The Queen's Protectors (A Throne of Blood Book 1) Page 6

  As soon as his mouth connects with my pussy, I shudder. Kaleo’s sucking increases on my ankle, draining me, while Ronan fucks my pussy with his tongue.

  “Ahhhh, yes…” I moan, holding onto the chair for support, my hips thrusting of their own accord. “This feels so, so good. Keep going, boys.”

  More blood trickles down my leg, and again Kaleo licks the trail clean, before returning to my ankle. I feel dizzy with desire and a slight lack of blood. I press the heel of my foot against Kaleo’s chest. He stops feeding and lifts his gaze. I tilt my head to the side and offer him my neck, giving my ankle enough time to heal. He eagerly obliges.

  “Oh God,” I gasp as Ronan flicks my clit rapidly with the tip of his long tongue. I feel his cold breath rushing over me as he dexterously seizes control of my pussy. “Yes! Don’t fucking stop, Ronan. Don’t—ah!”

  He licks and sucks and nibbles me with relentless fervor. Panting in my seat, I thrust myself up towards his hungry, expert mouth. Kaleo lifts my hair from my shoulders and covers my neck with his thick lips. Another incredible burst of pleasure soars through me the instant he sinks his fangs into my throat. It’s so fucking intense I buck into Ronan’s mouth, covering his face with my pussy.

  Ronan barely thrusts his fingers into me when the dam inside erupts. My orgasm spirals through my body and lifts me off the seat. I am nothing but nonsensical sounds as I give myself over to my two Protectors. I surrender my body to their touch, their fangs, their desire to fight for and with me. Gasping, I caress the side of their faces, my eyes hooded with lust as the last remnants of my orgasm flutter through my veins.

  Both my Protectors are bathed in a thin sheen of sweat. Ronan’s lips are swollen, his brow dotted in beads of perspiration, and his eyes burn with voracious hunger. Kaleo’s shirt is plastered to his heaving chest, and my blood trickles down his neck and onto his tensing stomach.

  I remain still for a moment, basking in the aftershocks of my pleasure.

  Their pleasure.

  I can feel their desires coursing through my body like an electric current. It’s static and painful and almost crippling. But it’s also beautiful and so perfectly sublime.

  I run my hand through Ronan’s short hair. I trace my other over Kaleo’s throbbing jugular, and I grin at them. “Now, who am I feeding off first?”

  They both practically jump at the opportunity, making me smile at such eagerness to please me. Their queen.

  It’s late when we arrive in London. And Ronan is right: London’s Mystique isn’t particularly different to the one in New York. I’m a little disappointed when I enter the club. I’m not sure what I really expected—maybe the clubs each containing different themes, or even just individual layouts?—but I feel very much like I’ve just returned to Kaleo’s unit. Everything is uniformly presented the moment I step through the red doors. The same guest lounge welcomes me, the same foyer and dungeon rooms, and even the surveillance unit, which is surprisingly busier than the one in New York, looks the same. I am given a thorough tour of the club. Many VIP eyes turn my way and noses lift into the air to inhale my scent, but I don’t feel threatened here. Not when I have my Protectors beside me.

  The club’s staff are pleasant. The manager of London’s Mystique is a beautiful, tall female with a thick Nordic accent, swirling auburn eyes, and a tight catsuit made of black latex. I am greeted with open arms by the werecat, Kelda, and her enthusiastic team. I’ve already forgotten most of the names of those I’m introduced to, but their faces are kind, and the food they give me is delicious.

  Much to Ronan’s disapproval (he always despises when I opt for unhealthy food), it’s a relief to be back home where I can drink a proper cup of tea and devour a full English breakfast. It seems my recent workout with my Protectors has given me quite the appetite. I remind him of that while I wolf down my smoked bacon rashers and juicy Cumberland sausages.

  “It’s strange that I felt more at home in the New York unit, despite living here most my life,” I say, my hunger sated as I leave the club.

  Ronan and Kaleo flank my side like devilishly handsome bodyguards. The sickle moon is low in the inky-black sky, shimmering against the towering buildings around me.

  “That’s because I was there,” Kaleo says with a smug wink. “I make the New York base, baby. I mean, Your Majesty,” he rushes to add, shooting me a sheepish grin.

  Ronan nods at the limousine parked along the curb. “I believe that’s our ride. Shall we head back to the manor, Your Majesty?”

  “Ronan. Kaleo. You do know you can call me Violet, right? I’m still just me.”

  They pause on the pavement. They look like I just told them I’ve grown another head.

  “It’s such a lovely evening,” I add, half-twirling around and indicating the sea of stars above. “Let’s go to the park! I’m fed up with being kept inside.”

  Ronan and Kaleo tense at my suggestion and share an uncertain glance.

  “It would be wise to wait until you secure more Protectors,” Ronan suggests, crossing his arms. “Remember that anyone could be watching you now that the concealment spell has been lifted and—”

  “How am I supposed to gather my Protectors if I’m constantly holed up in buildings all day?”

  Kaleo nudges Ronan in the ribs. “Our queen does have a point, alpha. It’s not like we can’t protect her. And I hear this park sells donuts until late at night. That’s a plus.”

  I clap my hands together. “See? Now, to the donuts!”

  Ronan thrusts an arm in front of me as I move to step onto the road. When he spots an opening in the slowly dying traffic, he releases me, and we cross to the other side. We walk a few blocks before entering the quaint little park. Crystals decorate the trees, and floodlights bathe the paths in light as crisp leaves dance in the wind. I see people strolling hand in hand, a couple snuggling on a park bench sharing a hot chocolate, and a woman playing with her dogs on the grass. I don’t think any of them are shifters, for unlike the guests in Mystique, none of them stop to sniff in curiosity at my scent.

  I love how people walk about, carefree even at this time of night. It’s almost ten-thirty and still there are people visiting the park. I walk slightly ahead of the men and hum a tune my mother sang to me as a baby. I follow the twisting path to the other end of the park, where I see the small building with a sign reading ‘Dunk n’ Go’. There’s a cute guy pulling tables together and tucking chairs underneath them. I think they’re just closing up, so I increase my pace and stop beside the server.

  “Excuse me,” I murmur. “Is it too late to order a box of donuts? The Big Guy over here came all the way from New York to try one. I promise we won’t be long?”

  When the kid turns around, I feel a sudden impact crash into my chest, seizing the air from my lungs. It’s like I’ve just thrown myself off a plane and released my parachute to ease my fall. The kid looks young, no more than twenty-three. His complexion is light, and his unruly hair is a mess of brown curls, some of them falling into his sapphire eyes. He’s wearing a white apron pulled over denim jeans and a navy checkered shirt. His gold converse squeak as he shoves another chair under the table.

  He’s a Protector.

  My Protector.

  I feel our connection the instant our eyes meet.

  He visibly freezes in front of me and widens his eyes. His gaze roams up and down my body. I wonder if he realizes who I am based on my scent. I’m a walking abomination to other supernatural creatures. Does he hate me? Do I disgust him?

  “I… we… what?” the boy stutters, his face turning pink. “Closed. Donuts. Gone. S-sorry.”

  Ronan bristles beside me. I place a hand on his shoulder to calm him and turn back to the boy. “That’s all right,” I assure him, offering him the warmest of smiles. “What time do you open, and we’ll come back tomorrow?”

  His blush deepens at my question. I can’t help but find him cute. Why is he so flustered? I’m hardly anyone to be afraid of.

  Oh.
Wait. If he did smell my scent correctly, he’ll know that I’m the queen now that my existence has been exposed. I suppose that is someone to be intimidated by. But I’m also just Violet Sinclaire, and I want a fucking donut, dammit!

  “Everything’s probably switched off,” Kaleo whispers into my ear, sensing my disappointment. “We can come back tomorrow.”

  I nod and begin to inch backwards, away from the building. “We’ll come back then. I’ve heard these bad boys are the bomb,” I say, shooting the boy a reassuring wink.

  Just when I think his face can’t turn any redder, it does. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he stutters, “but, uhh, yeah, I’ll be able to make you some tomorrow, Your Majes—I mean, umm, Your Magnificence. Imminence. Almighty God…dess?”

  The kid attempts a curtsy, and I burst into laughter. Continuing to walk backward up the path, I ask, “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Elliot,” he replies, “and hey, I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-four.”

  “It must be that wittle baby face of yours,” Kaleo jokes, turning me around. “See ya later, kiddo.”

  “He’s a Protector,” I whisper to them, peeking over my shoulder. Elliot is still watching me, one hand shaking his dark hair like a puppy. He’s got to be a wolf. “I think he could be my Protector.”

  “He was a Protector,” Ronan corrects me, indicating a set of stairs. They must be a shortcut out of the park. “He abandoned that role a long time ago. He has no desire to become your, or anyone’s, Protector. I could smell the distaste for the role in his blood.”

  Kaleo stuffs his hands into his coat pocket. “To me, it smelled like he doesn’t think he’s cut out to protect a queen. Or any royal for that matter. The kid doesn’t think he’s good enough. I smelled no pack from him, either. Just himself. Poor little guy.”

  I feel a tug on my heart at his words. Doesn’t think he’s good enough? What kind of life has he lived that he feels so unworthy to become who he was born to be? Unless he just doesn’t want to protect someone.

  I avert my gaze to the ground and climb the steps with a heavy heart. No pack, no one to love or be there for you. I can’t imagine living like that now. I guess I was lucky to always have Ronan there for me.

  Something deep within tells me to go back to Elliot. I know he felt our connection, too. I can love and be there for him if he lets me.

  I climb over the last stair. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you any donuts, Kaleo.”

  He wraps a strong arm around my waist. “There’s plenty other of things I’d rather be eating.”

  “Oh, yeah? I do have a hole for you to fill,” I grin up at him, leaning against his shoulder.

  “Whoever said chivalry was dead?” Ronan grunts beside us. “So romantic, the two of you.”

  I snake my hand into Ronan’s. “I’ve got a hole for you, too, baby.”

  He rolls his eyes at me, but his cheeks turn pink ever so slightly, and I chuckle.

  Though it’s rare, Ronan’s cute when he gets embarrassed.

  We step back onto the main pavement. The traffic has died down considerably. Streetlights line the sidewalks, casting halos over the concrete and spiked fences surrounding the park. The limo driver is still waiting outside the club for us, busy smoking a cigarette. I guess we’ll come back tomorrow, and I’ll try to get Elliot to open up to me. I’ll buy every damn donut he has if I need to.

  I lift my gaze from the ground and see a kitsune walking toward us. Her rainbow-colored hair is gorgeous, and I catch myself staring, admiring her unusual sense in style. She looks up from the ground, too, and meets my eyes as we walk in a direct line toward each other. I offer her a polite smile as we pass by, but the Asian girl merely glares at me. I shrug my shoulders and prepare to cross the road with Ronan and Kaleo.

  That’s when I see it.

  In the corner of my eye, a reflection of silver winks in the light. At first, I assume it’s a reflection of someone’s watch or phone bouncing off the street lights, but then I hear the rapid swoosh of a blade slicing through the air, followed by a thunderous growl.

  I turn just on time to see the blade stab Elliot in the chest.

  He shrieks, and his body falls into my arms.

  Ronan disappears from my side and races down the street after the girl.

  I fall onto the pavement and clench Elliot’s body in my arms. Blood gushes from his wound, swelling through his shirt and into a hideous puddle. Onlookers gather to speculate. I wrap my trembling fingers around the blade and attempt to pull, but my skin sizzles at the contact, forcing me to let go. Silver is one of the only components that can weaken a vampire. The poison can even kill us if left untreated.

  “Elliot—Elliot, look at me,” I demand, my voice firm but desperate.

  His blood covers my hand as I let go of his wound and touch his face. I force him to look up at me, but his glassy eyes roll to the back of his head. He presses a limp hand over my own and gives it a weak squeeze.

  “It’s okay,” he breathes, blood filtering between his teeth. “I’m sorry… I had no… donuts for you.”

  I almost want to laugh.

  There he lies, dying in my arms, and he’s apologizing for not having any fucking donuts?

  I turn to Kaleo. “We need help! Call an ambulance or something. Now!” My hands are quaking as I hold onto Elliot. “Don’t you close your eyes, Elliot. We’re going to get help, okay? I promise. Just keep looking at me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Elliot.” My voice sincere, my lips close to his face, I whisper earnestly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  But the boy’s grip on my hand weakens. His body shutters a little, blood spurts from his mouth, and with his eyes still locked on me, I hear his last intake of breath. Desperation pervades my body. This can’t be happening!

  “No! Don’t die, Elliot, please? You still owe me donuts. Don’t—don’t you fucking die on me!”

  Tears leak from my eyes. I feel like someone’s just ripped my heart out and stomped on it with their foot. I rock his body in my arms, whispering softly into his ear, over and over again, that I’ve got him. I can be here for him. I will be here for him. He just sacrificed his life for me, so he can’t… God dammit… He can’t be dead?

  Kaleo kicks Elliot’s sneaker. “Right, omega. That’s enough. You can quit pretending now.”

  I widen my eyes. “You—you mean, he isn’t dead?” I stare back at the young wolf. Now that I take a moment to calm my own pounding heart, I can hear Elliot’s faint breathing and his pulse thriving in his body. The little shit fucking pretended to die in my arms? “Sonuva bitch!” I drop him and let his head smack onto the pavement.

  “Ow! That was my head,” the omega winces, rubbing at his skull.

  “A shame it wasn’t your fucking neck,” Kaleo snarls, hauling Elliot to his feet. He pulls the blade from his chest and smiles at Elliot’s hiss of pain. The wound instantly begins to heal. “What are you, kid? A fucking spy?”

  “Hey, easy big guy. At least buy me a drink first before you get all up close and personal.”

  I straighten from the ground and brush a hand down my blood-stained dress. Why is it that all my clothes of late end up covered in blood?

  Ronan appears beside us, holding the Asian girl by the scruff of her neck. Her cheek is swollen, and one side of her face has been cut open. The limo driver waves at us from across the street. I shake my head at him, then glance at Elliot and the girl. We should deal with this inside the club. I also just might have to punish Elliot for pulling a prank on me like that. Even if he did save my life from this little assassin, I can’t let him get away with scaring me like that.

  I glare at the girl, who holds my gaze, trying to appear impassive. “Now, what the hell am I to do with you?”

  We enter the club for the second time tonight. An icy chill rakes through my body as I follow Ronan into the main lounge. He leads us into the surveillance unit at the back of the building, though unlike New York’s club, we do not enter my mother’s private quarters. We s
tep into a cold, shapeless hallway. Steel doors line either side of the hall, and something tells me the rooms on the other side of them are not as enjoyable as the VIP rooms.

  Kaleo nods to the door at the end of the hallway. I hold my palm against the lock, wait for the approving beep, and then step back to allow Kaleo to enter first. I watch Ronan drag the assassin inside by the collar of her sweater.

  “Can you stand guard out here?” I ask Elliot, whose eyes haven’t lifted from the floor.

  He nods, his expression sullen. “Of course, … Your Majesty.”

  I open my mouth to say something reassuring, but the sound of chairs scraping over tiles startle me. I turn on my heel and step into the interrogation room. With a glance over my shoulder, I see Elliot has shifted into a wolf with grey fur, and I smile despite our current predicament. I knew Elliot was a wolf.

  My smile evaporates the moment I lock eyes with the assassin. She is sitting on a high-backed chair, chained to a metallic table, with a smug grin on her face. Ronan stands at the other end, his arms folded and a menacing glint flashing in his crimson eyes. A single light dangles above them and there are no other doors in the windowless room. Kaleo remains leaning against the wall, his eyes pinned on the girl.

  I see no point in beating around the bush. I approach the assassin and ask in a firm voice, “Who the hell sent you?”

  Her eyes narrow into thin slits. “You really think I will tell you, halfbreed?”

  My shifter bristles inside me, growling and demanding to get out so she can attack the girl. I’ve never been able to shift and see which form I can take—a limitation I’ve carried since birth—but something told me she has claws the length of this girl’s insignificant little body. I take a calming breath and drop into the chair opposite her. She just wants to get a reaction from me, something I absolutely will not abide.

  Ronan and Kaleo move to my side, their tense bodies ready to pounce at my command. It gives me that extra boost of confidence I need in such a ghastly situation. I tilt my head toward the girl and study her. Gods, she really does look like a child, even with the bruises on her face. Ronan must have retaliated once he caught up with her. While I hate the idea of him raising his hand to a female, I can’t exactly admonish his actions. This girl is a cold-blooded killer regardless of how innocent she looks on the outside. I can see her mind ticking away as she glares at me, taking everything in about the room and plotting an escape. I have no intention of letting her go until I find out which royal hired her.