House of Kings (House of Royals Book 3)

by Keary Taylor

  I should have known he would leave.

  But I didn’t.

  “I’ve seen the way Raheem looks at you,” she says quietly. “He’s careful. But not careful enough. The way you wanted Ian to love you, Raheem already does.”

  I slow. The statement rolls around in my head, over and over.

  I know this. I know Raheem’s feelings. I see it in his eyes every day.

  “You’re going to get him killed, aren’t you?” Danielle asks. I don’t answer her—because I’m so very afraid it’s the truth. “Do you love him? Because if he’s going to die for his love for you, I hope you feel the same way.”

  I whirl around on her, my eyes instantly flaring. “Just stop,” I bark. “It’s none of your business. You’ll never bring this up again, you understand me? Raheem. Ian. My feelings or anything related to relationships. I don’t want to hear another word.”

  She shirks back a step, her eyes growing wide with fear for a moment. But it doesn’t last long. Her expression narrows and hardens. “You got it, master. I won’t try to be your friend again.”

  She stalks ahead of me, headed back to the House. And I’m left alone in the snow with a million emotions I thought I’d buried.

  “I’VE INVITED THE HOUSE IN Vermont to attend a party the night after tomorrow.”

  Cyrus stands in my bedroom. His trousers hang low on his hips. His feet are bare, as is his chest. The muscles in his chest stand out in deep contrast with the shadows the fireplace casts.

  He looks beautiful standing there. Dangerous. Fierce and seductive.

  I walk toward him, dropping my coat on the floor by the door. The darkness creeps up inside me, whispering to my hurting insides to do some hurting in return. There must be balance. Checks and equalization. An eye for an eye, pain for pain.

  A little bit of my humanity has been dying every day since I’ve Resurrected, and I don’t know if any more of it remains.

  “Whatever you wish, my King,” I say low and seductive as I cross the space slowly. The heat from the fireplace warms my skin as I approach him. He’s cast in silhouette, a dark figure before the flames. “I look forward to meeting more of my Royal cousins.”

  I stop before him, just a few inches away. His dark eyes trace my body, running from my tight jeans, up over my hips. They linger on my breasts, my curves exposed by my low neckline. They slide up my neck.

  And I touch the tips of two of my fingers against his lower abdomen. Slowly, so very slowly, I let them slide up between the valley of his stomach muscles. They twitch and quiver with need at my touch.

  “I think I dreamed of castles last night,” I breathe into his ear as I lean into the King. My lips hover just a fraction of an inch from his neck. “Of grand ballrooms and blood. Of death and life.”

  “You did?” Cyrus breathes as he wraps his hands around my waist. His own lips linger on my collarbone.

  “Perhaps,” I say as I press my lips to the hollow beneath his ear. I let them part ever so slightly as I drag them down, toward his shoulder. His fingers clamp harder into my sides. His body jumps to life, shaking and quivering in need. “It’s hard to be sure. The dream was so fuzzy.”

  “We did not settle in Roter Himmel until ten years after our son was born,” he says as he runs one hand up my back, pulling at my sweater. It rips, a quick tearing sound cutting through the otherwise silent room. “The castle was abandoned, the town burned to the ground.”

  His fingers search my exposed skin, his touch rough and demanding. I place my hand flat against his stomach, pressing myself closer into him. The breath hitches in his throat.

  “You worked tirelessly,” I say, switching to the other side of his neck, just barely brushing my lips over his flesh. “You made it a home for our family.”

  “Yes,” he breathes. I look up to see his eyes slide closed. The ecstasy is clear on his face. “Our son, he nearly froze to death that first winter. But we made it through.”

  “Together,” I say. I bring both of my hands to his chest, clinging hard.

  “Yes,” he whispers. His eyes slide open and bore into mine. His hands come to my arms, clinging tight. “Sevan? Have you come back to me?”

  This is such a dangerous game I play. But I need it. I crave it. Because this is who I am now.

  “I don’t know,” I say, putting a little quiver into my voice. “I’m so confused about everything that is happening.”

  The emotion on Cyrus’ face comes flooding through. He gathers me into his arms, pulling me tight, cradling my head against his chest. “Everything will be alright, my love. We will get through this. Together.”

  A small smile curls on my lips as I look into the flames.

  The King is not the only one who can play games to heal emotional scars.

  SOMEONE KNOCKS ON THE DOOR to my bedroom just as Lillian puts the finishing touches on my dress. “I’ll get that,” she says as she gives me one last admiring smile before walking to the door.

  The gown is all black, falling from my waist in tiers. The neckline plunges low, so low it nearly reaches my bellybutton, exposing my cleavage. It stretches over my back, coming into a high collar that flares around my neck in a dramatic, old-world collar. My hair is styled into a complicated twist at the back of my neck, my crown sitting atop my head.

  I look like the dark queen I pretend to be.

  “You look quite stunning, I must say, Alivia.”

  I turn to see Christian step into my bedroom. Lillian offers me a little smile, before sliding out the door and closing it behind her.

  “I appreciate you saying that,” I offer, stepping into the bedroom from the immaculate bathroom. I slip into my heels, instantly growing four inches. “And I appreciate you being here.”

  Christian’s face turns serious and his eyes drop away from mine as he takes two more steps forward. “I didn’t really come back for you,” he says honestly. “Not at first, anyway.” He sits on the edge of my bed, and for a moment, I bristle at that. This is my space, not his.

  “It was a lot harder than I expected,” he says. He laces his fingers together, staring at them. “Being away from my brother. We’ve been together for over seventy years. A lifetime for humans. When you and Jasmine went to war, I didn’t know how to feel.” Finally, he looks up at me. That crooked, womanizing smile begins pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You swept into town and changed everything I had ever known. You had the blood of a Royal, but you knew nothing about our town. About our history. About being a ruler or even about being a damn vampire.”

  He offers a mournful, little smile. He releases his hands, placing them on his thighs and sits there, looking very uncomfortable. “I didn’t think you knew what the hell you were doing, that my brother was a traitor for turning away from the House our father lead for over a century.”

  He looks away again, and I realize just how very hard this is for him. “But then Jasmine didn’t look too much like a leader anymore, either. She was rash. Crazy. She couldn’t protect her own. And she just kept getting worse and worse. So when the shit hit the fan and suddenly I had to make a choice, I chose not to make one. I’ve been out there on my own, living like Anna did for a really, really long time.”

  When he says Anna’s name, there’s regret in his voice. It’s been obvious Anna has history with both the Kask brothers, but it’s never been my place to ask what happened. That’s her past and she owns it.

  “Lillian found me. Told me how happy Samuel was being a part of your House. How happy she was. How you knew what you were doing.” Christian looks up at me, his eyes open and ready for my judgment. “I didn’t really believe her. But I had to see, you know? I had to give myself some confirmation of what I thought before, that there was no way you could be a good leader, when you were such an…ignorant, uninformed infant.”

  That stings a little bit. Because there’s confession of truth in his words. It’s what he truly thought of me.

  “So, I came back with Lillian. I told her that I was
just going to see what was going on. That I made no promises that I would join your House, even though she told me that was her mission.” Samuel stands up once again and takes three steps toward me. “But we came back. I heard the fight that was going on. And I watched as you begged for Jasmine’s life. And I heard all the terrible things she did to you. And, you asked for a second chance for her anyway.”

  Christian takes one more step toward me, and then he drops to one knee. He bows his head just slightly. “I was wrong, Alivia. You were indeed born to lead this House. You’re a ruler, a true Royal. And if you will have me, I will follow you.”

  I reach down and take one of his hands in mine. Christian looks up at me expectantly. “Your words mean everything,” I say, my expression open and true. “Because you know. You are the son of a good man who did his best. You know. And, I swear to you, I will do my best.”

  He nods. “I know you will.”

  “Welcome to the House of Conrath.”

  Christian stands, holding my eyes the entire time. The weight and loyalty behind his eyes is present, heavy.

  “Let’s get to this party, shall we?” I ask as I allow a smile to begin forming on my face.

  Christian offers his arm, and I loop mine through his. My heels click over the hardwood floor, and he opens the door to let us both out.

  Music and voices float up to the second floor. There are people everywhere—in the hall, in bedrooms. Down the stairs, couples are scattered about. Everyone is dressed in their best.

  My arm still looped through Christian’s, we make our way down the stairs. And the scent of human blood grows stronger and stronger with each step.

  The fire leaps into my throat, quickly spreading through my body like a match set to a dry field.

  The ballroom is crowded. The foyer is packed to the brim. People wander in and out of the library. The halls house many groups.

  But even with the mass numbers, I hone in on the humans like they are a bloody beacon. The woman in the black cocktail dress. The twin men in their suits. Three younger-looking teenagers.

  They’re scattered about the house. Fangs sink into necks. Vampires chat with them, laughter at unknown conversations.

  I don’t recognize any of them.

  “The House of Allaway brought their own snacks to share with everyone as a gift,” Christian offers.

  The burn in my throat leaps to life once more. It shoots throughout my body like a flame set to a puddle of gasoline.

  I grab for the woman chatting with a group of vampires I do not recognize and my fangs sink into her neck. Two pulls, three. The woman doesn’t move, and a blissful moan bubbles up from my throat.

  “I’m sure she is tasty,” Christian says. And suddenly, he’s pulling her away from me. “But we must leave enough to share.”

  I snap back to myself, my fangs retracting. I let the woman go, and she stumbles back to the others in a daze. I blink the blood haze from my eyes and look around. The other vampires look at me with slightly disgusted expressions.

  “Forgive me,” I say, offering a small smile. “I guess it’s been a few too many days since I last fed.”

  A man offers a smile, breaking the tension. “No worries, my Lady. We’ve all been there. Some of are still there.”

  I smile once again and shuffle off with Christian, who offers me a handkerchief. I wipe at my mouth, clearing away the mess.

  “How long until I get this under control?” I ask. “I can’t keep snapping like this.”

  “Usually about three weeks,” he says as we stop among the crowd. He takes the cloth from me and clears away the rest of the blood himself. “How long has it been?”

  “Almost two and a half weeks,” I say, offering him an appreciative smile as he finishes.

  Christian nods. “It will be over soon. And then, you’ll only need to feed once a week or so, just like the rest of us. You’ll get through it.”

  “There she is!”

  The commanding voice booms behind us. We both turn to see Cyrus walking toward us. Flanked at his side are a man and a woman.

  “Chelsea, Charles,” Cyrus says as he walks to my side, dismissing Christian. He loops an arm around my waist. I notice our outfits match. He wears black trousers and a black jacket that looks fit for the King he is. His collar is high and regal, just like mine. “I would like to introduce you to the lovely Alivia Conrath.”

  I flash my most brilliant smile and step forward to shake the woman’s hand first. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  “And you as well,” Charles says as I shake his hand next. He brings my hand up to his lips, where he presses a kiss there.

  “Chelsea and Charles lead the House in Vermont, covering the surrounding region,” Cyrus says. His voice is loud, excited. He’s fit for a party such as this one. It is the second one he’s thrown since his arrival, after all. “They came into leadership after their mother was assassinated a few years ago.”

  “Thirty-five years isn’t exactly just a few,” Chelsea chuckles, eying the King with a flirtatious eye. Her hair is brilliant red, as is her twin brother’s. They look so alike in so many ways, they can’t be anything but twins. Even the crowns on their heads are identical.

  “It is in my immortal life, my dear,” Cyrus says, flashing her a daring smile and taking a tiny little bow.

  “We’ve done our best since,” Charles offers with a smile of his own.

  This all seems so fake, all for show. And it’s making me want to crawl out of my own skin.

  “I am sorry to hear about your poor mother,” I say, ending the joking and banter.

  “Oh, don’t be,” Charles says with a little flick of his wrist. “It was Chelsea that killed her. Our mother was nothing more than a womb and an educator. She served her purpose.”

  Well, that’s horrifying. “Ah,” I say instead, as if it doesn’t truly unsettle me. I would give anything to have even just one more day with my own mother, and these two threw theirs away as if she was nothing.

  “It only took us three days to determine Chelsea here was not Sevan,” Cyrus says. His smile grows thin lipped.

  “I was far too murderous to possibly be Sevan,” she laughs.

  “I see,” I say, raising an eyebrow and chuckling falsely along with them. “And here we are, more than two weeks post-Resurrection, and Cyrus and I are still figuring things out.” I cling to Cyrus’ side, wrapping my hands around his bicep and looking up into his eyes lovingly.

  The reaction his body has to my game is instant. The look in his eyes grows hungry. His body twitches with desire. He leans into me closer.

  “Oo,” Chelsea coos. “This certainly looks like it has great potential.”

  “It certainly looks that way,” I say, letting a smile take over my face as I look back at her. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Some chardonnay for any of you?”

  A platter suddenly appears between our small group, loaded with thin fluted glasses filled with sparkling liquid. I look up to see Rath. He’s staring at me with something sharp like disapproval in his eyes.

  “Thank you!” Chelsea coos in delight as she takes a glass. She downs it in one gulp before taking another, just as Charles does, as well.

  “Your majesty?” Rath asks, his tone dropping lower. Cyrus takes a glass, studying Rath as he does. I decline the drink.

  “Thank you.” Cyrus takes one sip, eying Rath as he dismisses himself. “Chelsea, Charles, if you will give Alivia and me a few moments? We will join you again shortly.”

  “Of course,” Charles says, dipping his head and dragging his sister away.

  What a spastic pair.

  “They seem…interesting,” I say as I watch them make their way back into the crowd.

  “They’re both idiots,” Cyrus says as his eyes also follow them. “But there is no one yet in their line to replace them. And Charles won’t be producing any offspring anytime soon to pass the royal blood down to, if you know what I mean.”

  And I do. It’s obvio
us Charles prefers the company of males. Even now, his hand is on Samuel’s arm, and he laughs hysterically. Samuel looks ready to bolt.

  “Come with me,” Cyrus says. He gently takes my hand in his, and we slowly work our way through the crowd, across the ballroom. He opens the door to the veranda and we step outside into the dark and cold.

  “Have you experienced anything else?” Cyrus asks as he sets his glass on a snow covered side table. “In the past, once Sevan began to remember things, it started coming back more and more quickly.”

  I bring my hands up, lacing my fingers behind Cyrus’ neck. I bring our faces close together. His breath warms my chest. “Be patient with me, my King,” I say quietly. “Remembering multiple lifetimes will take time.”

  “Of course,” he says. His hands come up to caress my back, pulling me closer. His lips hover so close. I’m sure he’s going to kiss me.

  But he only presses his lips to my cheek, before stepping away, grabbing on of my hands, and standing on the edge of the veranda. He looks out into the darkness. Over the empty pool. Over the tiny graveyard. Over the river. “It’s quite a full house you have right now.”

  “It is indeed,” I agree, breathless. My heart hammers in wicked anticipation, and is suddenly let down because he didn’t take my bait. And I’m realizing just how sick I’ve become. “I admit it makes me afraid for Rath. Should someone mistake him for one of the feeders.”

  “Oh, I very much doubt that will happen.” He says it without looking at me. The breath billows out of him in a huge white cloud. “He’s such a unique being. I’ve never met another like him.”

  My heart skips a beat and I turn to face Cyrus, pulling him to face me. “What do you mean?” I ask, my voice bordering on desperate. “Do you know what Rath is?”

  Cyrus smiles. He brings his free hand up and brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Yes,” he says. “But it is not my story to tell.”

  I want to beg him—for him to tell me the answer I’ve wondered after for these past six months. But his words ring true, and I cannot betray Rath by begging his dark, unknown story from another.