Sever the Crown: Vampire Reverse Harem Complete Series

by Mysti Parker

  I handed Marlowe a necklace to fasten around my neck. “Have you heard anything from Zac?”

  He brushed the tendrils of my chestnut brown wig with the fancy updo aside and fastened the clasp. “Nothing. And that’s got me a tad worried.”

  “You don’t think he might be avoiding me because he thinks I might ask him to…you know?”

  Marlowe shrugged as he started massaging my tense shoulders. “Were you really thinking about it?”

  “I don’t have any other prospects at the moment, and Zac knows us.”

  “It would mean turning him, and that’s not something anyone would take lightly. It would mean leaving his family behind.”

  “I don’t think he has any family. He said his wife died in a car wreck.”

  “I’ve dug up as much as possible on him, but his details are about bland as any other detective. Parents are retired, living in a condo in Florida. Graduated near the top of his high school class in Akron, Ohio. Had a wife named Sasha whose death record says she died in an auto accident. No kids.”

  “And nothing really tying him down to a mortal life…” A full-body shudder ran through me as I tried to shake that idea out of existence. Just because Zac didn’t seem to have anyone tying him down didn’t mean I had the right to ask him to make that kind of sacrifice. Our best and only bet was to kill one of Ravana’s mates so we were tied four to four.

  Hawk cleared his throat behind us.

  I turned around, and my jaw dropped. “Uh…wow.”

  “I look like a giant penguin, don’t I?” He smoothed two big hands over his lapels and smiled sheepishly. He may have felt out of place in it, but he sure as hell looked like he was made for it. He didn’t bother with a disguise since Hawk was a regular guest at Senator Kinky Friedman’s parties. And though it peaked my jealousy, he was known for having a different woman on his arm at every event.

  “I’d say you look like a gentleman,” Marlowe said.

  “Ugh, I don’t know what’s worse. But I think we can both agree that our queen looks insanely sexy.”

  I smiled. “This old thing?” Turning around like a model, I struck a pose in my Ralph Lauren little black dress. It was sleeveless, with a flared skirt and wide waistband. “And look! It even has pockets!” I stuck my hands in the two hidden pockets of the skirt and waved them around.

  Charles scooted in past Hawk. “Good. Then you can pack a few of these in there just in case.” He handed me a tin of breath mints.

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked, rattling the box.

  “No. Your breath is immaculate. The mints are powerful mind-altering drugs. You can slip them easily into a drink. They dissolve immediately and work insanely fast. You might remember it as Devil’s Breath.” He flicked his gaze to Hawk. “Remember our little run-in with that?”

  “All too well.” I bumped my hip into Hawk to show there were no hard feelings, at least from me.

  “Whoever drinks it will follow you wherever you want,” Marlowe said, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Making it easier for Hawk to make a justified kill.”

  Ashe scooted in past Charles, continuing this game of How Many Mates Can Fit in Wren’s Bathroom?

  “And I know exactly whose drink we can donate it to,” Hawk said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  Ashe said what we were all thinking, “Disaster.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hawk

  "Take a right here," I instructed Wren.

  We were driving in her car to the party, but not for long. The other mates had gone ahead to work the party and not be guests like the two of us were. This little stop would help us be "fashionably late," which for some reason was important to Kinky's inner circle. I'd been to enough of his parties to know these things, and that his parties were often fueled by DBDs high on drugs and sex into the late-night hours. All of that would be swept up under the rug as it so often was in politics. Tonight, though, Wren and I would yank that rug out from underneath everyone.

  Hopefully before the world ended. And we had a little less than an hour to make sure that didn’t happen.

  Wren put on her blinker and slowed. "Uh, the party's at a car rental shop? We already have wheels."

  "Not big money wheels though. If we show up in anything costing less than a quarter of a million, we'll be noticed and not in a good way. We need to blend in to get in."

  Wren winced and then patted the dash. "It's nothing against you, Birdie. You’re still my girl."

  She parked around the side of the building between two large vans that blocked anyone from seeing her car, and we got out. The light breeze clung the skirt of her black dress tighter to her thighs. She looked stunning from the roots of her black wig to the blood-red polish on her toes peeking from her black high heels.

  "We're not going in?" She pointed to the door as I walked past.

  "Our car's around back. You might hate it."

  She followed, her heels not slowing her down in the slightest. "Well, I hate all cars that aren't named Birdie. I'm biased, I…guess?" Her eyes widened when she saw it, a midnight-black McLaren P1 with red trim and interior. The moonlight glinted off the high-polished surface and glass, making it appear to glow, kind of like the queen herself after I made her come. If we had more time, I’d lay her back on the hood and have a repeat performance.

  "What do you think?" I smiled, watching her closely.

  "I think it's a good thing I'm in a committed relationship with Birdie."

  Chuckling, I opened the passenger door for her. It was one of those that opened upward, not out, and made just a slight whooshing sound as it did. I waved her inside. "After you."

  “This is so damn sexy,” she said, shaking her head.

  After she settled herself in, I headed to the driver's seat where the keys were already in the ignition. Maybe not the smartest security system for this type of car, unless you were the owner of this car rental shop, Marcus Arelus. His side business was ruthless assassin, and some of the jobs I passed on, I forwarded to him. I didn’t spend too much time worrying whether his targets deserved their fate or not. In this business, you need connections, so you have to accept that not everyone has a conscience. Marcus was mean and cutthroat, but babied every single one of the cars on his lot like I babied all the little animals I came across.

  When we hit the road again, Wren put her hand on my thigh. "How's your head? Should you be driving?"

  "Are you saying you want to drive?"

  She laughed. "Yes and no. Mostly yes."

  I didn’t blame her. This thing drove like a dream, the motor purred, and the interior seemed to mold to my body. For one night, I wanted Wren to be pampered with luxury, even as we stormed a party like bad guys. Even if it was our last night.

  I didn’t want to think like that, but there it was, the worry about what might happen tonight beating in a rhythm like a countdown clock.

  "The hammers inside my head are starting up again, but this is a date, and I'm old-fashioned.” I shot her a smile. “But you can drive us back."

  "After a little kidnapping."

  "And after a little murder."

  She nodded. “A little bad for the greater good. I hope Ashe sees it that way.”

  I squeezed her hand, still on my thigh. “He wouldn’t be a waiter at this party if he saw it any other way.”

  She fell quiet at that.

  The streets were busy this time of night with traffic weaving in and out of lanes—except for the SUV stuck to my ass. It hadn't been there for long, but he had his brights on, the fucker, which did terrible things to the headache crashing through my skull. I flicked my gaze between the car and the road, unease making me clench my hands around the steering wheel.

  Wren looked at me and then started to look behind us.

  "Don’t," I told her.

  She froze. "What is it?"

  "Probably n—"

  Behind us, a horn blared for several seconds as the car inched up even closer to
the back bumper, then the horn stopped.

  I pushed on the gas and tried to get into the other lane, but the wheel had locked up. There was no turning it. What the hell? Luxury car, my ass.

  I slammed my hand against the wheel. "Shit."

  "Damn it," Wren hissed, tightening her fists on her lap. "Can you see who it is?"

  "No." I pointed to the glove box where I knew Marcus had hooked me up with weapons. Being in the same line of work helped him know what I needed, and sure enough, when Wren opened it, there was a sufficient amount of guns and ammo for an assassin and his queen.

  The car nudged us hard enough to make us both jerk forward against our seat belts, and some of the guns spilled to the floorboard. Wren picked one up and loaded it like she'd done it a thousand times before, even though I’d never seen her use one. Then she loaded up a second and third one.

  She glanced over and caught me staring. "I've been watching Marlowe. Here." She loaded a Glock and handed it to me. “I know that’s your favorite.”

  She’d been paying attention. What a brilliant, sexy woman.

  The car butted into us again, harder this time, and honked the horn.

  "Not very subtle about their attack, are they?" Wren started to turn and lifted her gun. "I'll take care of this."

  A crack came from behind, followed by a burst of white light, and the gun Wren had been holding melted into a thick pile of black goo that slipped through her fingers like slime.

  I growled as Wren's gaze met mine, her purple contacts flashing with anger.

  "Doreen," we said at the same time.

  It had to be her, using her chaotic magic against us. And she was crazy enough to try and kill us, or at least slow us way down.

  "Brace yourself," I told Wren, and when she nodded and stiffened in her seat, I slammed on the brakes.

  Tires squealed, ours and Doreen's and whatever poor souls were behind her. We came to a stop in the middle of a huge intersection, but it couldn't be helped. Doreen smashed into us hard.

  We recovered quickly, and Wren flicked the goo in her hand to the floorboard.

  "Out," I said. “Grab the guns.”

  With a glance in the rearview, steam and dust puffed out from the twisted metal that used to be the trunk of the car. Marcus was going to kill me—or worse—if we survived past tonight.

  We shot out of the car. Other cars were forced to stop around us, and some drivers rage-honked while others climbed out of their vehicles to help.

  One guy walked toward us. "Hey, are you all r—"

  But he shut right up and backed off at the sight of Wren flipping me a second gun over the top of the rental, which I caught one-handed and swiveled toward Doreen’s crumpled SUV.

  Wren and I drew closer to either side of the SUV, our guns drawn and aimed, mirroring each other's speed and angle and lethal intent without really trying. But as we cleared the smoke rising from the SUV’s smashed hood and neared the open windows, we found the car empty. No driver. No passenger.

  "Shit." Wren tore open the passenger door and peered into the back seat while I searched the busy street for any sign of the witch.

  I’d already studied a photograph of her face to see if I could justify killing her or not. She was trouble, and that trouble didn’t derive from some mental illness. Images had fired up, but the most important rose to the top the fastest—how she treated her witch’s familiar cat. And how she’d treated animals and those weaker than her throughout life. Her kind of crazy had nothing behind it but a nasty, greasy soul.

  Horns blared and people shouted at us to get off the road, while others just gawked at the man in a tux and the beauty in the dress who probably looked like they'd just stepped out of a spy movie. But I didn't see the little witch in sight. She'd simply vanished, though I doubted it was simple at all.

  "Where did she go?" Wren demanded.

  More horns sounded, along with the crash of metal barreling toward us. I didn't immediately realize what was happening until bright white lights zeroed in on us from two directions at once. Coming right at us in the middle of the intersection. Headlights from two buses speeding toward us as fast as freight trains and pummeling everything in their paths. I caught a glimpse of the bus drivers' terrified faces through their windows. They weren't the ones in control.

  "Wren!"

  But she was already blurring out of the way. I did, too, seconds before the two buses smashed into both the SUV and my McLaren P1 rental and pancaked them.

  Fuck. Marcus would dangle my innards from his rearview mirror before he killed me, if I was lucky.

  Wren circled around toward me, her gun still drawn, blazing fury in her eyes. "She's just playing with us."

  “Uh-huh.” That was her MO. An agent of chaos, like the Joker from Batman.

  "Come on."

  “Wait! What about the passengers?”

  Leave it to Wren to think about the humans on the busses. Luckily, sirens were already blaring toward us.

  “Let the EMTs handle it. They’ll be okay.” I stored my guns in the back of my pants underneath my tux jacket, then grabbed Wren's arm and led her to the sidewalk, her rage shaking through her bones. "If Doreen attacks again, we pick the place and make sure it's away from all these people."

  That seemed to make Wren feel better. She gave a firm nod. “Okay.”

  A parking garage's orange lights glowed up ahead. It was either that or a crowded 7-Eleven with a bunch of slack- jawed teens, at least on this block. The parking garage would have to do.

  "What about the car?" Wren looked over her shoulder at it and grimaced. "That's a quarter of a million dollars, gone."

  More than that, actually. More like 1.15 million dollars. My stomach soured at the thought.

  "Let me worry about that." Taking her hand, I led her inside the garage, past the empty guard station, and around the orange and white barrier.

  More sirens, and now flashing lights, closed in.. The street was about to get a lot busier. Good thing we were leading Doreen away.

  The windshields of the parked cars winked in the overhead lights, and the smells of exhaust and trash spilling out of a nearby garbage can filled the air.

  "Not exactly what I had in mind for date night," I muttered.

  "Are you kidding?” Wren put her guns in her dress pockets and smiled, though it was shaky. “I'm having a great time."

  I chuckled, but it died in my throat at the sight of an officer ahead turning the corner toward us. On instinct, I tugged Wren between two cars and ducked us down.

  “Why are we hiding?” she whispered.

  “So we don’t have to deal with questions.”

  The two cars we were sandwiched between sounded their alarms, beeping and flashing and signaling the cop right toward us even though we hadn’t touched them. Strange…

  “Back the way we came,” I muttered. “Act natural.”

  We stood and headed back the way we came, away from the cop.

  That was the plan anyway.

  Bullets cracked the air and whizzed past us, much too close. The cop was shooting at us, and was aiming to kill.

  We dove for cover between two more cars, Wren's hand tucked firmly in mine. A quick glance through the window, and I realized this was no ordinary cop. He walked toward us like a runway model with his hand on his hip. As soon as the car alarms went quiet, and he stopped shooting, the cop let loose an insane, and definitely female, cackle.

  Doreen…somehow. Witch magic.

  Sharing a weighted look with Wren, I retrieved my Glock and clicked the safety off. She did the same with her gun.

  "Where are you two headed looking so divine?" Doreen asked, about ten feet away now. "Surely you're not going to a little party tonight, are you? Thinking about saving the world?"

  Still in a squat, Wren pressed her back against the car and tiptoed toward the trunk. Her lips peeled back in a snarl, fangs extended. "Surrender, Doreen!"

  "I'm not the one who's in a position to surrender,” Doreen shout
ed. “You are."

  The cars on either side of us burst into flame, the licking fire forcing us out into the open.

  Right into the line of fire of a herd of police officers pouring through the entrance, guns drawn. And they kept coming, more and more of them blocking our way out. They came from Doreen’s direction too. It was as though she had somehow brought the whole police force down upon us. That, or this was an elaborate illusion spell.

  But as soon as they started firing, their bullets felt very real. One grazed my knee. Another took out the very tip of my ear. We didn't have enough ammo to take care of all of them, and real or not, I couldn’t kill these officers.

  Wren didn’t have the same hang-ups. She fired into the charging horde.

  I pushed her arm down. “Don’t kill, just run.”

  We sped toward the stairs, zigzagging and firing warning shots over our shoulders. The officers blurred toward us at vampiric speed.

  "Running upstairs is never a good idea,” Wren shouted from in front of me. “What's the plan?"

  "No idea," I admitted, but I wasn't worried. Only determined to end this, and I’d find a way.

  As we neared the rooftop of the garage, some of the real Doreen flashed in several of the nearest officers—slender fingers gripping a gun instead of meaty ones, long red hair where there’d been nothing but a bald man’s head before. Parts of her blinked into existence and then faded back into the officers.

  “Her magic is dying out,” Wren said. “This is a huge spell, whatever it is.”

  I hoped she was right. The police—or copies of Doreen or whatever—were just a few seconds behind us when we burst out onto the rooftop.

  “Where to?” Wren shouted.

  I opened my mouth to answer but then snapped it shut. I expected hundreds of footsteps pounding toward us, not the rev of an engine and the squeal of tires behind us. I threw a glance back.

  The police were gone. Instead, Doreen sat behind the wheel of a Land Rover, her teeth gritted in a crazy scowl, her foot smashed to the gas.