The Queen's Protectors (A Throne of Blood Book 1)

by Scarlett Snow

  His touch soothes my nerves, and I give him a confident smile. As I watch him press for the ground floor, I fight the grimace threatening to cross my features. Why am I feeling so goddamn ungrateful? Instead of embracing my mother’s inheritance, all I can think about is finding the creature who murdered her. Fancy cars. Expensive clothing. Those kinds of luxuries have always meant little to me, and I’ve spent the majority of my life secretly donating them. In all honesty, I’d rather wear a pair of fluffy socks and pajamas than designer dresses any day.

  My mother did not hold the same beliefs on the matter. She never told me who my father was, but she made a point of saying I came from noble lineage and that I needed to embrace my roots. It was like she was trying to prepare me for something. I just never figured out what. Although, I also assumed she sent me those expensive gifts to fill the void her absence often left. Even vampires sometimes attempted to buy affection when they sensed a rift in their relationships. I never blamed her though. She was only trying to protect me. I just wish I knew why she stopped talking to me all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?

  At any rate, that’s all in the past. I can’t focus on the what ifs anymore. I plan to use today, and every day that follows, to my advantage. Mystique’s headquarters will surely contain information—links, leads, something—that can help pinpoint who exactly killed my mother and why. If it was one of her rivals, I will find them, and I will bleed them dry. It’s only a matter of time. Even the girl who wears fluffy socks can kill a treacherous bastard when the opportunity arises.

  My mother’s secretary is not what I expect. He’s an insanely muscular alpha male with a neatly trimmed beard and black hair shorn at the sides. He holds the car door open for me as I step outside. Before I can offer him my hand, he pulls me into a suffocating bear hug and squeezes. My cheeks smoosh against the gold harness poking out from underneath his straining, black leather shirt. He smells of whisky with a hint of peppermint and forest pine needles soaked in the rain.

  And. Oh. My. Sweet. Holy. Fuck.

  He looks like he could crush a skull between those thighs of his, and I’m honestly surprised his matching leather pants haven’t ripped. The tattoos etched onto his dark skin make my body tense with desire. My mother certainly had excellent taste in… secretaries. Kaleo is downright gorgeous, and hell if I can restrain the tingling going on between my legs. I don’t even want to. He’s a total babe.

  “Umm, nice to meet you?” I say, patting him on his outrageously toned back. “I’m really hoping you’re my mother’s secretary, Kaleo, or else I’m being fondled by a random pervert.”

  He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. His golden eyes flicker in the sunlight. They remind me of a fresh hayfield bathed in the sun. “Now how’d you go and know that?” He gives me a cheeky wink and indicates the revolving doors behind him. “I’ve ordered us some coffee and food for later. I hope you’ve got an appetite.”

  I smile at him, then gasp in horror. “Yes, I can still eat actual food, believe it or not.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus. Ain’t that something? Then let’s grab a drink before they turn cold, eh? I don’t care what anyone says. Cold coffee ain’t the same as iced coffee.”

  Ronan and I exchange a smile before we follow Kaleo into the grand building. There’s something about Kaleo that immediately draws me to him. His voice, his warmth, his aura fills me with a strange sense of belonging. He has the kind of deep voice I could listen to all day and the type of body I want touching me all night.

  As we enter the foyer, Kaleo describes certain aspects of the club—when this particular building was constructed, what renovations my mother made over the years, and which kind of guests visit on a daily basis. Surprisingly, not just the elite come here, but ordinary members of the public who can afford a membership card. He then leads us up a butterfly staircase and into a dimly lit room adorned in rich velvet curtains with dark wooden floors and furniture. Wait staff move around the floor, polishing crystal silverware and placing them on the clothed tables. Candles hang from the draped walls and a grand chandelier towers above the main bar. There’s a classy air about the entire place, and I begin to regret choosing to wear my tattered boots.

  Kaleo guides us around a huge stage, where I suspect the burlesque shows must take place, and unlocks a latticed door. We enter another poorly lit but ventilated antechamber, almost like a dungeon. On the walls, various tools dangle from stone shelves—whips, butt plugs, fetters, masks, latex clothing. There’s also familiar equipment on the floor—fuck benches, swings, cages, vertical cells, and bondage horses. I instantly wet my lips upon seeing them. There’s too many for me to count but I recognize them all. It’s like walking into my playroom back home in London.

  Kaleo unlocks another door, and we enter what seems to be a security room. Various views of the activity happening throughout the club play out on a huge screen mounted on the main wall. I notice the footage doesn’t include only the club. It’s of popular landmarks in New York. London. Rome. Athens. A team of men and women sit at desks, typing rapidly and analyzing the cameras. None of them look up as we pass by.

  At last, Kaleo leads us into a quieter room. There are no cameras, stages, people, or to my dismay, any BDSM equipment. There’s only a private bar in the upper corner and a number of velvet sofas and chairs dotted around the room. My boots sink into a lush velvet carpet the color of lavender. A gigantic bed lays in the middle of the floor, and perhaps it’s my imagination, but I swear I can smell my mother’s vanilla scented perfume.

  “…and this is where your mother spent most of her time,” Kaleo says, waving a hand around the room. “She used to call it her reflection room. We liked to call it her ‘leave me the fuck alone to drink in peace’ room. It was her favorite place to rest here.”

  An icy shiver crawls down my body. I can still feel her presence within these walls, clinging to the air like a cold, vengeful shadow. I look over my shoulder at Ronan. He’s moved over to the bar and is busy preparing us some drinks. I take a deep, calming breath, but my mother’s perfume invades my senses. A fleeting scowl twists up my face. Soon that smell will be gone and my mother just a memory.

  “I miss the old bat too,” Kaleo says, dragging me from my depressing stupor. His somber expression slowly turns into a smile, crinkling the laugh lines around his eyes. “That’s what I used to call her. She called me her big pussy cat.”

  “It sounds like you were close with her.” I drop onto one of the sofas, grinning at his nickname. Maybe he’s some kind of werecat? I wish I had the ability to decipher shifters based on their scents like purebreds can.

  Kaleo nods thoughtfully. He claims the armchair across from me and steeples his tattooed fingers. “Your mother was an amazing vampire. This”—he gestures around the room with his chin—”is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s high time you know who and what you are, Your Majesty.”

  Ronan moves over to us and hands me a martini. I pause for a moment, digesting what Kaleo just said. Why the hell would he call me Your Majesty? Ronan calls me that sometimes but as a joke. I’ve only just met Kaleo. What the hell? Cold dread starts to settle in my stomach. I have a feeling I’m not going to like why I’ve been brought here.

  I take my drink from Ronan and keep my tone superficially light as I quip, “Uh-oh, Ronan. He called me Your Majesty. Now I’m in trouble.”

  Kaleo chuckles and thanks Ronan for his drink. I watch them clink glasses as though they are old friends. With them so close and smiling at each other, I almost want them to get, well, closer. But I bite my lip and inwardly shake my head at myself. Now is definitely not the time to let my inner Domme out. She’s staying locked away until I get home. Today, I’m here to find answers, even if I might not like them.

  I’m definitely not here to imagine Ronan and Kaleo fucking each other.

  I take small sip, my studious gaze still pinned on Kaleo. My heart skips a beat at the sight of his perfectly straight, pearly-white smile. It’s like h
e has a lasso around me, and he’s steadily wheeling me in. I can’t shake the urge to be next to him. Closer. I want to feel his lips on my mouth, and, in some bizarre part of my brain, I feel safe in his presence, much like I do with Ronan. I should remain guarded in some way, as I am with most strangers, but I’m absolutely not. I feel I can bare myself to Kaleo and not feel ashamed. The only person I’ve ever been able to do that with is Ronan. Even then, he used to say it was like squeezing blood from a stone. I’m not the easiest person to get through to, and I find it difficult to open up.

  Kaleo catches me staring and grins. “What’s wrong, Your Majesty? Cat got your tongue?”

  I quirk an eyebrow at him. Until I know exactly what and who he is, I need to play things safe. “Ronan tells me you have things to explain,” I drawl, taking another drink of my martini.

  Kaleo’s expression tightens and a shadow drifts over his face. This change from flirtatious employee to serious businessman is immediate. He sets his drink on the circular coffee table sandwiched between us and clears his throat. “I do have a lot of things to explain, Your Majesty.” I inwardly cringe at the title. What’s the handsome devil playing at? Trying to make me uncomfortable? “I guess I should start from the beginning.” Kaleo takes a deep breath and levels me with a pointed look. “Your mother wasn’t just the CEO of Mystique Club. She served as the head of the largest Paranormal Protection Unit in the world.”

  “Paranormal what now?” I repeat, widening my eyes. My pulse spikes, and my martini glass slips in my now sweating palm. “Those cameras in the other room. I knew they weren’t just of the clubs.”

  He shakes his head. Ronan moves beside me, though he doesn’t sit down. Kaleo continues. “Essentially, when any paranormal creature steps out of line and threatens to expose the Shadow World, your mother would send an agent to take care of them.”

  I swallow hard. “By take care, you mean…”

  Kaleo hesitates. “Let’s just say, sometimes the perpetrator refuses to cooperate, forcing the agent to take drastic measures. Your mother started this unit long before you or even I were born. It was originally on behalf of the vampire royals, but they stopped interfering half a century ago. I think your mother’s success, and our people’s preference of her over the royals, left a sour taste in their mouths.”

  I glance at Ronan and then back at Kaleo. “Do you think they had a hand in killing her?” I ask, my insides churning as I say the words.

  “It’s hard to say.” Kaleo scratches his trimmed beard. He glances briefly at Ronan. “Does Her Majesty know why her mother sent her abroad all those years ago?”

  “Because my mere existence is an abomination,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Can’t a girl ever catch a break?” I laugh quietly. I stop when I witness the seriousness on Kaleo’s face and hell, even Ronan’s. “My mother never told me who my father was. This is why I’m here, isn’t it? You know who he is, and now you’re allowed to tell me.”

  Kaleo nods grimly. “Your father, Dracul, was the Shifter King until about six weeks ago.”

  My head spins with what Kaleo just revealed. It’s like reality is finally catching up with me, and my mind has been thrown into a whirlpool.

  “King?” I manage to repeat. “Wait. What the hell does that make me?”

  “The queen,” Ronan answers, matter-of-factly. “The One True queen.”

  My blood turns to ice in my veins. I turn around and search Ronan’s eyes, questioning what he just said. The muscles are hard at work around his chiseled jaw, his eyes are crimson and narrowed, and his arms are folded. He looks every bit of the sour-faced bodyguard from my childhood, a vampire one definitely wouldn’t want to mess with. And trust me, one wouldn’t. In addition to being a fearsome fighter, Ronan’s spanks hurt like a bitch.

  “Now you know why I had to protect you,” Ronan explains, softening his features.

  “And that’s why you—you both—call me Your Majesty. I thought you guys were joking.”

  “I’d never joke like that,” Ronan snaps with an evident bitterness to his words.

  I pull my eyebrows together, trying to make sense of everything. “What happened to my father? Is he alive? Why didn’t my mother talk about him?”

  Kaleo’s eyes are soft as they lock with my own. “Rumor had it, that after your mother fled and took you with her all those years ago, his mental state steadily declined, and his reign faded. It’s said that he died of a broken heart after decades of trying to find you both. But your mother knew she had to keep you safe. Not only are you a mixed-breed, but you’re the heir to the One Throne. The royals don’t want their positions threatened, and so after the king’s death, the dragon regent, Shin Kasai, claimed the throne and released the assassins. They weren’t just shifters who came looking for your mother. They were also vampires. Both royal families came after her.” A dark look flits over his face. His features harden into a tight frown as he looks at the floor. “We thought we had everything under control. We increased your mother’s concealment magic here, at her home, and over you in London. Yet, deep down, I think…”

  He doesn’t appear eager to continue. With my heart racing at the incredible revelations, I force myself to remain calm and gently probe him. “You think what, Kaleo? Tell me. Please.”

  His eyes flick up again, burning like molten gold. “I think your mother lifted the concealment spells so she could be with your father again. This allowed the royals to work together in order to possess Lady Eloise and…” He looks away, unwilling to finish.

  “Slaughter her,” I say what he can’t. “Because that’s what they did, Kaleo. They butchered my mother in her home and left her to drown in a pool of her own blood.”

  There’s no point hiding from it. That is exactly what happened, and I vow to return the favor to each that had a hand in her murder. I’ll make damn sure of it.

  The blood drains from Kaleo’s face. “Yes,” he says, nodding. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nervously. “I wish I didn’t let her go home alone yesterday. If only I—”

  “Stop it,” I intervene, knowing well what’s about to come. “It wasn’t your fault, Kaleo.”

  It was mine, I want to say, but I just manage to hold the words back. If it weren’t for me, my mother would still be alive, and so would my father. They both died because of me.

  Kaleo keeps his eyes on the floor, seemingly too ashamed to look at me. “You don’t get it, Your Majesty. I offered to drive her home that night. She insisted that I finish early since it was my birthday. But I wish… if only I hadn’t… I don’t deserve to even be sitting here.”

  I rise from my chair and walk over to him. I gently touch his shoulder, and the second I do, a bolt of electricity shoots up my arm and settles into my stomach, warming my insides. It’s like basking in a summer-soaked desert: hot, fresh, fragrant, and wild. “I promise to find out who killed her, Kaleo, and I’ll punish them for what they did.” I nod over at Ronan. “We both will. I’m a Sinclaire. That’s what we do. You know from experience my mother never let a crime go unpunished.”

  Kaleo offers me a weak smile. I hear his heart thumping against his ribs, the pace increasing the longer I touch him. I can’t seem to take my hand away. He’s so warm, so primal and… perfect. “Well, this brings me to the other reason we brought you here,” Kaleo says, covering my hand with his palm. “You need to choose your Protectors.”

  I sit on the edge of his chair, feeling strangely comfortable at his side. “What are my Protectors?” I ask him softly, despite the turmoil churning within me. “Why do I need Protectors?”

  It takes every scrap of will power to remain calm. I don’t want Kaleo to think me weak, despite dropping these bombshells on me. But everything is beginning to make sense; why my mother never spoke of my father and his side of the family; why Ronan had me train ruthlessly in combat since childhood; why the staff back in London acted so weirdly around me, bowing and refusing to talk or look me in the eyes; and most of all, what my mother meant
by high lineage.

  I was a fucking princess.

  “You need Protectors to, well, protect you since the royal assassins will be coming after you next,” Ronan replies sternly, a deep growl to his words. “By midnight, your mother’s spell will be lifted now that she’s gone, and your existence will be exposed to all the royals. You’ll be vulnerable.”

  “So we need Protectors—guardians, if you will—to protect you,” Kaleo states. “They’ll be your shields in war and your armor against the assassins. Whoever you choose to be at your side, they will keep you safe. You are their true queen. It would be an honor to die protecting you, and a privilege to drink your blood. It’s what we crave more than anything. To be with you, to fight for you, and to love every inch of you while being blessed with your blood.”

  I stand up from his chair, my calm facade beginning to crack. “Wait, wait, wait. First, you tell me I’m royalty, which, to be fair, I guess I always knew in the back of my mind considering my elaborate, bullshit upbringing, then you say my mother was murdered by royal assassins, and now my life’s on the line but others want to die just to protect me?” I throw my hands into the air. “This is too much bullshit to deal with on a Monday. Hand me another drink, Ronan.”

  I watch both their faces spread into a grin. It warms me to see them smiling like that, but at the same time, I know my false calmness and bravado is only a front. I flop back onto my own chair and press my head against the fabric. Ronan places a reassuring hold of my shoulders and starts to massage me. When I peek through my dark lashes at Kaleo, there’s a strange look in his eyes as he follows the path of Ronan’s hands. It’s feral. Hungry. Possessive.

  “How will I even know if I’ve found a Protector?” I ask him, but it’s Ronan who responds.

  “You’ll know the moment you lay eyes on them,” he says, his jade eyes glistening in the dim lights. “You’ll feel like your heart is about to explode and the air has been seized from your lungs every moment you are apart. All you’ll be able to think about is being with them—inhaling their scent and drinking their blood to the point of intoxication. It will feel like a crushing need inside of you.”