Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1)

by R. L. Caulder

  They didn't.

  Lifting my chin, I let my lips pull back into a toothy grin that encompassed my face, “Why, thank you, Fin. You look rather dashing yourself.”

  He tossed me a wink and said, “That’s my girl. Shine.”

  Swoon. Fucking swoon. He’d just called me his girl.

  My eyes landed on the sweet Hellhound I’d found myself intrigued by. Damien looked dashing, and I genuinely grinned as he took my hand and kissed it politely. There was a heat simmering behind the kiss on my skin, likely due to his Hellhound nature, and my mind immediately drifted to how that warmth would feel a little further down my body.

  Focus, Ama. Devil, how many men do you need?

  I missed what Damien said to me as I attempted to tame myself, and I winced as I asked, “I’m sorry, what was that? I got a little lost in thought for a moment.”

  He chuckled good-naturedly, thankfully not taking it personally. "I said that my House is only a table away if you need something tonight. I happened to get here first and swapped some of the place cards around," he ended by wiggling his eyebrows at me mischievously.

  Smacking his arm playfully, I gushed, "That's amazing. I can't believe you did that, but I totally love you for it. Who did they originally have me by?"

  His eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly as Fin made a grunting noise beside me. Completely unaware of my own words, I asked with my brows pinched together, "What? What did I do? I know I didn't fart or anything."

  I was positive I’d done something far more embarrassing, but I’d found that, when in doubt…fart jokes. Fart jokes always broke the tension. They were the skeleton key to relieving awkwardness.

  As I’d hoped, my comment snapped them out of their shock. Fin choked on a laugh, and Damien blushed deeply as he answered. "You uhm, just said that you love me for it. It's totally cool," he ended by holding up both hands in the universal symbol for "okay", with his pointer finger and thumb tips touching and his other fingers up.

  He looked the total opposite of cool right now. More like frazzled, flustered, or downright flabbergasted. Apparently, I had a thing for “f” words right now, which made sense because it felt like all these boys were making me think of sinful things constantly—the biggest one being fucking.

  Had I really said I loved him? I suppose I had.

  The tips of my ears heated at the fact that I had said “love” so nonchalantly. It was very much not a normal thing for me to say, and because my brain fucking hated me, I was now thinking of all of the princes in one room, making love to me at the same time. Where the hell did these ideas even come from? Seriously.

  Fanning my hand to get some air moving, I panted, "Do they have air conditioning in here, or am I the only hot one?"

  Distract everyone from the awkward conversation. Yup. That was smart.

  "I think you're definitely the only hot one here," a rumbling voice purred in my ear. A familiar voice, attached to a man I hadn’t gotten to speak to more than a few moments, but with whom I already found myself enamored. Unfortunately, Drayven had scared him off before I’d had a chance to speak with him much.

  Nico.

  Finias rolled his eyes and motioned like he was throwing up, and I giggled as I turned around and properly greeted the Incubus prince. I had felt his powers reach out for me when we first met, and at the time it had confused me. It hadn’t felt grimy or pushy, like other Incubus and Succubus energies I’d felt.

  It was teasing and gentle. Exploratory, even. Like he wanted my power to come out and play with his.

  Nico’s eyes were like pools of liquid gold that drew me in immediately. This man was dangerous. Obviously, as a member of the House of Sin, it came with the territory that everyone was ridiculously good looking, but he was so much more than that. He oozed confidence that wasn't cocky, just self-assured. Like, when he knew what he wanted, he went for it, and nothing would get between him and what he desired.

  And, at this moment, the predatory glint in his eyes told me that what he desired was me. In keeping with my new self-love motto, I allowed my Succubus energy to rise to the surface and reach out to him as I offered him my hand to shake and said, "Hello there, Nico. It's nice to see you again."

  Disregarding my hand, he reached out and placed his hands lightly on my bare arms as he leaned into my ear once more and whispered, "The pleasure is all mine, gorgeous." As he spoke, I felt his energy twine together with mine, followed by a featherlight stroke where the slit in my dress exposed my leg. Damnit. He was good. Nico was literally so good at this—the man oozed sex, and my knees felt wobbly and weak.

  How was he touching me, though? His hands were still on my shoulders, so I knew it had to be his power. Unless it was his...No, do not go there, Ama.

  "Save me a dance," he quietly demanded as he pulled back from me and walked away towards his house's table, which seemed to be in the opposite corner of the large ballroom.

  I swear, the man could read a dictionary and I'd end up in a pool of my own drool. His voice was so fucking sexy.

  The clearing of a throat drew my attention back to Damien, who supplied an answer to my previous question, "The House of Sin and the House of Fallen were originally the tables closest to you."

  "Thank fucking devil you changed that," Finias groaned out, and I smiled coyly, liking the slightly territorial tone to his voice. It wasn't jealousy, which made it all the hotter. His hand reached out to snake around my waist and settled lightly on my hip.

  Damien's gaze immediately latched onto the move, and I saw his face fall slightly. My heart panged at the idea of making him feel uncomfortable or unwanted when he had been so amazing and supportive. Wiggling out of Fin's grip, I looked up at him and asked, "Grab me a drink?"

  In a very bold move that shocked even me, as we had so many eyes on us, Finias leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before walking toward the bar set up in the back corner of the room. There was already quite a long line. I suppose booze was the quickest way to ease the nerves at gatherings like this.

  Turning to face Damien, I held out a hand and smiled, "Want to dance? I think he's going to be stuck for a while."

  His eyes flashed orange for a moment as he played with his cufflinks nervously before responding, “I’d be honored.” My hand was still outstretched for him to take, but he was glancing at it nervously, so I retracted it, feeling confused. We’d have to touch to dance. Why would he say yes to my offer if he was afraid to touch even my hand?

  As my hand began to drop, his shot out to catch it, and he moved closer until we were separated by only a few inches. "I'm sorry. I've just never felt such an intense desire from my Hellhound before, and I worry about him taking over when I'm with you."

  I admittedly didn't know much about how the Hellhounds’ shifts worked. Curious, I asked, "Is he a separate entity from you?"

  He rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he answered, "Yes. My emotions are heightened by his, but we do often have distinctly different impulses on how to handle situations."

  Intrigued by this, I inquired, "Like when? I don’t know much about Hellhounds…but I would like to know more about you, Damien.” Was that clear enough? I felt like I was being pretty damn clear.

  His free hand rose up to tug on the tight collar of the dress shirt under his jacket as he winced. "Like right now. He wants to mark you, and I'm really fighting the urge to do that, as it would be completely indecent, and you are clearly with Finias."

  Oh. Wow.

  Genuine butterflies erupted in my stomach at his gentle, polite, yet honest answer. His answer didn't scare me away like I think he thought it might, based upon the wince and trepidation with which he had said it.

  Tugging on his hand, I began to walk towards the dance floor in the middle of the room. "Let's go dance."

  Relief flooded his features, and his shoulders relaxed as he let me guide him to the edge of the crowd that was dancing slowly to the same pianist and violinist duo from yesterday. T
urning to face him, I placed my arms loosely around his neck, and his hands came to softly touch my waist. He looked at me nervously, as if asking permission.

  He was so sweet it made my toes curl in delight at the genuine soul that resided within him. He was a rare gem. We began to sway to the music, and I decided I wanted to keep learning more about this incredible man.

  "So, was that your Hellhound rising to the surface when your eyes flashed orange?"

  "Yes."

  "You said he wanted to mark me." Damien's body tensed slightly. "Does that mean he approves of me?"

  "You could say that." He smiled, amusement flashing in his gaze, as his hands tightened minutely against my waist.

  I nibbled on my lower lip out of habit before I remembered I had lipstick on and stopped. I wanted to ask him if I could meet his Hellhound, but I couldn't figure out if that would be rude of me or not.

  Eh, fuck it. I didn't get the feeling that he would be put off by my honest questions.

  Peering up at him from under my lashes, I squeaked out, "Can I meet him? Not now, obviously, but eventually—"

  He immediately stopped moving, and I groaned, apologizing, "I'm so sorry. I knew I shouldn't have asked that."

  His large hand pushed my chin up to look at him instead of hanging my head in embarrassment. "I would love for you to meet him."

  There was an intensity to his gaze I didn’t completely understand, and everything in me told me to tread lightly—that maybe this other part of Damien wasn’t as sweet as he was. The dual nature of this man seriously turned me on, and I found myself wanting to experience both of them.

  Before I could answer, a clammy hand landed on my arm, bringing my attention to the man it belonged to. The king of the House of Sin.

  Fucking yuck.

  "I believe the song is over. May I have this next dance?" he asked politely, but the way his eyes roamed over my body was anything but polite.

  Damien's chest rumbled as a growl worked its way out, and I immediately moved to soothe him with a hand on his chest, rubbing gently. "It's okay, Damien."

  Glancing back at the king, I smiled—well, more like grimaced—and mustered all of the fake politeness I could gather. "Of course. I suppose we should chat about the vote anyway."

  I felt sick to my stomach the second I put my hand in his, and dread washed through me, mental alarm bells sounding and alerting me that I should not be doing this.

  But I had to. I had to do this for my house—it's what I was here for.

  I'd give him one dance and figure out where he stood on the vote during that short time so I could be done with him.

  "Oh, you naïve little vixen, didn't you know it's rude to discuss business on the first dance? Did your father teach you no manners?"

  Fuck this.

  Chapter Twenty

  Colt

  “She’s a whore—a hybrid whore who is fucking others to gain votes,” my father hissed to my mother, her attempts at trying to calm him ineffective as the man worked himself into a fit. The tick in my jaw and tension rolling through me at his words weren’t something I was willing to examine just yet. I nearly rolled my eyes at that, knowing exactly what it was, but instead kept them trained right where they’d been since she entered the room.

  Ama.

  I had absolutely no idea what to make of the woman, and it was both infuriating and exhilarating. I loved the way she continued to challenge everyone, including me. I’d also loved the sleepy little scowl on her face this morning when I’d gone to wake her up.

  I wanted to push her until she lost control while basking in her interesting mix of magic that was like a euphoric buzzing sensation against my skin. I exhaled slowly, taking a sip of my drink, as I tried to not let that other feeling slide into my consciousness.

  The one that told me to rip her out of the king’s arms. His Incubus power flooded the space around him as usual, as if he was trying to compensate for something.

  Even if it didn’t affect her—if it was somehow nullified by her own Succubus magic—I hated the way he was touching her. I hated the leering way he leaned closer to her. The emotions I was feeling were ten times more than the annoyance I’d felt at her being in Damien’s arms. I didn’t like the Hellfire prince. At all. He was far better than the king, but still not my favorite person here.

  It felt wrong that someone like Damien got to dance with Ama. What had the man done to deserve that? To deserve her attention? He was completely uncontrolled, and while he was terrifying to most, it was only because of his unpredictable nature. And the absolute chaos and massacres his Hellhound wrought upon enemies of the realm. It wasn’t because of his natural leadership ability—he was just a psychotic force to be reckoned with in his Hellhound form.

  I would bet Ama didn’t know any of that. I would bet she had absolutely no idea what he turned into—shifting into not just a Hellhound, but a notoriously murderous one. I shook my head and tried to block out my father’s words as they began to grate on me. Why the hell wouldn’t he just let it go? Seriously, you would have thought the man cared about Ama’s opinion, based on the way he was griping and insulting her. I knew that wasn’t the case, though.

  No, he’d just had his pride and ego absolutely decimated by Ama, so now he hated her more than he had before. It didn’t help that she was a hybrid, but he hated when any women stood up to him—which was why my mother was so damn submissive. I loved the woman, but watching her get walked all over by my father made me more and more uncomfortable as the years went on.

  Ama would absolutely never be okay with that.

  The thing I worried about was that my father was rather…irrational when it came to his pride. I was worried he would go after or try to hurt Ama. The idea infuriated me, and while I supported our territory, Angelus, I didn’t think I could justify hurting Ama just because of my father’s ego. I just hoped it didn’t come to that. I hoped I never needed to make that choice.

  I really needed to get this woman out of my head, but instead, I found myself standing as she tried to push away from the House of Sin’s king. It wasn’t a hard shove, but the look of disgust on her face was enough that I was crossing the room, feeling more than validated in removing her from the presence of that asshole.

  Good thing my parents hated the House of Sin as well. Hopefully, they wouldn’t think my actions were that odd. I didn’t have a good explanation for them.

  “You’re seriously disgusting,” Ama hissed. “What is wrong with you?”

  The man chuckled, his fingers digging into her back in a bruising hold that had me wanting to snap them off. “The only thing wrong right now is that I’m not getting a chance to see what’s under that tight fucking—”

  I had never been so thankful for my strength and size as I was in that moment. I towered over the man, my fingers wrapping around his wrist as I exerted enough pressure that he cried out. Immediately, he let go of her, and she stumbled into me, her face flushed with anger as she narrowed her eyes at the bastard. I wouldn’t lie—I loved how she was leaning into me, allowing me to shield her from him. I shouldn’t love it, but I did.

  “Prince Colt.” The king adjusted his outfit and tossed Ama a scowl, “If you had wanted a dance, you should have just asked.”

  “Just like I asked you to let go?” Ama growled like a fierce kitten, her magic amping up as I smoothed a hand around her waist, lightly massaging the skin that was no doubt sore from his grip.

  “You are not only a freak, but a prude one,” the king snarled, leaning towards us, “You don’t fit in anywhere, do you? Not in the House of Death, not in the House of Sin, and for sure not amongst royalty. I would start thinking about your options, Ama, because the only way you have a chance of surviving this experience is by spreading your pretty thighs.”

  A low growl tore from my throat as I caught her around the waist, the Incubus fleeing like a little bitch as Ama tried to follow. I immediately spun her against me and grasped her jaw gently, forcing her to look away
from the asshole in question and instead focus on me. Something that I found myself feeding off of. That couldn’t be healthy.

  “Calm down, Princess, he’s not worth it. No one here respects the House of Sin. Trust me.”

  “I don’t care about respect! I care about him being a creepy bastard,” Ama snarled, shaking my grip on her jaw off but not moving from my grasp.

  “What exactly did he say to you?” I had to ask. Of course I had to ask—even though I knew it would no doubt piss me off.

  Her face started to look less flushed, and she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against me as she attempted to calm down. My fingers were splayed gently against her waist, and I had to fight the urge to wrap her hair around my fist, wanting to feel the soft texture against my rough fingers. I cleared my throat so the groan at the image of her bent over as I fisted her hair didn’t break through. I knew she was trying to calm down—she would probably detonate if she discovered that I was being a bit of a creep as well.

  At least I had the damn courtesy to keep those thoughts to myself.

  “He said that he’d never fucked a hybrid before,” she muttered, shaking her head. “He thought it would be an ‘exotic experience.’ Who the hell says that to someone?”

  “Someone from the House of Sin,” I answered immediately and winced at the face she made. How easy it was to forget the woman was from the House of Sin as well…genetically, at least. She clearly hadn’t been raised in their culture at all; she was completely different from them.

  Her body tensed and she tried to step away, as if just now realizing whose arms she was in, “Why are you over here, again? I appreciate the save, but I could have handled it myself.”

  But you allowed me to handle it, Princess. Why did I want to continue to handle her problems for her? Better yet, why the fuck was I so protective of this woman? I should have stepped away and left her alone, but instead, I found myself leading her from our standstill on the dance floor to the side, an empty table allowing us to have some level of privacy.