Rebel Match (The Royale Vampire Heirs Book 3)

by Ginna Moran

Stomping from the wardrobe, I ignore their stares as I head to the bathroom. I splash water on my face and then grab a glass from the sink. I purse my lips, keeping my gaze on the floor, and head back to them, now all sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I hold the glass to Mikkalo. “If you want me to go out there, I need blood. It’s your time, so please fill up my glass.”

  “Gwen,” Jameson says. “Please. Let us—”

  I turn my attention to Jameson, and he closes his mouth. His eyes flash silver at me. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the gesture. Something in my eyes makes him nervous, because he bites his arm and extends it out to me.

  “No, Jamie. You don’t like to put it in the glass, and that’s how I want to drink it right now.” I try to keep my voice even, but my heart aches, my chest tightening. The quiver in my voice makes the three of them frown.

  “Gwen—”

  Mikkalo reaches out and flicks Jameson on the shoulder. “Don’t push her.”

  “She’s quite angry,” Everett adds.

  Biting his arm, Mikkalo fills the glass with his blood and hands it to me. I turn my back to hide from the weight of their stares. Taking a sip, I down the blood in a long swallow and set the glass on the middle of the carpet. I tighten my jaw with the wave of warmth washing through me.

  I head to the door and stand until Mikkalo checks the hallway. “Don’t be afraid to celebrate because of me. At least someone should enjoy themselves.”

  None of them responds to my comment.

  I let Mikkalo lead the way in silence. The stroll down the hallway feels like a death march.

  If only it didn’t feel like mine.

  Chapter 13

  Party Crasher

  “YOU’RE A BLOOD MATCH, TOO?” A young guy in a white tuxedo slides up next to me as I shovel another bread roll in my mouth.

  “That obvious?” I ask, covering my mouth with my hand. I swing the hem of my gown back and forth, sweeping the floor.

  He chuckles. “Fortunately, white looks beautiful on you.”

  A soft growl sounds from where Mikkalo hovers. I keep my gaze trained on the floor, not even bothering to look at the guy. I can feel a dozen gazes on me, but the most intense of all burns over me from Bronx’s place talking to Brentwood. I haven’t acknowledged him at all, or anyone for that matter, except for now with one of the only humans not lying on a table as a blood source.

  “Be careful what you say,” I murmur. “Someone might think you’re flirting with me.”

  “I don’t give a damn. Let them. If my Blood Match fails to protect me, I get automatic exemption status.” The guy bumps his shoulder to mine.

  I jerk my head up and meet his gaze with wide eyes. Mikkalo materializes a few feet closer. It’s one thing about how they react to other vampires, but I can feel the tension between me and my guys so intensely that I worry.

  “You can’t get exemption if you’re dead.” I step a foot away. “And I don’t want to be responsible for such a thing.”

  “You could always intervene. I’ll help you. You help me.” Shifting his feet, he tries to close the space again. “Don’t you want to reunite with your family?”

  “No,” I say, lowering my voice. “Even if I did, I couldn’t. I’m not a volunteer.”

  The guy lifts a brow like he doesn’t believe me. And why would he? I had no idea that a forced entry to the Blood Match Program was possible. Donor Life Corp would probably never make that information available to the general donor population. It’s supposed to be some great program.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Gwen.” Mikkalo strolls up to me and puts his hand on my lower back. He doesn’t acknowledge the guy at all. “Bronx would like you to join him.”

  We both know he’s full of crap. If Bronx wanted me to join him, I’d have heard him ask. All he does is continue to discuss his strategy to split up the two areas without any complete divisions, keeping human families together. At least that’s something.

  I peer at the guy from over my shoulder. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Gwen. If you ever change your mind, I’m sure we’ll see each other at some other party. The Dukes love a great gathering,” the guy says.

  Mikkalo nudges me away from the guy, guiding me to the other side of the room. He doesn’t say a word to me as I plop into a chair at a table with a guy in a speedo sitting on it cross-legged. He greets me with a smile, and I force one back, feeling awkward as hell. Bite scars pepper his body with a couple of fresh ones from this evening. I’ve heard of donor buffets, but I never imagined them to be like this or that the humans participating might actually enjoy it. Some of the people even dance with a few of the vampires.

  “You’re new to exclusive donations, aren’t you?” he asks, swiveling on the table to face me. I really wish he hadn’t. From my position, his bulge points right at me from his speedo. “May I offer your mister a taste? He looks rather hungry.”

  I can’t control my glower. “No, you may not. He’s mine.”

  Mikkalo releases a strange, sexy noise from his throat. I flick my gaze to his, and I can see him struggling to hide his smile. It makes it hard for me to control my own, which annoys me more. I’m supposed to be mad at him. I am mad at him.

  I burn daggers at him and turn away, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “And right now, I want him to starve.”

  “Makes for more fun later, huh?” the guy asks.

  “They wish.”

  That gets a groan out of Jameson. I can’t stop the smug-ass grin from crossing my mouth, which I quickly hide with my hand. The guy studies me for a long, awkward moment. I clear my throat and swivel in my chair to glance at the rest of the party.

  “My name’s Howie, by the way.” The guy stretches his legs, getting them uncomfortably close to me.

  I bob my head. “Gwen.”

  “I’d offer you a compliment, but I’m nearly certain I’d meet my final donation,” Howie says.

  “I highly doubt it.”

  “So does your mister treat you well?” Howie scoots forward and hangs his legs off the side of the table.

  “Yes. What about you?” I dart my gaze to Mikkalo, but he doesn’t look at me. Having to make small talk with Howie feels like some sort of punishment. All I want is to go back to the food table and shove more rolls into my mouth.

  “This job is a dream. My family only has to make half the usual gen. pop. donations. We get a large apartment in the city. And the best part? I only have to work once every six weeks, if you can even call this work. All the food I can eat, socializing, good music.” To prove his point, he slides off the table and gets to his feet. Howie starts dancing right in front of me, not giving a shit about anyone or anything around him. He wiggles his hand out to me. “Come on, Gwen. You should dance with me.”

  I shake my head. “No way. I don’t feel like it.”

  Howie wags his finger. “Oh, come on. You look bored as hell. Just one song.”

  Sighing, I push to my feet. Howie’s right. I am bored as all get-out, annoyed with the entire night, and can’t stop thinking about how my guys purposely disregarded my feelings toward Corona. How Bronx stakes a claim on me.

  I start slow, swaying my hips. With my heels and dress, I can’t move like I want to, so I hike up my dress a bit and lift my foot onto the chair. I don’t get a chance to unbuckle the strap before Mikkalo does it for me. Neither of us says anything to each other. Howie claps his hands and shakes his ass. A laugh bubbles from my throat. I’ve never seen anyone move like him before, and it’s both amazing and hysterical.

  So I copy him.

  I’m pretty sure I look dumb as hell, but he was totally right about needing some entertainment. A part of me is upset that I’m dancing with this dude instead of my guys, because I hate feeling this way. Yet another petty as fuck part of me hopes they wish they were the ones dancing with me. I want them to realize that they can’t just assume they can do things and hope that I forg
ive them after the fact. And this bullshit Corona invite? I don’t care if it was to show unity. It feels far too legit. I could’ve used a warning instead of getting thrown off guard.

  “I can’t stand this any longer,” Jameson says. “I’m risking it. I need to be all up in our girl’s space.”

  I spin around, sending my hair flying out. I catch Everett grabbing Jameson by the shoulder to stop him from coming to me.

  “Don’t do it, brother. This is the first time I’ve heard her laugh all night. She needs space, and you need to respect that no matter how hard it is.” Everett keeps his gaze trained on me, though I try obviously not to stare at the two of them. “Plus, it’s better to wait until she’s done. Dancing is proven to put her in a better mood.”

  “But—”

  “As her health keeper, I insist,” Everett says.

  Jameson growls at him and skulks past me to the other side of the dance floor. The sneaky bastard keeps his eyes on me the whole time and starts dancing with a small blend of vampires and the table donors. He dares me with his green eyes to try to resist joining him, so I guarantee it and turn my back.

  “Damn it, Gigi. I hate this.” Jameson ignores Everett’s warning and grabs my hand to spin me toward him. “We need to talk about this bullshit. Now.”

  My throat tightens at his comment, and I stop dancing. “I can’t.”

  He leans in, getting close to my ear so that no one overhears him. “I don’t like you when you’re angry at me.”

  I stiffen. “And I don’t like you when you keep fucking secrets from me, Jameson, especially in regards to the asshole who not only took me away from you and imprisoned me but also killed Kyler and separated my brothers.”

  “Gwen, you have to—”

  I pull away from him. “I don’t have to do anything right now.” My emotions get the best of me, and a heavy pit forms in my chest and sinks into my stomach. I never knew this kind of anger and hurt could make me feel physically sick. Turning to Everett, I meet his eyes. “I don’t feel so good. Please take me back to the room.”

  “I’ll take you, Gwen,” Mikkalo says. “You don’t have to pretend to be sick. We’ve been here long enough.”

  My head starts to pound, and I wobble on my feet. “I’m not pretending. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Everett materializes in front of me and touches my face. “Why don’t you feel good?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, a dizzy spell competing with my sudden headache. “I—” Closing my eyes, I wait for my head to stop spinning. My stomach lurches, and I cover my mouth with my hand. A cool glass touches my lips, and Everett’s sweet blood tantalizes my senses.

  “Hey, Gwen? Can you open your eyes and look at me?” Everett’s gentle hand touches my cheek.

  I flutter my eyelids open, realizing we’re no longer at the party. “What happened?”

  Everett shines a light in my eyes. “You fainted.”

  “How long have I been out?” I ask, my throat burning. My voice comes out hoarse like I might have screamed.

  “Maybe thirty seconds.” Everett tilts my head up and offers me the glass of blood again. “Do you still feel bad?”

  I purse my lips without drinking and nudge his hand away. “Can I have some water instead?”

  He studies my eyes for a second. “I’d like you to drink my blood first. You didn’t drink very much of Mikkalo’s before the party.”

  “But I don’t need blood. I need water. Something solid to eat.”

  “Dandelion, stop arguing with your health keeper.” Bronx’s voice cuts through the quiet room, and I jerk upright and spot him standing with Mikkalo and Jameson next to the door.

  My head spins again from the fast movement, and I flop back. “You don’t all need to be here. Go back and enjoy your celebration.”

  “You’re our girl. We’re not going anywhere until we’re sure you’re okay,” Bronx says, strolling closer to look down on me.

  I glower at him, and he takes an automatic step back. “Are you sure I’m not just your girl?”

  Bronx laces his hands on the back of his head, messing with his hair. Staring up at the ceiling, he blinks a few times, his jaw shifting. Every muscle on his body tightens. As each second passes, he steels himself a little more. All of the softness he carries toward me hardens, and he finally turns his gaze back to me. The heavy silence presses so hard into me that it feels as if the weight of the entire universe crushes me, breaking each bone in my body while liquefying my heart.

  “I know you know that I only said that to get the city leaders to back off,” Bronx says, tightening his mouth. “You can’t hold that against me. Any of my brothers would have said the same thing if they were in my position. Right, brothers?”

  I huff a breath. “Don’t ask them to take your side.”

  “I’m not!” Bronx shouts, flashing his fangs at me.

  Mikkalo pulls Bronx back, and they growl at each other. “Don’t yell at her. Just fucking apologize and make up. You’ve ruined my night with Gwen enough already.”

  Bronx fists his hands. “I have nothing to apologize for. I did what I had to do, and I would do it again, all right? Gwen knows she comes first to me. Everything I do is for our coven and too fucking bad if she doesn’t always like it.”

  “Wow.” I can’t stop the word from escaping my mouth. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Bronx sighs. “Gwen, come on. You’re being unfair.”

  I shake my head and slide off the counter Everett had put me on. It’s now that I realize we’re in a kitchen, probably where the human staff prepares everything for the other humans on the estate.

  Without responding to Bronx, I turn to Everett. “Please take me back to the room. I’m still not feeling so great. Maybe it was something I ate. This is just a bit too much right now.”

  “Want me to get you anything, Gwen?” Jameson asks.

  “No, thank you, Jameson. I’m just going to rest.”

  Bronx blocks the door out. “You can’t just fake sick and leave. We’re not done talking.”

  Everett surprises me by getting into Bronx’s face. He flashes his fangs and grips onto the front of his dress shirt. “You’re not her fucking health keeper. If she says she doesn’t feel well, I believe her. She passed out. Her normal flush has yet to return. And honestly, you’re making it worse. So get out of our way. If she’s feeling better by the start of your time, you can work your shit out then. If not, then too bad.”

  Bronx flares his nostrils and raises his hands in surrender, letting us past him. Picking me up, Everett cradles me like the bride I’m dressed as. We don’t even get a foot away from the door before Bronx, Mikkalo, and Jameson start shouting at each other. I’ve never heard any of them so angry, and I hate I’m the reason. I hate that I can’t just suck it up and let it go.

  Everett carries me at a human’s speed in silence. I rest my head on his shoulder and just listen to the muffled party noises trickling through the hallway. On and off, Everett glances at me, his expressionless face sometimes breaking its mask with a pout. But he’s quick to clench his jaw every time it tries to betray him.

  “Gwen,” he whispers, his voice barely a breath tickling my ear. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I’m an asshole for ever agreeing to the union. It wasn’t all Bronx’s decision to keep that official announcement from you.”

  I inhale a shuddering breath, my resolve cracking. Blinking away my burning tears, I try to remain composed. Being angry I can deal with. It was my anger that protected me. Now with Everett’s admission, a whole shit-ton of hurt swells inside me. I don’t even know how to deal with it. Laredo never allowed me to. He took it away before I could even get a chance to wallow in pity.

  “But why did you?” I ask, my voice quivering. “You guys said we were a team. I feel like I’m no longer a part of it. That’s a huge problem for me.”

  “Gwen, you are. You are so incredibly important to me. To us.” He stops in the hallway and looks at me. “I love
you.”

  I give in to the affection he craves and meet him for a whisper of a kiss. “I love you, too. I just want to get past this, you know? Being here...it’s messing me up.”

  “It’s only for another day.”

  I sigh. “It’s more than that. It’s—”

  A door opens, and a guy stumbles out, cutting off my thought. I stare at the guy from earlier—the guy who was also a Blood Match—fall to the ground. He tips his head up and releases a loud-ass laugh. Everett tightens his hold on me and turns away, continuing to stroll with me down the hallway toward our suite.

  Something smashes on the floor in front of us. Glass sprays across the hall. Everett stiffens and spins around. The Blood Match guy swipes another vase off a decorative table and throws the flowers on the floor. He waves it around, laughing again. A strange expression crosses his face. And then he chucks the vase at us.

  Everett spins and shields me with his body against the wall. The vase shatters by his feet. Releasing a low growl, Everett shifts to look at the guy over his shoulder. A silver candelabra hits Everett’s arm.

  He snarls this time, turning to set me on my feet. Pain erupts in my foot as a piece of glass slices my heel.

  “Ouch, fuck,” I say, lifting my foot. Blood drips from a small cut.

  “Uh-oh,” the guy says, pointing at me with wide eyes. “You failed to protect your Blood Match. You know what that means.”

  Everett loses his shit.

  Chapter 14

  Future Arrangements

  SLAMMING THE GUY’S BACK INTO the wall, Everett lifts him off his feet by his throat. The guy continues to laugh and cough, not even struggling. Fear pours through me. Everett extends his fangs longer than I’ve ever seen him do. And fuck. He’s going to kill this guy.

  “You better h-hurry, Mr. Royale. My mister will come at any second,” the Blood Match guy says.

  Everett snarls.

  “Everett, stop! It’s what he wants. He’s trying to get his contract broken.” I step around the glass and touch Everett’s shoulder. “Please, don’t do this. I’m fine.”