoped he would understand.

  We blurred up to the porch. Angelo was just as fast as us vampires. Zac was a few seconds behind.

  Caroline let go of the warlock. She drifted out of the way as Angelo brought down his machete. The warlock’s head rolled across the porch and bounced down the steps.

  I tried kicking the door in, but a counterforce knocked me back into Marlowe. It was some sort of magic shielding.

  Caroline, could you let us in? Angelo asked telepathically.

  Now back to her regular, only slightly creepy self, she nodded then floated through the door. The magic crackled and sizzled, throwing out sparks. Soon, the door swung open into a big foyer where a witch with spiky blonde hair waited.

  She threw a sparkly magical blast at us. Angelo blocked it with his shield. Caroline switched into her old hag form and rose up behind him. The distracted witch looked up in horror. Angelo swept in with his machete, relieving the witch of her head.

/>   A vampire leapt from the landing above, stake in hand, and knocked me to the ground. He drove the stake into my shoulder. I cried out as Charles wrenched him off me and onto his feet then punched him. The guy’s jawbone crunched. Zac shot him in the eye. I flipped myself upright and ripped his throat out. Marlowe finished him off with a stake to the heart. I jumped back as he melted into a pile of goo.

  Two more vampires charged from rooms on both sides. There was only one way I could do this. I had to let my instincts take control, like all the times I hunted down my mother’s killers. My fangs emerged. My nostrils flared.

  Every sense spread out as Ashe’s part of my symbol sent burning pulses up my arm. He was so close, I could feel his fear—not for himself, but for me. It fueled the monster inside me.

  “Come on, motherfucker. Y’all want me? Well, now you got me.” Ripping the stake from my shoulder, I cracked my neck and cued up a mental version of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song.”

  As the vampires closed in, another warlock stormed in from a door up ahead, his lips curled in a sneer and fire wrapped around his fists.

  I crashed into the vampire to our left, sinking my fangs into his neck. He threw me off him and onto a dining table. I sprang to my feet and kicked him in the chest. He flew backwards through a window.

  Diving after him, I grabbed a piece of the broken window frame on the way. As I landed, I drove it into his chest and rolled off him before he turned to vampire goo.

  A deafening roar rattled the broken glass in the window frame.

  “Shit.” I’d never fought a lion shifter before. First time for everything, I guess.

  I leapt back through the window. Zac and Charles dispatched the other vampire. Angelo was battling it out with the warlock. A continuous stream of fire flew from the warlock’s hands. Angelo was holding it off with his shield, but the force kept him from getting within striking distance. The fire singed his wings.

  Oh hell no. I wasn’t about to do all this for a burned feather.

  I grabbed an oval portrait off the wall, pausing just long enough to see who was in the photograph. It was Ravana, with her “adopted” children, Vivian and Elsie Mae, sitting on their knees in front of her. Except for her eyes, my aunt did resemble my mother. They had the same platinum hair, petite build, and facial features, the same brilliant, beautiful smile. But the cold, calculating look in Ravana’s eyes snaked its way up my spine and stoked my need for vengeance. Above the portrait hung one of the security cameras. I glared at it, bared my fangs, and hissed.