Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

  And I'd come running when I'd heard him scream. Wasn't that already changing the past? I couldn't help him, no matter what, since I wasn't meant to. Fuck, I couldn’t even follow my own advice. Not when it came to him.

  That was the pulse of it, wasn’t it? I could see him again. And wasn't that exactly what I wanted? To rewind time before Albert's death for his companionship, for his fatherly advice when I hadn't even realized I'd needed it?

  This was reckless. I should’ve turned around right then. I was pitting my grief against time in a game that could turn deadly with one wrong move. Yet I couldn't stop. I crashed through the forest at top speed, announcing my presence to Albert and whoever else was near.

  Over the trickle of a narrow creek slicing down a ravine, I heard labored breathing. I slowed, creeping along the wet forest floor as quietly as I could. Somewhere nearby, a wild boar squealed angrily.

  "Get…back!" The order sounded much weaker than the previous shout.

  As soon as I rounded a large boulder, I spotted him at the mouth of a cave formed into a hill on the other side of the ravine. He lay on his back with a stick in his hand and jabbed the air with it. Gushes of blood from his thigh stained the lip of the cave red. Human blood.

  A low, involuntary growl rumbled in my chest. My fangs came out, and I pressed my back against the boulder, out of sight, until I was in control again.

  I'd heard this story several times of the wild boar attack. I knew how it would end. How it should end. So I peered out to make sure it did. Albert was dying, and dying quickly.

  What I didn't expect was Bronwen, hurling herself toward the scene from the opposite direction I'd come from. Dirt streaked her face and coated her blonde hair, which tangled around the shoulders of her long dark red dress. She crashed through tree limbs like she was being hunted.

  Exactly like she was being hunted. She kept throwing terrified glances over her shoulder before she skidded to a stop on top of the cave. When she saw the wild boar below, which was about to charge Albert yet again, her face, so much like Wren's, twisted into an angry scowl.

  "Call them off!" she shouted.

  Them? Them who? I didn't see or hear anything.

  Then I did, and a long shiver skated down my spine. Just their eyes at first, blacker than the night and surrounded by bone-white skin and scraggly hair. Phantoms. They floated through the forest, their bodies passing through the trees and their feet never touching the ground. Their sights were set on Bronwen.

  In front of her, the boar started to lunge for Albert in one last killing blow. Bronwen leaped down in front of it, grabbed it underneath its thick belly, and flung it against the side of the cave. It slumped down with a terrible squeal, leaving one long red streak behind it. Without wasting any time, she hurled herself at Albert's prone body and feasted on his neck.

  Above her, the phantoms flickered, seeming to die with the boar.

  "Marry…me?" Albert said with his last dying breaths.

  Bronwen pulled away, his blood streaking her chin, and laughed. "This is a first. I've never received a marriage proposal from my food before."

  Food? Holy shit, she wasn’t in love with him. She just wanted dinner. Albert’s story had been more than just a bit off, likely because he was half unconscious. Had Bronwen lied to him to help shape his version of events?

  I'd been so focused on them and the phantoms that I hadn't noticed the boar haul itself up to its cloven hooves and glare at Bronwen's back as she drank once more from Albert. The phantoms stopped flickering and floated down to where she was. They stretched out their arms, opened their mouths wider to reveal two rows of needle-like fangs. All at once, they inhaled.

  Bronwen flopped over Albert, still drinking deeply, but her eyes fluttered closed, her body seeming to no longer support her.

  I had no idea what the phantoms were doing, but it couldn’t be good. And Bronwen wasn’t doing anything about them or the boar. What was happening here? If I let her outright kill Albert or let the boar kill her, Wren would cease to exist.

  The boar started to charge Bronwen.

  I didn't even think. I whipped out my gun and shot it dead between the eyes before it touched her. It toppled over on its side, unmoving, before suddenly shifting into a naked dead man. At the same time, the phantoms flickered into the mist and vanished. The loud crack of the gunshot echoed through the forest and scared up a flurry of quail.

  Then silence lowered, heavy with the weight of what I'd just done. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. A sick feeling twisted through my stomach, a feeling that I’d just shattered the entire future. But if I hadn't done it, then the boar would've gotten Bronwen before she changed Albert.

  She was standing now with Albert lying behind her, and staring at me, her bright yellow eyes a stark contrast to the dark crimson staining her chin and dripping down her dress. She looked downright terrifying. And so much like Wren, it made me ache all the more to find her.

  "Who are you?" she demanded.

  "I'm one of the good guys." Was I though? After this, I couldn’t be sure until I found Wren and took us back to the present. I held up my free hand to show Bronwen I meant her no harm while I re-holstered my gun. "Promise."

  “You’re a vampire.” Her voice held a sense of wonderment.

  “Yes.”

  “But your accent… You’re not Scottish?”

  “No.” I didn’t elaborate, because we didn’t have time to get into a discussion about anything, not with Albert lying there bleeding to death.

  “What sort of gun is that? I’ve never seen one like it before.” She followed every single move I made, her distrust thickening the air between us. I didn’t blame her one bit.

  "Uh, it’s nothing special where I’m from.” I cleared my throat, hoping to redirect her focus. “It sounds like you had trouble with the boar there?"

  She nodded sharply. "Yes, he was a powerful shapeshifter vampire. He wanted to be my fifth mate and wouldn't take no for an answer. Sent those phantoms after me to drain my strength, my free will. Everything that made me me, and I almost gave in."

  My gaze flicked to Albert, who hadn't moved in a long time. He was likely dead, or near dead. The first of two deaths. Now I’d seen both of them.

  My chest caved in around my heart, and I leaned against the boulder for support. I had to fix this. I had to make this right so at the very least the end result was the same as it needed to be. "What about him for a fifth mate? I know—knew—him very well."

  "Is he also one of the good guys?" she asked, studying me carefully.

  "The best," I admitted, pushing the words out through a lump in my throat.

  "Well, he did ask me to marry him." She glanced over her shoulder. "And he is handsome. Kind of like you. You’re a real thinker, I can tell. Even with your mask."

  I squirmed uncomfortably at that. Nothing like having the mother of the woman who you'd just gone down on hours earlier tell you that you were hot.

  She nodded at the shapeshifter. "You saved me from him, you know. I'll find a way to repay you."

  "You already did." I turned to leave, ready to get out of here before I fucked something else up or said too much. I had to find Wren and the others, but first I had to hope that they still existed. If I’d altered time for the worse, I would never forgive myself. Despite having told Wren I would try to do just that for everything I’d done in my past.

  "So long, Mr. Thinker," Bronwen called after me.

  As I stalked behind the boulder, a song floated through the back of my mind. A song Wren had sung softly to herself the morning after we’d had sex. Something about a thinker.

  But I put that out of my mind as I peered out from behind the boulder. Bronwen was already hauling Albert’s body into the cave, with her wrist at his mouth for the change. At least that part of history was the same. But then I noticed something about her I hadn’t before – her abdomen protruded, rounded as though she might be…pregnant? Wren wasn’t that old.

  I didn’t have time to
wrap my mind around that now. I had to make sure Wren, and her future—all our futures—still existed. I hauled ass back to the castle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wren

  So many smells collided in my nose, both familiar and unfamiliar. About halfway down the tower was a heavy wooden door with a single iron handle. No knob or lock. It resisted at first when I pushed on it, so I thought it could be barred from the inside. But it finally scraped the stone as it slid open. On the other side lay a large bedroom with a beautiful brocade curtained bed dominating one side of the room. Across from it, a low fire burned in a hearth. Over the fire were two painted portraits. On the left was a young woman in a low-cut white gown and blue shawl, her blonde hair coiled in a braid like a crown on her head. She had a remarkable resemblance to my mother. But this woman’s eyes were green, and from her neck hung a locket engraved with the letter E.

  To her right hung a picture of a man in a green jacket and white cravat with a large plaid sash swathed across his chest. I knew in an instant from the eyes and shape of his face that this was Albert, yet with smooth, unburned skin, a short beard, and a thick head of sandy brown hair. It was Albert as his human self. He’d had blue eyes, if the painter had portrayed them accurately. The woman must have been Evangeline, his young bride.

  Was I in a time before or after she died? The possibility of seeing my father again, young and warm-blooded and vibrant, filled me with excitement but also sadness.

  He’d lost not only one, but two loves of his life. And both of those lives had ended tragically.

  The bed creaked. Someone stirred behind the curtains. A sleepy voice called out, “Albert, are you coming back to bed? It’s too cold to be chasing boar. It’s much warmer in here with me.”

  I knew I should go back through the door and into the tower, but I froze. The curtains moved, and a woman’s head emerged. She gasped when she saw me.

  “Who are you? It’s my turn with the laird.”

  This woman didn’t look like the woman in the portrait. This girl was rather plump, with bright red hair in a messy braid that hung over one shoulder. And barely a woman at that. She might have been fourteen or fifteen at the most. Either my father cheated on his wife with teenage girls or he was taking comfort in young prostitutes since her death.

  I smiled sweetly. “The laird, you say? Do you mean Albert?”

  “Of course. Who else would I mean?”

  My stomach curdled with embarrassment. Times were different, but still. My own father…

  I swallowed hard. “Sorry, I must be in the wrong room.”

  She looked me up and down with a scowl. “What sort of clothing is that? What clan are you from?”

  “I’m not from here. I’m just…visiting.”

  “Your voice is odd. Are you English?”

  Her scowl only deepened, which made sense. The English and Scottish had hated each other for centuries. I knew that from library books including Outlander. I hadn’t watched the show yet, though I’d remedy that ASAP if I ever made it back home.

  “No, I’m…”

  A scream echoed from beyond another door. The woman in the bed stared at me wide-eyed. I knew I shouldn’t get involved with whatever it was. It could have been anything. Maybe someone saw a rat.

  Then whoever screamed did it again. “In the name of Jesus Christ, be gone, demon!”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Had Doreen sent a demon in here to mess with me? I couldn’t let whatever it was destroy my dad’s household. “Stay put,” I said to the woman, who nodded and disappeared beyond the curtain again.

  As I opened the door to find the source of the trouble, the tower door opened. In came Charles and Zac, practically falling over each other.

  Charles ran to me and engulfed me in a hug, then looked me over. “Are you okay? We heard screaming.”

  “I’m okay. How did you get here?”

  The woman’s head popped out of the curtain again. “Who the hell are they?”

  “Um…my servants,” I said, smiling apologetically at Zac, who rolled his eyes.

  “Servants? Want to join me?” She blinked seductively at Zac and Charles, then revealed a breast. Both of them looked away like the good boys I knew they were.

  “Sorry,” Charles said. “We have to go.”

  She shrugged and sank back behind the bed curtains again.

  “We have to wait for Marlowe,” Zac grumbled.

  “Where did he go?”

  “He went chasing after Albert.”

  “Shit. Why? Are they in danger?”

  “I don’t know,” Charles said.

  A woman screamed again from beyond the interior door. “Be gone! Christ compels thee!”

  I pointed out into the corridor. “What if she needs help?”

  Zac shook his head. “We can’t get involved. It could change everything.”

  “It probably already has. And I’m still here, so at least that’s not changed.”

  “Fine. Let’s go. Don’t get involved any more than you have to.”

  We ventured into the corridor, which was too dark for humans to see without a light source. Zac turned on a light from his watch and followed behind us. Smells were even stronger out here. A mixture of wood smoke, meat, stewed vegetables, herbs, leather, body odor, and human waste made my eyes water. The romantic stories about this time period never mentioned just how disgusting it could smell.

  Another set of stone stairs led us down to a large open room with a long table and huge hearth. We peeked out from the stairwell. Mounted stag and boar heads lined the walls, along with various spears, halberds, and other ceremonial-looking weapons. At one end of the table, an older woman in a drab brown dress held a crucifix up as if warding off something, or someone, obscured by the stairwell wall.

  A dark-hooded figure zoomed across the room, grabbed the woman, and smacked her against the wall. The assailant held the woman by her hair and twisted her head around to expose her bare neck. A vampire? Could it be my mother? I gripped Charles’s arm as cold sweat beaded across my forehead. I had no idea who the victim was. Maybe she deserved death by vampire.

  But she seemed completely helpless. My mother, at least when I knew her, wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.

  Another woman, pale as the boar tusks on the mounted head above her, lay limp by the hearth. Her dead eyes stared up at nothing. Two jagged puncture wounds on her neck seeped what little blood was left in her veins.

  I couldn’t help myself. I stepped down from the last stair. “Put her down!”

  The vampire dropped the woman, who fell into a quivering heap at her feet, and turned to face me. She lowered her hood with pale, shaking hands to reveal long blonde hair parted down the middle. Her blood-red eyes faded to pale yellow as they widened in fear. Her sharp, white fangs glinted in the firelight from the candles on the table. They retracted, and she immediately lowered her head and curtsied.

  This vampire wasn’t my mother.

  But I knew her just the same. And just seeing her there in the flesh turned my blood to lava. My fangs dropped by instinct.

  Ravana.

  Charles and Zac gripped both my shoulders and angled themselves slightly in front of me. They could sense exactly what I wanted to do.

  “Bronwen, I-I thought you were out hunting,” Ravana stammered as she dared a glance at me. “This servant… She is ill, terribly ill, barely hanging on. I was about to put her out of her misery.”

  The woman on the floor looked up and peered around to see me, her cheeks wet, her eyes wide with terror. “The demon’s breath is certainly ill. Not me.”

  Ravana looked down at the woman and hissed. The poor lady cowered, curled into a ball with her arms over her head.

  Turning back to me, Ravana resumed her fearful, subservient act and met my gaze through her thick, dark lashes. “Forgive me, sister, but what have you done with your hair? And who are your companions? Will they be traveling with us? We could share them tonight.”

  Zac g
roaned.

  This was my chance to be rid of her once and for all, before she even knew I was a threat. It would change everything. My mother would still be alive. I wouldn’t have had to fight for my life at every step and survive on rats, afraid that the next meal might be my last.

  “You are a liar,” I growled. “An usurper who needs to die.”

  Charles and Zac’s grips on my shoulders tightened, but even they wouldn’t be able to withstand the rage ticking down inside me like a time bomb.

  Ravana’s eyes hardened. “What did you say, sister?”

  “No!” Marlowe burst into the room from a corridor on the opposite side. “Don’t do anything.”

  “I have to.” I pushed Zac down easily and almost broke free from Charles, but Marlowe rushed over, and both of them held me back.

  “Stop!” I yelled. “Don’t you see? This could change everything!”

  “Exactly,” Marlowe said. “And it could be much, much worse.”

  Ravana blinked at us, her head tilted to one side, thoroughly confused. Her gaze settled on Charles’s tattoo, then Marlowe’s, and some realization dawned on her face.

  “Who are you?” she bit out.

  I struggled against my mates as angry tears burned my eyes. “Let me go!”

  Zac joined their combined efforts, wrapping his arm around my neck in a choke hold. I jutted my head forward and slammed it back into his nose. It crunched under my skull. He staggered back.

  Ravana blurred from the room through the same corridor Marlowe had entered. I charged forward, breaking free of Charles and Marlowe.

  A big ruckus rose up just then from outside. Men’s voices. Lots of them. I skidded to a stop.

  “The laird is missing!”

  “He’s been gored, I tell you. We must form a search party.”

  “There are banshees in those woods. I saw them with my own eyes! They’ve taken his soul, and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “Nonsense. Gather more weapons and provisions. We won’t come back until he’s found.”