Drayven. Fucking Drayven.
The man was walking down the steps—towards the throne room, if I had to guess—with all of the dangerous predatory energy you would expect from a man that large. No wonder everyone seemed to love him. The man just looked like a leader and someone you didn’t want to mess with. Plus, it was no secret that the rest of the royals in our territory were grooming him to take over the throne if my father died. There was no way they would allow me to claim my birthright of the throne if my father wasn’t around to back me up.
Drayven was powerful and had a strong sense of loyalty to Mortem that had quickly allowed him to rise through the ranks.
His gaze ran over my form before narrowing on my wings in a look of disgust, causing me to nearly let out a growl. The man was such an ass.
A gorgeous one, but still an ass.
My cheeks heated more as we walked past without saying a word to one another, and memories assaulted my brain. Even his friends were smart enough to not bring up the situation I’d still yet to live down to this day.
A moment that I’d promised myself I would never repeat.
Drayven and I had known one another our entire lives, and despite his being three years older than me, I had always had a massive crush on him. How could I not? He was the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on, with his confidence and powerful aura that seeped out of him effortlessly. People gravitated towards him, and it was so clear that he was a natural born leader. Something that I was more envious of than you would ever believe.
It didn’t hurt that he was also extremely tall, stacked with muscle, and had a twin set of dimples when he smiled. He might have the typical features of a Reaper—pale skin, silver hair, and black eyes—but there was something unique about him that drew me to him inexplicably, like a moth to a flame.
I was sixteen when I’d decided to tell him that. Publicly, after school. In front of everyone.
I had really thought the feelings were reciprocated, since the man had, you know, fucking kissed me two days before. But apparently, I’d read that situation wrong because he had not only shot me down but also said, and I quote…” You nearly sucked my soul from my body the other day. How could I ever be with a hybrid who can’t control her powers? You are a danger to us all.”
Yeah, you can probably imagine the wonders that did for my teenage confidence levels. I’d also been livid because I’d given my first—and likely last, due to the whole soul sucking thing—kiss to such an insensitive jerk.
Now, two years later, things were still uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to be in a room with him without having the urge to punch him in his ridiculously sharp jawline.
“Ama...” Zurie offered me a pointed look, and I glanced down at my hands, which were surrounded by a reddish-pink swirl of power. My Succubus side coming out to play.
“What?!” I offered in mock defense, “I’m just saying, I don’t think it would hurt the man to take a trip on the wild side. He’s so uptight.”
“You cannot use your powers to create a mass orgy here.” She shook her head, smiling at my most recent idea, as we turned the hall up ahead.
“I still think it’s a great idea.” I grinned in satisfaction at the thought, “He will never see it coming.”
I made a point to almost never use my Succubus powers…although, this felt like a pretty solid excuse to break my own rule. He had embarrassed me, so I’d do the same to him. I also needed to ignore the ridiculous surge of jealousy I felt at even the idea of him being part of said orgy, not only because it made no sense, considering the man was my arch nemesis of sorts, but also because I made a point of trying to feel nothing but hatred for him.
“Sounds like he will see a lot of coming if you do that,” Zurie deadpanned.
“Did you just make a sex joke?!” I exclaimed with a smile, feeling proud of myself. I was clearly converting her to the dark side. If the dark side included my dirty sense of humor, inner grumblings, and extreme lack of experience when it came to sex.
Yeah, I was apparently failing in that area as well. How many adult Succubi or Incubi do you know who are virgins? I can tell you how many I know. One. That one being me.
“Maybe.” She grinned and tugged my hand. “Come on, you have ten minutes until you have to go meet with your dad.”
She was right, which meant I needed to get ready because, while he was my father, no one kept the Grim Reaper waiting.
Chapter Two
Ama
I knew I was going to be late the minute I stepped into the steam shower in my en suite. After being pelted by hard, cold rain and wind, zapped in the chest, and soaked to the bone, my feet wanted to stay firmly planted to this spot as my body relaxed. I also knew that I would rather be a little late and have my shit together than try to rush down there with wet hair, panting and out of breath. I was made fun of enough already—I’d much prefer to show up looking good, since people would talk crap either way. They’d at least be liars if they said I looked a mess.
After my first ten minutes in the shower, I had a feeling that Zurie had left and gone about her day. I didn’t blame her—she knew better than anyone how long I could take getting ready.
One time, when we were attending a ball, we’d been nearly three hours late because I couldn’t decide what dress I wanted to wear. Then, I’d been distracted by the music we were listening to and had opted to sing and dance instead of getting ready for the stuffy political event. Before I knew it, my father had sent the guards to check on me because of how late I was. Oops.
However, since I had no one waiting on me in my room this time, I carefully blow dried and straightened my hair, the black silky texture glowing with my crimson highlights. I applied a light amount of makeup, darkening my brows, and added a bit of dark red lipstick that brought out the pink in my eyes. After a quick nod in the mirror, I walked towards my extensive closet and began searching for the right outfit to wear.
My father wouldn’t have cared what I showed up in, but considering the crowd that filled his throne room, I knew it was more important than he let on. I plucked out a pair of dark jeans, tugging them on over a pair of pink lace panties and matching bra, before adding a dark tank top. I added a red crystal necklace that rested on my cleavage and a cherry-colored leather jacket to keep the chill away. Finally, I slid on a pair of combat boots, met my reflection in the mirror, and did a little turn, smiling at the results.
I knew it was a little stereotypical to love fashion so much, being a princess and all…but in my defense, I was crazy bored. When you only had one friend in a den of people who despised you, you found other means of entertainment that weren't socializing. Mine happened to be my not so little clothing obsession. My motto was that if you looked good, you felt good, and I needed every little piece of confidence I could muster to survive here.
As I made my way through my dark bedroom, the heavy curtains drawn, and my large red, gothic bed perfectly made from this morning, I found I'd been right. Zurie was gone.
A part of me momentarily considered not going to the meeting. I looked longingly at the crimson red velvet couch stationed in front of the fireplace. The dark, skinny windows showcased the storm flashing outside, and my bookcase was practically calling to me, urging me to curl up on the couch and escape to somewhere that wasn’t filled with judgmental jerks.
I mean, did my dad really need me there?
Then again, Drayven would likely be there for the open court session, so, if I wanted to prove that I was a better successor than him, it would do me good to show up.
Every century, the six houses held a Summit to determine the next Supreme for the hundred years to come. The Supreme was the tiebreaker and final vote on all decisions funneled through the kings and queens of each house during the hundred-year span of their rule. They were also given enhanced abilities in order to be able to keep the other houses in check if they stepped out of line. Because of this unique benefit, it was a prized appointment t
hat needed to be given to the right person. If someone with the wrong ambitions received it, it could easily be abused to give their own house a tremendous leg up over the others.
It was generally understood that someone with an even temperament and unbiased mindset, focused on the good of the realm, was the best fit for a position like the Supreme.
That’s why my father had held it for so long.
My dad liked to keep me informed as much as possible on his plans regarding the House of Death, which of course made me feel like he not only trusted me but had faith in my potential as a leader. That thought gave me the final push I needed to go to this meeting. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted to make him proud. Even if it meant attending the open court after a meeting consisting of our royal court of the House of Death asking a million and ten questions about the Summit and our plans moving forward.
I inhaled sharply, pulling myself out of a particular relaxing fantasy of lazing around in bed reading, and moved with determination towards the door. I would not hide away. Even if the concept of arriving alone was more intimidating and frustrating than I would like to admit.
The heavy door of my suite closed behind me with a loud bang before I could talk myself out of going. Two guards offered me nods of greeting from where they stood on either side of the door. I offered one of them a smile, not recognizing him and wanting to be friendly. I quickly realized my mistake.
Annoyance with myself filtered through me as a pink blush hit his cheeks and a hazy look invaded his dark eyes. The look associated with my Succubus allure. The one that I never used because it reminded me so much of all the harm those powers could cause.
Being a hybrid sucked.
Being rejected by the territory you half belonged to was awful.
But managing to keep one half of your essence tied down because you weren’t comfortable with what it was capable of? Yeah. That was a new level of pain, if I was being honest.
Sometimes it became overwhelming—the need to feed off others' lust and desires. Sometimes it was so bad that I would feel like I was getting sick, my throat drying up and a fever spiking. I still never gave in.
I refused to be like her. My mother.
Luckily, I could gain energy and feed in a different way, and while it was still uncomfortable not using that side of me, I had figured out a way to make it bearable. By using Reaper magic to feed off the lust that had accumulated in their souls over their lifespan, I was able to subdue the part of me that wanted to feed off the physical component of that energy. One that I had yet to experience myself and likely never would.
You would think, as a Succubus, I would have made it a point to experience as much lust as possible, but I didn’t. Not only did I actively avoid it, but I also had yet to truly feel it. Well, ok, that wasn’t completely true. There had only been one person that I had felt an insurmountable sense of desire towards—Drayven. So, now those emotions were gone. Sort of… okay, I was a bit of a liar. I thought about Drayven far more than I cared to admit, especially when I was alone.
It was crap that I would still be attracted to such a jerk. Why couldn’t I feel an overwhelming desire for a man who wasn’t an ass? Luckily for me, the hatred I felt towards him made not using that side of my magic far easier. Plus, this way I was able to use my scythe more and remind myself that I didn’t need that other half of me.
I was itching to go on another mission to reap souls soon. Thankfully my dad understood my need to feed in that manner, and assigned me to go more often than others my age. Unfortunately, it definitely did me no favors with blending in. It often angered the others that I was being given special treatment. A reaper’s scythe was a symbol of their power levels, the more souls they reaped, the more energy their scythe was able to hold. They thought he was giving me the opportunity to become more powerful than them, when really, he was just giving me the opportunity to stay alive without being forced to use the half of me that I despised.
I couldn’t blame them for feeling anger towards me, but I also didn’t feel comfortable sharing why I had to feed that way with individuals who hated me. I literally needed to do it to satisfy the other half of me. No. They didn’t need another reminder of how different I was from them.
As I thought of my scythe, my power hummed in pleasure at its appearance, the metal warm beneath my hand. My Reaper magic took the form of black smoke streaked with small electrical currents of crimson that matched my hair, circling and crawling up my arm in greeting before dissipating.
All Reapers had scythes, but mine was particularly badass, as it was crafted with a special mixture of metals that only the royal line had access to. It was a reminder of my status here, no matter how many times people tried to belittle me and tell me I had no claim to the throne after my father was gone.
I made my way through the private quarters of the royal family and headed down several sets of stairs, noting that more people had begun to appear. The castle itself was usually very crowded, the dark gothic halls and large array of rooms containing everything from social gatherings to business meetings throughout the day. It was one of the reasons I was glad my father had sectioned off our personal quarters from the rest of the castle, allowing for some semblance of privacy.
I didn’t want to have to worry about people interrupting my leisurely time spent reading. That had happened once last year, and I had nearly thrown my book across the room to avoid my tutor realizing I was smack dab in the middle of a steamy scene.
No, thank you. I did not need my seventy something year old tutor realizing that I had taken a liking to romance novels. Graphic romance novels.
That would have been beyond awkward, and I hadn’t wanted to be held responsible if he’d collapsed on the spot upon finding out. I hadn’t thought his old heart could take the shock to the system.
I could feel judgmental gazes on me as I roamed down the hallway, and I summoned my favorite accessory. A cool metal weight settled on top of my head, resting like a shield. I found people were far less likely to openly make rude comments about me while I was wearing my crown.
Although, it was a bit uncomfortable. Probably due to the black encrusted diamonds and dark metal frame that rested around my horns a bit snuggly.
As I neared the throne room, the crowds grew, and I walked through the heavy groups of people until I reached the doors. Instantly, individuals were moving out of my way as the guards let me cross into the large, nearly four-story ceiling space that contained not only the royal court, but also my father’s throne.
Upon my entrance, my father immediately looked up, a happy smile filling his face as the person he was talking to turned to look at me with a disapproving expression.
Oh well.
My dad and I were super close, and over the years there had been people who had tried to drive a wedge in our family because they didn’t believe I should be considered an heir. Mostly women who’d tried to replace my mother. But each and every time, my dad not only saw through their attempts but dismissed them from court. He was extremely protective of our small family, and even though my mother wasn’t in the picture anymore, I knew there would never be anyone else for him.
“Ama!” He stood up as everyone stared at us, my lighthearted pace taking me up the marble stairs that led to where his dark stone throne sat. Honestly, it was a super cool throne, if I did say so myself. Not only was it made of completely solid stone, carved from one piece, but the bottom of it was covered with skulls that had been welded into place, facing outwards so their dark sockets stared at you from all directions.
A little creepy, but like I said, pretty damn cool.
“Hey, Dad!” I flashed a smile as he offered a small wave of a hand, dismissing those around him as he motioned for me to follow him. I couldn’t lie, I absolutely loved that he was taking the time out of his day—and theirs—to have a meeting to brief me on everything. He knew how harsh the royals were to me and always strived to prepare me to the best of his ability. To say he wa
s a pretty fantastic dad was the understatement of the century.
I always found it odd to see my dad looking so ‘casual’ compared to his royal Reaper style. You would have thought it would be the opposite, right? Nope. When he attended court, which was only about once a week, he ditched the dark robes and intimidating magic for jeans and a t-shirt with loafers. Very dad-ish indeed. He still looked scary as hell though.
Clearly I’d gotten most of my looks from my mother, because my dad was not only extremely tall—like over 6’5”—but he had zero of the trademark Succubus traits I’d inherited. He also had the typical Reaper silver hair, which he wore in a messy style that made him look far younger than the thousands of years he’d probably been around. Despite him always evading the question when I asked him how old he was, I was still bound and determined to find out eventually.
Behind his throne was a set of heavy dark doors, guarded by nearly ten men who immediately let us through. My father’s scythe and crown almost immediately disappeared once we were inside his private business quarters. If there was one thing I knew about my dad, it was that he took absolutely no joy in ruling.
In fact, if there had been anyone ready and willing to take his place, he would probably have handed it over immediately. Unfortunately, the only true heir to the position was hated by the entire kingdom. Yeah, that was me. Which was why they had been training Drayven.
“I was worried something had happened on your flight when you didn’t show up on time.” He sat down on one of the couches as I groaned in response, dramatically laying out across the other couch and kicking my combat boots up onto the table that was set with a stunning lunch neither of us would probably touch. Not that it didn’t look delicious, but whenever I was near such a large group of judgmental pricks, I sort of lost my appetite. They’d probably find a way to talk shit about the way I chewed.
Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1) Page 2
