Nor is her scent. The differences that let her fit in amongst those in the city.
“Is this table to your liking, Sir?” the woman asks, moving closer to his side, but before she can place a hand on my mate’s arm, he has her wrist in his hold. Had we been anywhere else, he wouldn’t hesitate to break it, but for now I’m satisfied by the subtle crunch of bones and her yelp. “Sir, you’re—”
“Never touch me,” my husband hisses out, the command of a king, eyes flashing red while she begins to shake. His fangs descend for a second, piercing the gums while she watches in fear. “Disrespect my wife again, and I’ll have your head on a spike outside the palace walls. Now, go back to the front and don’t come back.”
“My apologies.”
“Not accepted, hybrid.”
“How?” the hostess asks me while holding her wrist against her chest, voice trembling. She knew who we were. “No one here—”
“Silence.” Her immediate compliance to my demand is false, belittled by her earlier behavior. Stupid and idiotic; I study her for a few minutes, stretching out the silence while she shifts nervously, a whimper escaping her. “Name.”
“Elise.”
“Elise what?” my husband asks, even though I have an idea of who her father is. Even though half human, her essence is reminiscent of his. Earthy, but mixed with roses to enhance her femininity.
“Veltross. My name is Elise Veltross.”
“The daughter of one of my generals. One who would be embarrassed by your behavior and punish you just as swiftly.” Coincidence, or…? my mate asks through our link, tilting his head while studying her. Have you spoken to Isabella?
“Yes.” Eyes on the ground, she takes a step back. “I’m very sorry.”
We’re to meet tomorrow afternoon. “You let your human side overpower and disgrace our very nature and laws, Miss Veltross.” Eyes narrowed, I watch her through slits while clutching the napkin in my hand. I’m not buying her sudden contrite act, nor do we trust her father. He’s a good general but thinks too highly of himself and his position. “How dare you try and touch my mate and your king.”
“I was being—”
“You speak when spoken to. Understood?”
“Yes, My Queen.”
“Do not step a single foot out of line, Elise. This is my only warning.”
“Yes, My Queen.”
“Leave.”
“Thank you, My Queen.” Elise scurries off and doesn’t look back, hiding up front while I am served dinner by an older gentleman and my husband watches me eat. It’s something he enjoys, to sit and quietly observe while I return the favor when he hunts. When he lets nature take its rightful place and he momentarily satiates the never-ending thirst.
My king has great control over his impulses. He only kills to eat, as any hunter would do.
It’s his nature to kill and drink. It’s sexy to watch him overpower his prey.
Like the man from last night, a drunk imbecile who thought it prudent to grab my wrist and yank me back, but before I could slam my elbow in his face, my husband had him by the neck with his feet dangling above the ground.
No mercy. No hesitation as he ran a metal nail—a humorous gift I had made for him—from one side of the man’s neck as if he were a chicken at a slaughterhouse. His eyes were an angry ruby red as the demon within him took control. Absolutely glorious to watch, a true aphrodisiac as he buried his fangs deep into the man’s neck and drained him of every drop of blood within his dead veins.
It was messy and angry, and my thighs clenched then as they do now with the memory, an action my husband catches. His nostrils flare and eyes become darker—hooded and hungry. A little feral, and I lick the last bite of my dessert sensually from the spoon.
A move he follows with a different unrestrained hunger.
“Two minutes, Gabriella.”
“Two minutes?” I ask, feigning an ignorance that makes him flash those sharp fangs at me. He’s yet to turn me at my request; my sister and I are bound by loyalty to our people after the death of our parents, but the time to crown a new ruler has come and our baby brother is now of age. He’ll be fair. He’ll do right by the throne while my sister and I follow two different paths.
One with a werewolf.
One with a vampire.
“Run, pretty girl.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I taunt, leaning over to nip his jaw. “Now close your eyes and count to sixty. Come find me if you can.”
“Are you challenging your king?”
“Always, love. Always.”
33
Gabriella
I wake up panicked, a scream caught in my throat while a bit disoriented. There’s someone pounding on both the front door and back, multiple voices yelling, and then the wood splinters as they’re kicked open.
“What the fuck?” As I say this, my home becomes crowded by officers aiming their guns at my head, shouting orders that I don’t understand. It all feels like gibberish, like a Peanuts cartoon until I’m yanked up and thrown to the ground by a man twice my weight and pinned, hands pulled behind my back at an awkward angle.
It hurts. My head is fuzzy.
I’m lost between that dream, how real it felt compared to this, and I can’t make heads or tails of anything. Was that real and this is the dream? Why am I being arrested?
“Get off me,” I manage to squeak after a minute, lifting my head enough to take in the scene around me. They are trashing my house. The pictures on the walls are being torn down while the furniture is kicked over by a man and woman who I’m starting to loathe.
Her I don’t know, but Consuelos has become a familiar face.
“What are you doing to my house, Detective?” My voice rings out clear through the chaos, and all movements cease. “What right do you have to do this?”
Consuelos stops what he’s doing and walks over, pausing two steps from me. “You’re under investigation for the disappearance of Elise Scott, Miss Moore. We are placing you under—”
“Where’s the signed warrant from a judge?” I interrupt, knowing my rights. This is the third attempt to trample on them. “Why haven’t my rights been read, or the paperwork shown?”
“People like you don’t get those privileges.” The woman sneers, and it's then I notice she’s out of uniform, dressed all in black and the name Diana is spelled across the small breast pocket of her cotton shirt. “She told you to back off.”
“She who?”
“We have some blood on a tree near the back of the lot!” someone shouts from the kitchen area, prompting another two men to exit in a rush. No one speaks for a few minutes, but the tensions mount between those left inside. I’m left with Diana, Consuelos, and the man pinning me down. “I need someone to call in the forensics team.”
Nobody takes out their phones, though. Instead, the two standing look down at me with condescending smirks on their faces. “So where did you hide the body?” Diana starts the questioning, squatting down to where I’m being held, my body crushed against the floor. “Do you hate your best friend so much to have killed her? You stole her husband, and now this?”
“What body? What husband?”
“Theodore Astor has been married to her…”
I drown out the rest. That makes no sense.
It has to be a lie. I asked him, and he told me he wasn’t.
That I was all he wanted.
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?” Diana pulls something out of her back pocket, a folded note with some writing on it that looks too new to be real. “Here’s their marriage certificate. Believe me now?”
The paper in question is dropped right in front of my face. Moreover, it’s a marriage license, dated and stamped by the courts ten years ago, and yet, the ink is dark blue, something that no government agency uses. It’s all black. End of. Second, what stands out is Elise's signature, yet Theo’s is off.
That’s not the one I saw in my contract.
“So they'
re married?” I ask, my voice low and sad. I’ll play along until I manage to get Theo on the phone. “Why didn’t she tell me? Where is she?”
“Why don’t you tell us? Is that her blood on the tree?” Consuelos looks around nervously, meeting Diana’s gaze before shifting to the man on the ground and nodding. “Stop resisting, Gabriella! We only want to help you.”
“Hands where we can see them. Hands where we can see them!” This came from Diana, and dread fills my chest. Lord, please help me. Something is very wrong here.
“I’m not resisting—” Pain explodes behind my eyes, the side of my skull feeling as though they’ve cracked it, and the last thing I remember as I’m thrown over a man’s shoulder and rushed into the back of a dark green car is the white snake.
It’s coiled along the large tree in my front yard, watching while the door is closed and my eyes roll back. And yet, I manage to open them once more and meet its eyes, milky blue and unafraid, and right before something is pressed to my nose and mouth, it nods.
My body aches when I come to. My head feels as though it’s been split open by a jackhammer, and yet it’s the least of my problems. I don’t know where I am or why, but I’m inside of an all-white room with padded walls and a single window up high. Out of reach.
It’s there to let me know the sky is dark out, and it’s a rainy night at that.
The water pelts against the closed panes and I look up, catching a shadow looking in. Two beady eyes.
“That’s it. I’m certifiable.” The animal head-butts the glass hard. Once. Twice. Three times before it shatters and the pieces rain down on the ground. “I wonder what did me in? Did I snap like those people on all the crime shows I watched? Will they make one about me?” I mutter under my breath, sitting up with my back against the wall.
My mattress is on the floor with only a thin blanket and pillow atop of it. I will say I’m thankful to still be in my clothes, the paint splatters from earlier today now dry and caked on my skin.
The animal starts to descend into the room headfirst, but pulls back when the clack, clack, clack of heels comes near. They stop at my door for a second, the feminine voice saying something to whoever is with her before turning the handle.
“Nice to see you’re up.” Elise walks in and stops a few feet from me. “Not that you’ll be around much longer.”
“What are you doing here? Weren’t you missing?”
“To the world, I am missing.” She takes another step closer, and there’s something in her hand that looks like a syringe. “Just like you’ll be soon.”
I’m wobbly when I stand, stumbling a bit, but I manage to pull myself up against the wall just below the window where I know it’s hiding. “Stay away from me.”
I don’t know who’s worse; the snake or her.
“Or what?”
“Elise, this isn’t funny. You’re going too far.”
“He will never know what it’s like to rule with you by his side.” Her eyes hold so much evil. So much hate. “Long live the queen, Miss Moore.”
Her hand snaps back and forward quickly, and I only manage to catch the glint of metal before it’s coming toward me. I’m paralyzed, stunned she’d do this, but then it falls to the ground somewhere to my left.
The python slithers down the wall, its large body falling slowly to the ground before taking its place in front of me. Like a protector would. It coils, but its head remains off the ground while staring her down. For each move she makes the snake follows it.
I don’t scream. I don’t cry.
I watch and wait.
Surprised when Elise attempts to walk back out slowly, the fear I felt now reflected in her eyes. “He’s coming.”
The serpent doesn’t move, but flicks it tongue out almost lazily. Almost taunting.
“Fucking shit!” Screams come from the corridor then, a mass frenzy of terror, and I slide down the wall behind the albino guard. He’s either here to kill me or protect me, and right now, either sounds fine. “This isn’t over. Tell him this isn’t over!”
Then she turns and runs, yelling at someone to get her out before they are caught and killed.
And through it all, as doors slam and people’s screams begin to fade, I remain where I am.
It could be minutes or hours, who knows, but my rational mind comes to when a cold head lies atop my hand on the floor. Its skin is smooth, it’s presence a bit comforting, and I smile down at the creature.
“If you’re here to kill me, go ahead. At this point, it might be better this way.” An angry hiss is the response I get, and I nearly laugh at the sound. I’m hanging with a snake. I’m touching a snake. The animal takes his eyes off me, taking in my reactions, and after a few minutes rubs his head against my skin the same way that Mr. Pickles does. “Are you wanting me to pet you?”
Not that I expect a response, but when I get this small little nod, I laugh. Loud and near hysterics, but I do. I run my fingers over the head and down the neck in slow passes while looking toward the room’s entrance. I can still hear some commotion outside this room—try to ignore the shrill screams of agony—until it all dies down.
Then there’s nothing.
A stillness that is eerie.
But through it all, my companion stays by my side and poised to strike, if it comes to that.
That is, until footsteps come close. Closer.
They stop just outside my door and a sharp whistle rends the air, a sound my new friend follows. No looking back. No goodbyes.
Who knows what fate has in store, and I close my eyes for a second. I’m accepting. It is what it is until a throat clears, and a scent I’d know anywhere greets my senses.
I don’t need to open my eyes to know it’s Theo.
“Look at me,” he commands, voice deeper. Rougher than I’ve ever heard, and I follow the order without pause, nearly screaming when I see his bloodied clothes, his features hardened with eyes glinting red, and the two white fangs protruding from his gums.
“Hello, pretty girl.”
34
Theodore Astor
Vampire King
“What did you just call me?” Gabriella’s shaking, her hand in her hair and fisting the lovely red locks I adore. “This can’t be. No. No. NOOOOOO!”
“Relax, sweetheart. Just breathe, and I will explain.”
“What the hell is there to explain? It’s just a coincidence and—”
“You’re busy making excuses when we both know I’m real.” I take a step closer but she scrambles up, pushing against the wall as if it would move for her. “When you visit me each night in your dream, pretty girl. When you taunt me every moment of the day while awake.”
“It’s a dream. Just a dream.” Her head shakes from side to side, and her breathing becomes choppy. My beautiful little artist is panicking, but I’m not going to stop. I’ve waited so long for her. For this moment. “This is just a figment of my imagination…I’m probably on heavy medication and seeing shit.”
“Then why do your legs still clench at the sight of me?” My nostrils flare, and her sweet scent seeps—infiltrates my senses. Her breathing is arousing to me, but scenting her desire is a weakness; always has been. “Why does your pussy clench in need? Why do you still want me no matter how many men I killed outside this room?”
“I don’t.” Yet I catch the flash of fire in her eyes. My bride is there. Trapped. “Besides, this isn’t real. None of it is.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Okay.” Theo makes a whistling sound, and a second later the albino python slithers inside once more, stopping at a safe distance from her. He turns his head toward me, asking for permission, and I nod while watching my beauty break and crumble. Her mind is shutting down, while her body wants to flee and never stop running. Silly girl.
“What’s happening? Why is…” she trails off, freezing, as her serpent guard becomes Tero who watches her through caring eyes. He’s known her just as long as I have, a
century of missing his queen, and his loyalty is unbreakable. She saved his sister, the only family he had left.
“My Queen.” He bows, looking toward the ground, but Gabriella makes a tsking sound—one she’s made a thousand times in our past, and a small smirk curls at my lips. Her human mind might not process like we do, but a part of her remembers.
At my smile, she tilts her head to the side while I simply raise a brow. “What about now?”
“I need a minute.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Alone,” she clarifies while I scratch my jaw, the drying blood on my hands making her shake. “Just a few minutes is all I ask, and then we can talk.”
Liar. “Go ahead and run, Gabriella,” I croon my mate’s name, and I revel in the pleasurable shiver that runs through her at the sound. The way her nipples pebble beneath the thin shirt she wears, her bra nearly nonexistent. She’s still attracted to me even while trying to make heads or tails of what’s real and what’s not.
I’ve played dirty with her.
I’ve hurt her.
“You’d chase me?”
“To the ends of the earth without hesitation.”
“Would you let me go if I asked?”
“Never.” At my honest answer she closes her eyes, breathing in deeply before letting it out slowly. “Tero, please head out and deliver the package.”
“Consider it done, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, old friend.” He exits after giving Gabriella a bow, leaving us alone. Then, I walk deeper into the room and calmly survey her—take in any bruise she may have—and I see red when I smell blood coming from her head. Lost in her arousal and discovery, I didn’t smell the older blood, but now it’s a pungent calling that I don’t ignore. I have her in my arms before her next intake of breath, my lips at the cut. “Who did this to you?”
“How did you move so fast?”
“Who hurt you?” Each word leaves me on a growl, my anger palpable, and she pales. Her fear is as delicious as her arousal, and I take a moment to inhale deeply and hold her essence in my cold, dead lungs. Every part of her is a heady distraction; always has been. “You’re bleeding, pretty girl, and I don’t like it.”
Little Lies Page 22
