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

by Scarlett Snow

  “So,” she murmurs, slightly breathless, “I take it you like your present?”

  My low growl is the only answer I can give. She has no idea what this gift means to me. I’ve spent most of my life fighting my opponents just to see another day, but now I’m bonded to my queen, and this harness is a representation of that. It’s an honor I’ll carry for the rest of my life, as her Protector, as her sub, as anything my queen wants me to be so long as I’m by her side.

  It’s dark when we arrive at Cimitero del Sanctus. I hold my mother’s journal tightly against my chest and watch the sullen groundskeeper unlock the rusted gates. The human isn’t pleased about being woken at midnight by a bunch of foreign strangers. Ronan slips him a few bills for his trouble, and we step into the eerie cemetery.

  Elliot rubs his hands together. “Where do you think we should start, Your Majesty?”

  “I’m honestly not sure,” I say, my boots crunching through a pile of dead leaves. “My mother never wrote anything about graveyards.”

  “I think we should take a look around,” Ronan suggests, leading the way. “There’s bound to be something here. Kaleo, Elliot, be on guard. We don’t know what lurks here.”

  We head deeper into the graveyard. Shards of moonlight bleed over sun-blanched angels and old religious carvings decorated in moss. The smell of the dried flowers abandoned on crumbling headstones fills the cool air, and the pathways are cracked with weeds clawing out from underneath. It’s such a shame these grounds have been poorly maintained. I think if the gatekeeper did anything other than scowl at people this cemetery could be a place of beauty. I’ve always found graveyards to be rather peaceful.

  “Your Majesty, look.” Elliot places a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks, and points to the journal. “The ruby. It’s glowing.”

  I glance down at the book. The jewel affixed to the leather isn’t just glowing. It’s casting streams of ruby light around me. A deep-seated instinct compels me to lay the journal on the ground and step back. The light shoots beams over the headstones, and when a single ray catches my eye, the earth begins to tremble. My Protectors plant themselves in front of me, ready to protect their Queen.

  That’s when I see her, a gorgeous, real-life white tiger, staring at me from across the graveyard. Her eyes glisten like lavender jewels, and her tall, regal posture is calm as she gazes at me.

  “What the hell is that?” Kaleo demands, his hand moving to the gun on his waist.

  “It’s my mother,” I say, swallowing hard. My heart clenches at the sight of her. She looks just like the tiger from the memory I was pulled into. “I think she wants me to follow her.”

  The tiger turns around and disappears behind the forest of sculpted angels. Elliot transforms into his grey wolf and runs after her. I grab the journal and follow as quickly as I can with Ronan and Kaleo at my heels. She leads us through the stone maze. My breathing comes out in puffs, and my heart races with adrenaline. I don’t know how my mother managed to communicate with me like this. There is so much I want to say to her.

  Weeds and overgrown grass snag at my dress as I follow her and Elliot. My cheeks and fingers turn numb from the cold. At last she stops in front of a ginormous mausoleum, glances back at me, and then vanishes through the crumbling stone. Elliot barks at the entrance, and I notice the words carved above the doorway. It’s the same inscription the box containing this journal had. Sanguinem vincit in aeternum. Blood wins forever.

  I extract my fangs and bite into my wrist. I smear the blood over the words, and the mausoleum rumbles as the solid doors pull to the side. Unbidden firelight roars to life from the sconces and bleeds into my eyes. With a glance at my protectors, we venture into the crypt.

  Elliot runs ahead of us, sniffing out the tiger. Cobwebs swing from the low ceiling, and the stench of decay lays thick around me. We enter another passage with stacked crypts on either side. Ronan and Kaleo take my hands and each give them a reassuring squeeze. They can probably hear the rapid pace of my heart.

  “Do either of you recognize this place?” I ask, my voice echoing through the granite chamber.

  Ronan, who’s over two hundred years old, shakes his head. “No. But I can smell your mother.” He yanks at the low-hanging spiderwebs. “She led us here for a reason.”

  A violent growl rumbles through the passageway.

  “Elliot,” I breathe, my stomach clenching.

  We run through the passage and emerge into the heart of the mausoleum. More sconces line the granite walls, the rooftop is angular with a rusty stained-glass window, and on the middle of the floor, the tiger sits patiently waiting for us. Elliot snaps at her, his fangs bared and saliva drooling from his mouth. I’m relieved he wasn’t in any real danger. I walk over to them, but Ronan grabs hold of my arm.

  “Be careful. Remnants of dark lingers here,” he whispers, looking around the crypt.

  His eyes land on the ground underneath the tiger’s paws. I follow his gaze to a huge circle etched into the ground. Various smaller sized circles make up the larger one, each interconnecting with Celtic symbols. In the middle there is a gigantic dragon with a fearsome expression and his tail wrapped around a pointed dagger.

  Ronan points at the symbol. “That mark. I’ve seen it before. When that shark pulled you under water that day at the pier, I came upon a sunken ship trying to find you. These symbols were carved into the deck of the shipwreck.”

  Kaleo seizes my other arm. “Please stay back, Your Majesty. We don’t know if it’s safe.”

  I soften my features at him. “We’re not in any danger. She’s my mother.”

  I can feel this deep in my bones. There’s no doubt in my mind that this tiger is my mother. As I brave a step forward, her lilac eyes transform into a brilliant gold, and her body stretches into another manifestation.

  My mother.

  I shoot my Protectors a smug smile. “See. I told you it was her.”

  My heart swells at the sight of my mother. Her long blonde hair flows around her as though she’s underwater. Her amethyst eyes glow like beacons, and her skin is as translucent as the moon. She’s an apparition; I know that. If I were to jump forward to embrace her, my arms would only wrap around the cool damp air. Still, I ache to hug her, to smell her perfume again, to hear her laugh. Death is such a cruel and endless torment.

  She smiles at me, as if reading my thoughts. “My darling daughter, I am so proud of you.”

  I swallow the lump building in my throat. “I have so many questions, Mother.”

  Ronan and Kaleo release my arms, allowing me to step forward.

  My mother holds out a hand just as I reach the symbol. “In time, I will be able to answer them.” Tears gleam in her eyes as she looks at each of us. When her gaze lands on me again, a single drop escapes and rolls down her cheek. “You are the daughter of Dracul Ayris. You, my darling, are heir to the One Throne. You and your Protectors must bind this fate before it is too late.” As her apparition begins to fade, her voice carries in a whisper, “I love you, my darling.”

  I reach out to her. “Mother, wait—”

  Her ghost vanishes before I can touch her, leaving only a gold dagger behind.

  My hand still extended, I feel a crushing weight take residence within me. I wanted to ask her about my father and the royals and what I should do next.

  Elliot shifts back into his human and lunges into my arms. “I’ll hug you, Your Majesty!”

  I smile and wrap my arms around him, disguising my tears. “Oh, Elliot. You’re such a doofus.” I swipe my eyes and let him go. “I don’t understand what she meant by cement my bond. And what’s that dagger for?”

  Judging by my Protectors’ naughty grins, they knew exactly what she meant.

  I glance around the crypt, at the foreign symbols still visible on the ground, and back at my men. “Surely she didn’t she mean in here?”

  Kaleo chuckles. “I think it’s sort of romantic. I guess the blade is to help initiate.”

 
They step toward me, their eyes filled with ravenous desire. Kaleo steps behind me and removes my coat and scarf. Ronan grabs the straps of my lace dress and tugs them down my arms while Kaleo pulls the zipper down my back. My nipples harden at the slight chill creeping through the mausoleum. A shiver snakes through me, tingling between my legs.

  Elliot has fallen to his knees. He slides his fingers up my legs and grabs for my panties. A grin lights up his face when he realizes I’m not wearing any. He runs his fingers over my pussy and caresses my sensitive flesh. He groans when he finds I’m already wet for him.

  For them all.

  Strong arms pick me up and cradle me against a hard chest. It’s Kaleo. I can feel his stubble graze my neck as he dips down to inhale my scent. Elliot tugs my dress down the rest of my body and lets the material puddle around my ankles. He eases my legs out from the dress, his glistening eyes intent on my own.

  Goosebumps cover my skin as Kaleo lays me on the stone floor and kneels beside me. With Ronan on my other side, they each grab one of my arms and pin them above my head as they latch onto my nipples. I groan as they suckle, my pussy flooding with desire, desperate for their cocks.

  Eliot slides up my legs, spreads my thighs, and buries his face into my pussy. I scream out when he sucks on my unprepared clit and slides a finger inside me.

  “Yes,” I moan as he fucks me with his digit. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

  Kaleo wraps his other hand into Elliot’s curls and holds his face between my legs as a show of dominance. I let my head fall back, baring my neck to them. Ronan is first to stake his claim. He lets go of my nipple and pierces his fangs through my flesh. An onslaught of pleasure explodes into my veins, clouding my mind as he drinks from me.

  Kaleo licks the droplets of blood oozing down the side of my neck from Ronan’s bite, and Elliot doubles his efforts between my legs. Nipping and sucking, licking and biting. My body tenses as an orgasm builds. My legs start to shake, my senses tingling from the pleasure. Kaleo pinches my nipple and I scream out, coming all over Elliot’s perfect face.

  My chest heaves as my little omega licks me through wave after wave of ecstasy. Ronan pulls back, and Kaleo’s fangs find purchase on the other side of my neck. The second he bites me, another rush of pleasure surges through my body, curling my toes against the ground. My cum explodes onto Elliot’s face again as he devours me with his skilled tongue. My breaths turn ragged, and my heart throbs, my body spent, my mind filled with nothing but desire.

  Threads of passion pulse through me in the aftermath of ecstasy. I lay my head on the floor and close my eyes, sated by my Protectors’ attention and their touch.

  But then something wet trickles down my front. I open my eyes and Ronan is squeezing his hand around the dagger, allowing his blood to splash onto my breasts.

  Breathless, I watch him pass the dagger to Kaleo and Elliot. They each cut into their palms, their eyes never leaving me, and their blood falls onto my body, each droplet tingling against my skin. They smear their blood over my breasts, my thighs, my pussy as though they are artists, and my body is their canvas.

  I struggle not to close my eyes and succumb to the pleasure of them claiming me. I rest my head against the cold floor again, and I notice something glittering above me. Droplets of gold liquid fall from the ceiling and onto my body, mixing with my Protectors’ blood. Their lips trail over my skin, dotting precious kisses upon my slick flesh, and the liquid from above seeps down like a molten river, bathing me, my Protectors, and the symbol underneath in vibrant, shimmering gold.

  Another burst of arousal courses through me, arching my spine off the floor and curling my toes again. The gold begins to melt off my skin and roll onto the ground, spreading around me in a pool. My heart rate increases, violently thrashing against my chest. My vision blurs as surge after surge of pleasure assaults me, and the gold gathers into a puddle at my side, forming some kind of manifestation.

  Ronan slides his hands under my arms and lifts my torso off the floor. He scoots behind me and rests my head against his chest. The pool of soft glowing liquid lifts from the floor and floats in front of my eyes. Unable to move or blink, I watch the gold swirl into a vortex of shimmering yellows. It sucks me in like a black hole. I’m powerless to take my gaze away from the sight transforming before me. It’s mesmerizing. Otherworldly.

  My eyes widen when a familiar shape morphs from the gold. I recognize the object immediately. It’s the crown my mother wrote of in her journal. She had even drawn sketches of the beautiful emblem. I remember thinking it was like something from a fairytale.

  The blood from my Protectors lifts from my body, too, and swirls in front of me. The liquid casts red shadows along the walls as it splits into three perfectly sized rubies. I reach out to touch one of them, but Ronan grabs my hand and wraps his fingers around mine, holding my hand against my chest. The rubies slowly begin to spin, the soft light reflecting the intricate cuts in the gemstones.

  They are the exact rubies from the journal and my mother’s necklace.

  The rubies embed themselves into the gold crown, but I notice there are gaps where jewels are absent. Before I can consider its meaning, my mother’s voice whispers in my mind.

  [A queen must have a crown, my darling. This one is yours. Wear it with pride, and when the time is right, complete it.]

  As though cast under a spell, the crown drifts over to me and places itself upon my head.

  The instant the crown touches my hair, my entire body seems to erupt.

  My insides twist into an avalanche of pain. There is a clap of thunder around me, the ground and walls of the crypt tremble, and everything, including my Protectors, appears to shrink.

  When my head scrapes off the ceiling, I realize it was me.

  I have risen, and my body is no longer that of Violet Sinclaire but of a serpentine creature.

  I glance down, my crystal-clear vision beyond anything I’ve ever known, and I’m startled to see that I’m now a dragon. My arms have become enormous wings, crushed against my body underneath this small stone confinement, and I have scales the color of moonlight with talons the length of swords.

  I’ve never been able to shift into my dragon form until this moment.

  Now I know why.

  I needed to earn my crown before I could become the rightful heir of King Ayris. I needed to become a queen.

  I look down at my Protectors, hoping not to find them disgusted or afraid of my dragon. A fierce sense of devotion consumes me as they each take a knee and bow to their queen.

  I glance at the journal on the mausoleum floor, my thoughts filling with dark conviction. It’s time, Mother, to avenge you and take back my throne.

  The Blood Castle appears in the distance, surrounded by a sea of stars trapped in an inky-black sky. The crescent moon glows against my crown and reflects prisms of red over the cobbled road.

  “So,” Elliot begins, throwing his arms around Ronan and Kaleo’s necks. “Who’s ready to kick some royal butt?”

  Kaleo shoves him playfully on the shoulder and grips the journal in his hand. Ronan shakes his head and tucks his guns, loaded with silver bullets, into a set of hidden holsters under his suit jacket.

  Shifted back into my human form, I lift my head and make my way toward the grand entrance. There’s something about my crown that has given me an extra layer of confidence, or rather, a stronger desire for vengeance. I can feel it within me as I walk. It’s like nothing the royals can say or do will ever affect me because I’ll soon crush them.

  Just like the crown on my head, the gold dress I changed into before coming here makes me feel regal. Elaborate embroidery adorns the silk. The careful stitches hold diamonds and opals around the hem in a fire burst pattern that shoots down the train behind me. More gold thread and beading covers my bodice, with thin straps and a plunging neckline that shows off ample cleavage underneath my plaited hair. The garment is completely backless, except for fine chains holding a silver dragon against my bar
e skin. She is fierce, with her wings outstretched over my shoulders, her tail curled, and talons extended, ready to dive.

  Ready to kill.

  It was Sorcha who designed this dress long ago, apparently for this specific event. It seems everyone knew who I was destined to become apart from me.

  Lifting the side of my dress, I begin to climb the steps leading to the entrance. As adverse as I am to admit it, The Blood Castle is impressive. It’s a medieval structure built on the foundations of an ancient Roman fortress. I can tell this from the way the type and color of stone changes as my gaze travels up the building to the upper levels. Marble and granite on the base give way to limestone, with statues in carved niches giving the design a classical appearance. A statue of a king crowns the central tower, and the proud ruler watches me as I stride toward a reign of my own.

  Lanterns flicker in the evening air. There are no guests nearby or lingering outside the castle: they are already inside. My stomach gives a nervous flutter as I approach the open doors. We emerge into an opulent foyer with brass columns decorated in a spiral motif. Each pillar contains a winged creature gazing down from the top, their granite expressions surprisingly angelic for a vampire fortress.

  In front of an imposing but intricate set of wooden doors, a single vampire gazes at us, his expression somewhat flustered as he looks over his scroll. There is a gold chalice next to him. He gives us a forced smile as we stop in front of the doors, his eyes pinched as he tries to suss us out.

  “Good evening,” he says, his eyes trailing over my body. He takes in my crown with an almost startled gasp. The extra weight upon my head now serves as a reminder of who my father was and who I’ve become. “May I please have your… name?”

  “Violet Sinclaire,” I say proudly, lifting my chin.

  The vampire glances down his scroll, back at me again, and then back at his list. His crimson eyes narrow further. “There’s no one of that name listed here, Miss Sinclaire. I’m afraid I cannot grant you admittance.”