by Tiana Laveen
“This was supposed to flourish! We were the warrior Royals! We were the fiercest clan to ever rule, not only in France, but Europe, period! It all went terribly wrong… We should have never trusted anyone else. As soon as we let our guard down, our walls crumbled, our families were decimated. My eldest brother, King Alexandre Marseille, was supposed to be here ruling France! We still have a stake in all this, and he is pissing it away.
“Instead of leading the flock, he abandoned those that depend upon him the most. Many years ago, he took off on a voyage to the States, one he told none of us about, stating it was for the betterment of our kind. He promised to rule from a distance, and he did at first, but then he became distracted.” His slaves moved about quietly, listening, not daring to interrupt. “My brother, though was always quite secretive … I trusted his judgment. The problem was, he never quite trusted mine…”
Victor’s eyes narrowed as he spotted an old, torn white cape… similar to the one their father used to wear during important ceremonies. He made his way to it, ran his fingers along the thick fabric, and shook his head. Memories accosted his mind, taking over.
“Perhaps my brother knew my true intentions. I was helpless against my true nature… just as he is. He was born to build, I was born to destroy anything and everything that threatened the throne. We were to work in tandem.” Victor picked up a black sword from the middle of the floor and dusted it off against his black and crimson cape. It glowed bright, and he smiled when he couldn’t see his reflection in it. “Quality, pure dark silver.”
He marched out of the desolate space and made his way above ground, he and his men trudging up twenty flights of steps to one of the many locked and bolted exits. Flinging it open, he shielded his face, the sudden sunlight blinding him. He stood there for a spell, adjusting to the harsh sunrays, then pulled himself the rest of the way out. He then sent his slaves away to their home. For this next journey, he wished to be on his own.
His driver pulled up to take him to the train station for his trip to Carcassonne, a hilltop town in the Languedoc area of Southern France, infamous for its medieval sanctuary, La Cité, a structure with plentiful watchtowers and fortifications. It was also the site where the Council resided. Where the laws were upheld and judgments were made. It was time they became enlightened about the king’s comings and goings. He got comfortable in the back of the vehicle, clutching a flask full of warm blood.
My brother has an amazing way of making everyone feel comfortable, right before the kill. He keeps his true dealings in the dark, holding tight to their ignorance… he banks on it. Alexandre Marseille makes his decisions from afar, signing contracts and papers, pretending everything is under control. I am second in command, and yet he tells me nothing; he makes decisions without consulting me… and now he’s gone too far… in New York City, promising over thousands of years of royalty, power, honor and prestige to a Turned Slave Bitch!
He spit out the window, his fangs descending as he hissed, his hair flying in his face. A violent surge of energy rose within him.
He has no honor, no sense of tradition… trying to turn a servant into a queen. How ridiculous!
My brother was born on a full moon. Deception and animalistic behavior consumes him, like the malodorous wolves we’ve had to battle from time to time. But I am not fooled… You have gotten your hands on a precocious Turned Vamp. She would be the first non-Pure-Blood to become Queen, La Reine Du Sang, and I cannot allow that. We’re pure, and that’s how we’ll remain.
He leaned in the back seat, fist on knee, and seethed. His cellphone rang.
“Bonjour…”
“Hello, Victor. I am calling you back per your request.”
“As-tu des informations…?”
“Yes, I do have new news. The Count has agreed to meet with me about the situation. He proved a bit, shall we say, testy when I approached him previously about the matter, but he appears to be in better spirits as of late, so I will try my hand at it.” They’d had a previous video chat that he much enjoyed once the female in his brother’s camp alerted him of her concerns regarding his dear brother. She was a fine specimen indeed.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t, Fawn. You see, your beauty and intelligence are a rarity in this day and age, but it appears my brother is blinded by an idea that should have been abandoned centuries ago. I think we’ll need someone with a bit of a, shall I say, bigger influence in the fight?”
“What do you suggest? That I contact the Coven directly?”
“They are enamored with him, it would be useless. I have a better idea. My brother has a few close associates, I understand, one of whom is named Divo Bianchi, goes by Whiskey. Trained him himself. Are you familiar with this man? The big Half-Breed that he entrusts with everything?” He smirked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” the woman stated dryly. “With all due respect, I am not sure that’s a good plan. Whiskey is, shall I say, not very refined, Victor. He’s a bit of an idiot, really. I think that—”
“No. I want Whiskey. Convince that man to talk my brother out of going forward with marrying her. It will be a disaster if this isn’t stopped.”
“Why don’t we just kill her?”
He smiled at her words. “Because my brother would blame you, me, and everyone in his midst, which I don’t too much care about either way, but it’s the aftermath of that which would wreak havoc with my peace of mind. You see, Alexandre is notorious for engaging in unbelievable acts of revenge, Fawn. He’s like our mother…” He took a deep breath. “He will slaughter five hundred people just to eradicate one. He’s a walking timebomb. I prefer to use a bit more strategic planning for this event. Killing her will be our last resort, but it’s not completely out of the question.”
“May I ask you a question, Victor?”
“You may ask.” He chuckled. “I may choose to not answer. Try me.”
“Is your issue with Venus regarding the fact she is a Turned? Or is it her character? Maybe something else altogether. Honestly, if you ask me, her beauty is rather average.” The woman’s jealousy was so thick, it rivaled a brick. “Alexandre deems her as special for some reason, somehow different. I don’t see it.” She laughed. “In fact, she would be classified as bottom of the line. I can’t blame her though, she obviously wishes to have a Cinderella story.”
And so do you…
“I think Turned Vamps are equals.” He grinned as he ran his finger down his cheek and contemplated. “It’s this particular Turned Vamp that is the problem, Fawn… one that is completely unsuitable. You, my dear, come from good lineage. Your education is impeccable. I understand that you fell on hard times at one point in time and had to work at a tavern as well as danced, but you found your way out of that rather quickly. I believe with proper training you’d be an exceptional fighter, as all Queens should be and you’d provide fine offspring.”
He could practically see her grin on the other end of the phone. Damn it, her witlessness was entertaining and delightful. She’d make such a nice toy. Too bad she was so far away… an excellent sex slave at the very least.
There was a long pause.
“I will see what I can do.”
“No. You will not see what you can do. You will do it, and you will be successful or our arrangement is off the fucking table.”
He ended the call. Outside, as they drove on, the trees turned into branchy, gray blurs. His lips curled in a smile as he imagined the Council’s response once they were alerted of Alexandre’s latest conquest…
This is your last chance to turn this around, Alexandre, but we both know you won’t. In fact, I’m banking on it. From my end, it will appear as if I was fair and forgiving, wanting what was best for my brother, my Lord, my King. I have to do this, however. I must give the appearance that you’ve been provided plenty of opportunities to get your shit together. I came by to speak to you in person in New York and you assaulted my men. Now I have alerted your team to run an intervention, to make you come to your
senses by any means necessary, and we know what the outcome of that will be—you’ll scoff, you’ll fight, you’ll dare anyone to speak against you. Perhaps some heads will roll even, literally. You’ll be proven unfit. Finally. You’ll dig your heels in as you always do, and then, you will be stripped of your title and put down like a mangy dog with rabies… and I will settle into my rightful place…
Lord of France… King Victor Marseille has a nice bloody ring to it…
I never liked this bitch…
Whiskey stood outside the office building where his boss was speaking privately with a new client. It was two in the afternoon, and he’d just finished a large lunch of crispy fried fish, hot sauce soaked French fries and a blood smoothie that passed as beets and wheatgrass. He people watched, enjoying the fresh air. The Count had had a busy day and warned he’d be working late, but Whiskey didn’t mind hanging around. Besides, he could always go to the back of the building and get his dick sucked by a Vamp while watching his boss with an eagle eye.
“Gotta prioritize,” he said with a grin. The woman he loved to hate drew closer. He was hoping she’d turn down another street, but instead, she kept her trek steady, gunning right for him. “Maybe she’s just going inside…”
“I need to speak to you, Whiskey.”
Fawn wore a short plaid skirt, showing off her long, snow-white legs and feet clad in a pair of six-inch stiletto heels. He crossed his arms over his chest and twirled the toothpick around in his mouth.
“I’m not eatin’ your pussy again today.” He smirked.
The bitch was a good lay, that was for sure, but lately she’d gotten lazy and came to him for tongue lashings, then ran off before returning the favor. Selfish cunt. Besides that, he couldn’t stand her. He hated her voice, the way she moved. He hated practically every damn thing about her. She was a convenient fuck every now and again, usually when he was intoxicated, though he had others he much preferred. Fawn rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth.
“I’m not here for that!” she said between gritted teeth. “Look, we need to talk. You and I both know—” She paused to stare at the closed door behind him that led into the opulent Law Offices of Alexandre Marseille. “We both know there’s a situation that needs to be discussed. We need to help Alexandre.”
“Help Alexandre with what?”
“Step over here with me, please.”
“What? Afraid of the boss’ bat ears? He can hear ya thoughts before you even think ’em,” he teased… well, only partially. Count Marseille’s hearing was unreal.
“I just need two minutes, Whiskey.” The woman didn’t wait for an answer. She entered the building and pointed to a sitting area decorated with modern wooden furniture and white, fluffy furs draped across the sofas. Christina Perri’s, ‘Human’ played in low volume as he walked to one of the couches and sat down. Fawn sat across from him and clasped her hands, then crossed her shapely legs and smiled.
It was the fakest thing he’d seen in weeks.
Whore. Cunt. Bitch. Tramp.
“How much do you care about Alexandre?” He grimaced and sighed, rolling his eyes in the process. “All right.” She put up her hand. “Fine. I’ll just get to it. Look, Venus is trouble, okay? She’s bad news.”
“Are you sure you’re not talkin’ about yourself?”
“This is serious, Whiskey.”
“Okay. Why do you say that?”
“For starters, she’s not on Alexandre’s level.”
“And you are?” The vixen twitched about in her seat. “I don’t have time for this shit.” He yawned and stood to his feet. “When you have a real reason that I need to jump in and fetch, you let me know.”
“There’s money involved and you will finally be put in a position you deserve! Don’t you hate being his lap dog?! Jesus!” She stood, too. “You just used the word ‘fetch’, for God’s sake! Grow some fucking balls, Whiskey. Be a man!” He rubbed along his chin. “You and Bruce are treated like Venus in her pre-turned life! Slaves!”
“I’m not treated like Venus. He’s not fuckin’ me… he’s not turnin’ me into his Queen,” he teased as he batted his eyelashes in a girly way. The woman hissed. “All right, what type of money are we talkin’?” He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels.
“Millions.”
He swallowed. “And what do you want me to do to get it?”
“Get him away from Venus. Get her completely out of the picture.”
“Kill her? Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you have any damn idea what he’d do to anyone that touched a fuckin’ hair on her head?”
“No, there are other ways.”
“You’re crazy.” He cracked his knuckles. “No one can do that. They’re all into one another now.”
“Oh yes you can, I have faith in you. Alexandre listens to you, Whiskey. He trusts you. Work on him. Slowly. There’s something I’ve noticed over this time that they’ve been together, something I’ve never seen him exhibit before.”
“And what’s that? Less time fuckin’ around with the likes of you? In fact, I bet he hasn’t even let you kiss his hairy ass since he took her to his bedroom and set up shop. That must eat cha up inside, huh?” He swished the toothpick to the other side of his mouth and chewed on it some more before spitting it out onto the nearby table.
“I don’t give two fucks about who he is sleeping with. If I wanted to fuck him again right now, I could. That is beside the point. You have to use the man’s weakness, Whiskey.”
“He doesn’t have many.”
“That’s true, but he’s extremely jealous when it comes to her. Why do you think he has you chasing behind her all the time? He’s insecure when it comes to Venus… doesn’t want her even looking at another man.”
Whiskey ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of the tangy blood he’d consumed earlier.
“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”
“Yes, because I care about him so much, Whiskey.” Her sad expression was almost believable. “Alexandre is brilliant! I don’t want to see that all go to waste. A true friend sometimes does things they don’t want to do… for the greater good.”
Her lips curled in a slight smile. Sickening.
“So what’s your plan?”
“Tell him you’ve seen Venus with others. He’ll believe you. You watch her, you follow her, act like you’re all broken up about it, you know, devastated to have to tell him that the love of his life is still out in the streets fucking random cock for her feeds. Be detailed… describe the dicks plunging down her throat, the way her pussy gaped open from the multiple fucking, all taking her at once… tear him up inside. You know what to do.” She smiled as her eyes grew dark. She lessened the gap between them and looked up into his eyes. Taking his black shirt collar into her hands, she gripped it tight, coiling it around her nimble, long fingers. “You can finally be free, Whiskey…” she whispered before pressing her lips to his.
“I owe him, Fawn.”
“We’re not faithful, you fucking idiot!” She stepped back from him, fire in her eyes. “We’re not fucking wolves! There is no pack.” She waved her arms about. “Each and every vampire is out for himself and if you think the Count wouldn’t throw you under the bus for someone he deems more efficient, then you are a fool! We’re all expendable to him. You’re not special, and neither is she!”
He mulled her words. “All right, you’ve made your point. I’ll talk to him.”
The woman’s features relaxed and she sported a pleased smile.
“Good, glad to hear it.” She turned to walk away. “Do it soon, though. We’re on a tight deadline.”
“How much money, Fawn? I want an exact fuckin’ figure if you expect me to put my neck on the line like this.” He jammed his hand into his pants pocket.
“$3,000,000… enough for you to start fresh on your own, and never have to answer to anyone again.”
“And where are you gonna get it from?
I mean shit, he pays well, but not that well.”
She slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll handle it.” She winked before sauntering away.
Whiskey slumped back down onto the wooden couch, while the sounds of Daniel Powter crooning ‘Bad Day’ played through the speakers. He had to burst out laughing at that.
“Isn’t that the fuckin’ understatement of the year…”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Farewells and Bombshells
It had become increasingly harder for Venus to keep her secret under lock and key. Her friends insisted on information, and they demanded answers to the point that they could no longer be ignored.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Did you move in with that guy from the party?’
‘Someone said he’s a cutthroat attorney. Is it true?’
She decided to invite the ladies out for a weekend lunch. For Camille and Deborah, it would be a typical girls’ day, a routine good time. But for Venus, it would be a cruel goodbye…
Over the past few weeks, she’d come to the difficult decision, one of the hardest of her life. It was time to come completely into her own and take Whiskey’s wise words, that he’d said to her weeks prior, to heart… though she didn’t for one second believe that Camille and Deborah were evil incarnate. No, her motivations were a bit more complicated than that. These women needed protection.
She didn’t want them involved in this mess. There were consequences to being a Queen to a man like Alexandre Marseille. Anything and anyone she cared about could be in the crossfire should things go awry. Her lover had never admitted to her that anyone in her circle was in danger, but she could read between the lines. He expected her to use common sense. He’d never told her outright how to move, what to do, and how to think. He expected her to figure it out on her own and this was no different. It was best not to have anyone she cared for too close, someone who could be used and abused for blackmail, threatened, or taken apart, limb by fucking limb.
