Blood Deception: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Royal Covens Book 2)

by Kaylin Peyerk

  “You’re different tonight,” I say while leaning into him.

  “I am happy,” he replies, lips brushing against my ear, and I shiver. “Being home brings me a sense of peace I do not carry elsewhere. Well, perhaps I do, but only with you.”

  His words send me melting back into my own throne, nearly swooning at the smoothness. If I’m not careful, I’ll find myself in love with that man long before I’m ready for it. I know he’s a wordsmith, he must be for how much I’ve seen him with a book in his hands. It reminds me that I wanted to ask him for recommendations, but we’ve been so busy that I haven’t gotten the chance. And he still hasn’t given me my favorite book back.

  “How smooth of you,” I say once I’ve recovered.

  He laughs. “Ah, are my charms wearing off?”

  “Not quite,” I quip, a blush fanning my cheeks.

  He moves away to sit up straight in his throne, and my chest aches with his absence. Jeez, I have to get a hold of myself. Missing a man who’s less than a foot away? This curse is definitely messing with my head. Even after hearing their heartbreaking story from this morning I still want to break the curse before falling in love with these men. I need it to be real. No what ifs, no uncertainty. That’s the only way that I’ll truly let go and cement this bond we seem to have. Even if it’s possible that once the curse is broken. . . we won’t feel it any longer. But I’ll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.

  Instead of dwelling on it, I stand, giving Raph one more kiss on the cheek for good measure, and then dive into the crowd. Jade and Carden are there to sweep me forward, swirling me around and around in circles. Three songs and two drinks in, the lords join us, pulling me into their arms. The music pulses against me, bass rattling my bones and the guitar rift soothing my soul. And I’m laughing as I twirl, sweat beading along my forehead as my skirts swirl around us. The lords bounce me from chest to chest, reveling in my happiness, seemingly drinking it in as if it can sustain them just as much as my blood does.

  “You are so beautiful, Blair,” Michael whispers in my ear as I lean back into his chest, grinning from ear to ear.

  “As are you,” I reply, tilting my head for a kiss.

  He obliges, deepening it when I nip at his bottom lip. My body goes liquid against him, but he holds me up with one arm around my middle, the other wrapped around my chest. I moan into him, and he answers with a growl before I’m ripped away and into Raph’s arms. He too, kisses me, and when my toes curl within my heels I can’t bring myself to care that there’s hundreds of people, of vampires, watching us. Deciding to be a little bit mischievous myself, I spin away, grinning wickedly at the look on his face. When he sees my expression, his answering grin is so devilish that my core throbs in answer.

  I turn and make my way through the crowd, not quite running, but not a leisurely pace either. The lords stalk me through the crowd, watching my every move, and a thrill rushes around my chest. My grin grows when I burst through the other side, kicking off my shoes to pick up speed knowing that they’re nearly upon me. There aren’t many places to hide, so I pick the first one I see, two double doors that lead out back into the garden. Once I’m in the fresh air I press my back to the outer wall, taking in deep breaths to calm my rushing heart.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the curse, or something else entirely, but it’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun. I push off of the wall and am about to peek back into the hall when two arms hook around me from behind, pulling me into their chest. I squeal in glee at first, enjoying our game of cat and mouse. Until I realize that the chest I’m pressed against is soft. A woman’s chest.

  I go ridged against them as they drag me deeper into the garden, nails digging into my arms. Even after making my body dead weight, the woman has no problem carrying me, letting me know that she’s a vampire. I buck wildly against the woman, squeezing my eyes shut and opening my mouth to shout for my lords. Before I can, her hand clamps over it, silencing me. Her grip is too strong, too overpowering. There’s no way that I’m going to break free, so I go boneless again instead in an attempt to slow her down. Hopefully, the lords will soon realize that our game isn’t a game anymore and rush to find me.

  “Let me go or you’ll regret it!” I scream into her hand, voice muffled.

  She laughs, and I recognize it. My blood goes cold when I look down to confirm my suspicion. The woman’s dress is silver, the same one I saw Melisandre wearing when I came down the stairs earlier this evening. My head swirls with the effects of alcohol, reeling, and it makes it harder to form a coherent thought. I scratch my nails against her arms, leaving bloodied, raised welts behind, but she doesn’t even flinch. It sends despair through my chest, and tears begin to leak from my eyes. I’m no match for a vampire.

  “Where are we going?” I cry.

  She doesn’t respond as she drags me along. We move forward for a while, the only sounds around us are that of the crickets and the howling wind. I’m about to shout at her again when she pauses in front of the barn door of the stable, kicking it open with one leg. The door slams into the far wall, causing the horses to kick up and screech their fear. I struggle against Melisandre with renewed vigor, trying and failing to get away. As if done with me, she throws me to the concrete. I slam against it, rolling while cradling the elbow that first hit the ground as pain lances through it.

  “I think you broke my arm!” I wail.

  Melisandre smirks as she comes to crouch in front of me, grabbing a fist full of hair. “You’ve been a good girl, Blair, you know that?”

  I struggle against her until she yanks my head upward, forcing a whimper out of me. “What do you mean?” I nearly hiss, proud of myself when my voice comes out even.

  “You’re the first woman in five hundred years to make it to the second coven without the bond firmly set. I couldn’t take you at Michael’s castle. You still hated them, craved them, yes, but hated them all the same. For this to work, love must be blooming in your heart for my dear lords.”

  Melisandre looks on, the grip on my hair loosening, her gaze near crazed with longing and passion. I didn’t know that she still loved the lords, or maybe learned to love them again after all these years. But it appears to have morphed into something different, something less like love and more like obsession. While her eyes are glassy and far away, I take stock of my surroundings, trying to identify a weapon or a means to get away. The far doors leading to the fenced in pasture are open, and two bareback horses are grazing. If I can get to one, maybe I can jump or break through the fence to get away.

  “For what to work?” I whisper as I gather my legs beneath me, readying to make a break for it while she’s distracted.

  “What I told you about at the last party, you imbecile. I must drain your blood to break the curse. The first woman for the last, it’s perfect,” she murmurs, leaning forward to graze her canines against my throat.

  I shiver in fear, limbs nearly shaking with it. “Wait! How are you so sure? The lords told me the first woman was killed, they killed her. You’re technically the second.”

  Melisandre pauses, pulling away from my throat. “You lie,” she hisses, yanking my hair so hard that she nearly rips it from my scalp.

  I look wildly toward the horses again, hoping beyond hope that she’ll give me the opening I need. What should I say to make her let go? To make her give me an ounce of trust? This woman is crazy, so reasoning with her using logic is totally out of the question. She won’t believe anything I say. Perhaps playing along would allow me a moment’s reprieve before she sinks her teeth into my throat.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, wincing when she ropes my hair around one fist. “I want to break the curse too, you’re right, I am beginning to love them, to cherish them.”

  I figured that mixing the truth with part of a lie would make my statement more believable, and I was right. Her grip loosens and she stands up, pacing. My legs are still gathered beneath me, ready to spring forward and run for my life. But I hesitate
as I was her, the lithe muscles in her body shifting as she paces. A vampire is most certainly faster than a human, and stronger. What makes me think that I could beat her out to the horses before she yanks me back into the barn? Especially while I’m wearing this massive, now filthy, ball gown.

  A nervous sweat breaks out across my brow as I look from the open doors to the pasture and back to Melisandre. Will she run faster than me? Can I take the chance? Yes, a voice nearly screams in my head. Run! Without thinking anymore, I surge to my feet, lift my skirts, and sprint as fast as I can toward the nearest horse. Melisandre screeches in rage behind me, following. I don’t dare look back in case I lose my nerve or my footing. But I can feel her gaining, feeling the pulsing magic that a vampire is made of come closer and closer to my back.

  “You can’t outrun me you bitch!” Melisandre screams seemingly no longer worried about staying silent.

  As if that was a beacon, I hear shouting from around the front of the building, and racing footsteps. People are coming to help me, to stop her, but I can’t take the chance that if I stop fighting or running, that she won’t just bite me before they arrive. So I force my legs to go faster, to fly across the soft grass toward a massive stallion that’s now looking back at me with eerie recognition in it’s honey gold eyes.

  “Blair!” Michael shouts, voice full of unimaginable fear. It sends a pang through my chest to hear him, but I don’t stop running, I don't stop fighting for myself.

  As soon as I think I’m close enough to make it, I leap forward, slamming onto the horses back. It rears, huffing in protest as I slap its bottom, urging it along. The stallion, Gabriel’s stallion, I realize, takes off. My body bounces precariously on its back as I try to get purchase, gripping the horse's mane and dragging myself into a sitting position. Melisandre’s scream of pure rage follows me, echoing off the barn and back out across the plain. A shiver of fear arcs through my chest, and I lean forward to wrap my arms around Forza’s neck. He throws his head as if trying to shake me off before leaping straight up and over the fence, easily clearing it.

  I scream when my body flies up and slams sideways back onto the horse’s back, nearly sliding off. The only thing that saves me is my iron grip around the stallion’s thick neck. We’re flying across the field behind the castle now, the stained glass windows shining ruby and emerald light to arc out across the tall grass. For a moment, I don’t hear Melisandre pursuing me any longer, and I hope that she has been left far behind. I loosen my grip on Forza to sit up. We’re nearing the tree line, and I know exactly where he’s headed. The lake. I look around frantically, unable to detect movement or see the woman chasing me, and I hope going into the woods is a perfect way to lose her.

  “Blair! Come back, it’s not safe!” Gabriel yells, his voice booming across the field as if he’s a god.

  I try to grip Forza’s mane, to turn him around, but it’s too late and he refuses to stop. We leap into the dark woods, shadows cloaking us and wrapping around me to hide me from view.

  Chapter Seven

  I’m gasping for air by the time Forza slows down in front of a familiar sparkling body of water. The moon is full above us, giving me plenty of light to see as I slide off his back and fall to my knees, legs shaking. I’ve never ridden bareback before, and it was surprisingly hard to stay on. My legs had to grip his sides incredibly hard and for so long that they had gone numb. Same for my arms, as I had held his neck so tightly that I have no feeling left as I crawl toward the lake, willing to drink from it if only to wet my dry throat. The horse whines from above me, throwing his head and stomping his feet, eyes focused on my shaking body. I come up for air after drinking my fill, gasping.

  “It’s alright, Forza, you saved me,” I croak.

  “Not quite, my dear,” a feminine voice purrs.

  This one is different from Melisandre’s, deeper, and full of malice. I turn toward the source but can see only shadow near the edge of the tree line. A shiver runs down my spine and I back into Forza’s broad flank, pulling strength from him. I had escaped one demon only to fall into the hands of another, I suspect, more deadly one.

  “Who are you?” I call.

  “Poor Melisandre was right, you know,” the voice replies, ignoring my question. “It takes your blood to be consumed by the first of us to break the curse.”

  Something hits the ground and rolls until coming to a stop a few feet away. A trail of wet splotches had been left in its wake, sending a rush of fear through me as I step forward to look more closely. I bring both hands up to cover my mouth, screaming into them, horrified. My entire body trembles as I stumble away from Melisandre’s severed head. The skin of her neck is ripped and jagged, her mouth open in a scream of either pain or horror. Whoever is out there, studying me, ripped her head off her body, killing her.

  “Who are you?” I say again, nearly sobbing now.

  A whip of wind blows my hair back, and a tall, impossibly beautiful woman is suddenly in front of me. She has midnight hair so long that it nearly touches the back of her knees, and matching deep brown, nearly black, eyes. Her porcelain skin glows in the moonlight, making her look like a goddess incarnate. Our gazes lock, and the moment they do, I feel vampire magic assaulting my senses. It merely bounces away at first as all vampire magic does to me, but the longer she looks, the more my personal shield is chipped away bit by bit. I try to tear my gaze away and fail to do so, body shaking with terror. The only other beings I’ve met with this much power are my lords, and that tells me immediately who this woman is.

  She is the first woman they ever took our golden blood from, the one they believed they had killed.

  “Yes,” the woman nearly hisses. “Did they tell you my name? Do they even remember?” I shake my head, too afraid to speak as her long fingers curl into my hair and pull me closer to her.

  “You’re special, you know. The first woman since myself to resist glamour, to resist the curse as easily as to last past the first month and into another. I’m not sure you know how truly strong you are,” she whispers, lips pressed against my ear. “You were meant to become a vampire, my dear, and I shall grant you that gift.”

  Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall, gritting my teeth. “No, I don’t want to forget them. I don’t want to become a vampire.”

  The woman laughs, stepping away from me to circle my body instead. I try to move, to flee, but my muscles have gone rigid and still. Her alluring magic has completely ensnared me, leaving me prone and ready for whatever she has in store. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life, and a scream of frustration leaves my lips as I try and fail to move even a finger. She watches, eyes wide with excitement, her lips tilting into a cunning smile.

  “Even now, you resist me, nearly break free of me, and I cannot touch your mind. It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” She asks, rushing forward to grip my chin between two bruising fingers. “To have free will? You do not know just how lucky you are.”

  “You’re talking about it like it’s difficult to resist a vampire's charms,” I spit, still struggling in vain to escape her magic.

  She laughs, and it’s a manic, almost grating sound. “You know absolutely nothing about us, do you? Our powers of coercion helped the first of our lord's bloodline rise to power. Humans cannot resist us, we can control them on a whim, and then erase their memory of it immediately after. So you being able to resist is a trait most mortal men would die for,” she pauses, leaning in to lick a hot trail up my neck. “Probably kill for.”

  My blood chills at her words, and I try in vain to jerk away from the probing iciness of her tongue. Nothing has ever felt so wrong on my skin, so cold. Every time she touches me a chill sweeps down my body. Is she starving? How long has she gone without blood?

  “Nearly three hundred and sixty five days,” she croaks, eyes gleaming. “I had to cleanse myself of filthy blood so that all that will run through my veins is you.”

  The next thing I know, her fangs are in m
y neck, and she’s drinking from me. I cry out, pain lashing through me like acid in my veins. This feels nothing like when the lords took my blood, that was a little bit of pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure. This is stinging, agonizing pain. Another scream tears from my throat, ringing out into the night. The woman pulls me closer, almost into a lover's embrace as my stiff body swoons against her. Feeling comes back into my limbs as the alluring magic lifts, but by that time I’m too weak from blood loss to move much. The most I can do is shove weakly against her chest, moaning in pain.

  It does almost nothing, and the creeping darkness on the edge of my vision scares me to the bone. I know with finality that if that darkness overwhelms me, I’ll be dead. She will have drained my body completely, and I’ll rise again as something and someone I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t know the four men I’ve come to. . . love. A sob chokes me, and I cry out again, this time in despair. I never told them that I love them, I was too afraid, too untrusting. It feels so stupid now that death is hovering nearby.

  “Please,” I moan, gripping her arms so tightly that my fingers are numb.

  The moan pulls her canines out of my throat and begins to smooth back my hair, cooing softly, “Do not worry, little lamb. I have taken your blood, and soon you will die and be reborn with more strength than imaginable. You will truly be worthy of becoming a vampire queen.”

  I shiver in her arms, the inky blackness shifting closer with each passing second. It feels like the temperature has dropped several degrees in the span of minutes, but a distant part of myself, the logical part, knows that it’s because I’m dying. But right now, in this moment, all I can think about is the little moments I’ve had with the lords. The tiny pieces of happiness that I’ll lose once the human part of me dies.

  Horse riding with Raph, hair flying and laughter riding on the wind.