Vengeful king, p.1
Vengeful King, page 1
Vengeful King
Book Four in the Territorial Mates Series
Mary E. Twomey
Contents
Vengeful King
1. Meaningless
2. Bloody Shifter
3. Filthy Shifter
4. Dank Dungeon
5. Royally Wrecked
6. For Your Protection
7. Chasing Away My Monster
8. Houseguests
9. Shite
10. A House Not Built for a King
11. Defending Against Kindness
12. New Friend Benny
13. Purple Hat
14. Answered Letters
15. Queenly Visit
16. Green-Eyed Monster
17. Awkward Flirting
18. Honey Bunny
19. Silver Dagger
20. The Downside of the Job
21. Something Real
22. The New Guard
23. The King and His Mangey Dog
24. Prisoner’s Plan
25. Want
26. A Poor Job
27. Family
28. Our Bedroom
29. Love and Carriage
30. Someone in the Woods
31. Lalita’s Crimes
32. Ronin’s Treasure
33. Bold Move
34. Lebnest Monster
35. On the Mend
36. Maiseline’s Only Hope
37. Maisie Muttrend
Wicked King
1. The Value of a Shifter
Copyright © 2020 Mary E. Twomey
Cover Art by Emcat Designs
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All rights reserved.
First Edition: January 2020
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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For information:
http://www.maryetwomey.com
For Gwyn Kubiak,
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Who dances and loves without holding back.
Vengeful King
Retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when the world begins falling apart the moment you step away.
* * *
King Ronin doesn’t know what to do with himself after handing the throne down. After one of his parties takes a deadly turn, he realizes his role in leading the territory might not be over yet.
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With a mysterious poison that kills vampires working its way through Drexdenberg, Ronin knows he must do something to protect the people he spent a century serving.
* * *
Taking a job bartending job helps Adeline pay the bills, but when Ronin’s party gets out of hand, she’s reminded of the harsh realities of how hard life is—being one of the few shifters in vampire territory, and a single mom on top of it. Though the policy to integrate the races seemed like a good idea, Adeline quickly realizes that more than just her life might be at stake if she stays in Ronin’s circle.
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While remaining in enemy territory seems like an impossible feat, leaving Ronin’s charming smile is a fate Adeline is unwilling to suffer.
1
Meaningless
Ronin
I thought I would enjoy retirement more than this. I was counting on an endless stream of parties filling my nights with so much cheer that a lonely moment would never find me.
Perhaps I’m going about these affairs all wrong. I tried doubling the liquor, but I’m still watching the people toasting and laughing from a distance, never quite belonging in the place I put myself. Even the seedier elements I allowed into the affair aren’t doing their part to pique my interest, though everyone else seems to be enjoying the ensuing debauchery.
Am I getting too old for this? Did I miss my prime completely? Ruling Drexdenberg for a century wasn’t supposed to suck the play out of me, but I fear that’s exactly what must’ve happened.
The band is far too loud.
The ballroom holds a mix of three kinds of people: those tweaked nearly out of their mind with wide eyes and loud voices, banging into everyone and everything without caring about where or who they are, then those on the verge of too drunk to hold more than a few sentences of lethargic conversation, and finally there are those here to simply dance.
The elaborate crystal chandelier shines on them all, each candle and bulb reflecting on the mirror-lined walls to brighten the place that still manages to feel gloomy, though, perhaps only to me. Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. I throw a brilliant party; I’ve just skipped the lesson on how to enjoy it.
And then there’s me, sitting in my leather chair of importance in the corner. I had my favorite chair moved in because the brown leather is soft and the seat comfortable, even though I’m sure the setup makes me look old. It makes me feel like the king I used to be, surveying the merriment but unenthused at the prospect of being part of it.
I don’t remember doing so little at parties. Then again, I’ve mostly attended affairs for political purposes. Shaking hands and engaging in thinly-veiled threats took up my time. Now that I’ve passed down the crown to my great-grandson, it’s my turn to attend a party for all the normal reasons people dress up and come to these things.
Fun. Socializing. General merriment.
It’s dreadful, no matter how I dress it up.
Perhaps I am a bit out of touch.
The swing band has been playing for six hours.
I was hoping this thing would go three hours and fizzle out, but apparently I’m adept at throwing parties, just wretched at enjoying them.
If I hear one more jaunty tune about vampire life being raucous and amazing, I’m going to cut the band’s tip in half. Life has been anything but, yet the joyous songs keep on coming. Haven’t they been paying attention?
Uniting the three territories by force wasn’t the easiest thing to do, and no one was ready for the massive change. They needed the good medicine of unification, of course, but children often whine over the smallest of things, and this was no small thing.
It involved the three princes from the warring territories to all agree to marry one woman—who luckily turned out to be one of the best people I’ve ever known.
Still, the vampire, shifter and fae categorically stick to their own sides, even though now they’re technically united under their new fae queen. It’s been a year since Lilya stepped into the crown, but actual integration of the territories is remarkably slow.
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“Oh, the lives we live while the others die away.
To be the ones with futures bright while the dogs and fae all fade.”
* * *
I cringe at the lyrics being sung under my roof.
Benny’s doing his laps and stops near my chair, straightening his black suit. “You look like you’ve sucked on a lemon. This is a party, if you didn’t notice.”
I sigh to my oldest friend, the head of my security. “The whole point of uniting the three territories was so the world could move forward. Songs like these that make us seem like the only race that matters feels like a giant step back, and not something a retired king should be promoting.”
“Absolutely. I’ll talk to them.”
Benny’s off in the direction of the band, conveying my wishes while keeping an eye on anyone coming too near my chair. He’s good like that—keeping watch over my safety and my sanity at the same time.
A buxom beauty with too much mischief in her grin giggles at me as she crooks her finger from the dance floor. “King Ronin, you’re looking lonely over there. Come on out and show us how it’s done!”
As if I want to dance with her, who can’t be more than twenty years old. Though everyone filling the grand hall of the royal mansion looks to be in their twenties, I’ve always had a knack for spotting the truly young ones, versus the young at heart.
I was frozen at age thirty-one over a century ago, but after months of throwing these grand parties only to end up watching from my leather chair in the corner, I’m starting to wonder if I was ever truly young at heart, or if I skipped that phase altogether, sacrificing carefree smiles to the doldrums of adulthood.
I dip my head graciously in the direction of the woman, but make no move to join her.
My raven-haired regular saunters to my side with a drink in her hand. “Good boy. Dancing with that young piece when you won’t even take me out on the floor will only make me jealous.”
I take the tumbler from her red fingernails and down half the glass in one go. Her eyebrows have been darkened and shaped to exaggerate the arch, which makes her look perpetually displeased. Though, after sleeping with her for five weeks, I’m positive that’s just her normal disposition, eyebrow-sculpting or not.
“Mia, your jealousy is most unflattering. I don’t dance. It’s unbecoming for a ruler to be that jovial when there’s been no territory-wide victory. I’ve thrown the party, but I don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”
She rolls her eyes, as if I’ve said something vexing. As if I’ve no clue how to have a good time.
She may be right about that.
I’m tired of it all. It’s meaningless, the whole thing. I want something
“You throw parties you don’t actually want to be at. That’s what’s unbecoming.” Mia fluffs her breasts and smooths her silky hair that’s fastened in a pearl clip I bought her.
That’s one of the ways I know she was frozen a few decades ago. Though she looks to be twenty-two, she’s checking her posture and making sure the blokes in the gold-trimmed ballroom are glancing her way. She loves being seen, so much the more if she’s spotted on my arm.
Meaningless, all of it.
“Go ahead and dance, Mia. I’m sure any of the blokes would love the chance to take you for a spin.”
Please, take her for a spin. I’m tired of the slow drip from her subtle needling, asking for more trinkets that never satisfy. More of my attention when I’m positive she only likes being near me for my money.
Lilya encouraged me to find myself a companion. Perhaps I should’ve searched for more than someone who looks smashing in a tight dress and doesn’t hesitate to take it off for me.
Her red fingernails trill up my forearm. “I was thinking a few of my friends could stay over tonight in one of your guestrooms. They’re dying to see your collection of gold statues.”
“Not tonight. I’m going to close down the party in a few, so if you wanted to get in a dance, I suggest you get on out there.”
She blinks at the bulbs in the chandelier overhead. “It’s too bright in here.”
Yet another superfluous complaint.
I’ve no desire to adjust my life to suit her whims. “I prefer it this way. Enjoy the last of the party, Mia.”
One of the perks of integrating the fae and shifters with the vampires is that Prince Alexavier and Queen Lilya stay for long stretches in my mansion. Having a couple of fae around means I now have access to electricity—a novel feature in Drexdenberg. Everyone else is too wary to let a fae into their home, so they live by lamplight.
Fine by me. Let them live in the dark, for all I care. Let them watch the dancing brightness of the mansion from afar while they cling to their prejudices.
Mia scoffs and finishes her champagne. “You’re no fun.”
“Indeed. I’m even less fun than I was the last time you invited your friends over and one of my gold vases went mysteriously missing.”
Mia avoids my eyes. It’s a game we play, in which she or one of her friends sneaks something from my mansion, and I pretend not to notice because she’s still putting out. It’s cheaper than bedding a prostitute, though not by much, and far less scandalous on my part.
Mia slides her fingernails over my wrist. Perhaps she’s trying to be seductive? I honestly can’t tell anymore. “You think my friends stole something from you? You suspect your own kind when you house the fae queen? You know how tricky the fae can be.” She flips her black hair over her shoulder. “That’s some logic, sexy.”
I loathe when she calls me that. It’s like she’s peeing all over me, when I made it clear I cannot be claimed.
Perhaps I’ve let things go on too long.
I move my hand from hers and unfasten my navy and cream striped bowtie, letting the ends dangle.
“You’ll not speak like that in my home, Mia. You know I don’t condone hate speech. Our queen deserves your respect, not your cattiness. There is no finer person than Queen Lilya—fae, shifter or vampire.”
It’s the only dance we do that actually makes me smile. I remind Mia that she’s now subject to a fae woman, and she flattens her red lips to keep from rattling off her true hatred of my great-grandson’s wife.
Destino knows exactly how fortunate he is to have Lilya on his arm—the very first vampire and fae union. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world adores her in the same way.
Mia exhales loudly. “Whatever. It’s not my mates who took your crummy old vase. My guess would be the shifter trash serving drinks at the bar over there. She looks hard up for cash, and she barely speaks at all. Very suspicious.” She tugs at my sleeve to straighten my cuff.
I glance in the direction Mia aims her accusation, unsurprised to find someone not of our kind behind the bar. I make it a point to hire as many non-vampires as possible for my social affairs, since no one else in Drexdenberg will give them work.
Only one shifter took me up on my offer. The shifter bartender is working far too hard for a crowd who will never appreciate the effort from an outsider.
Shifters by nature aren’t as kempt as vampires or fae, but the woman mixing drinks by no means looks trashy. Her auburn hair is pulled into a ponytail that curls gently at the tips. The waves brush her neck as she turns this way and that, keeping up with the line as best she can without verbally responding to a single thing anyone says. Though it’s clear she’s trying to fade into the background, all vampires are olive-skinned, and she is sun-kissed, sporting the tanned complexion all shifters are born with.
Though her standard white waitstaff tuxedo shirt is buttoned up to the throat, I know why Mia dislikes her so. It’s got more to do with the bartender’s generous bra size than her shifter genetics.
“Are you jealous of shifters now?” I tease, tsking Mia as I finish my drink.
She scoffs and saunters away, making sure to exaggerate the sway of her hips, which I’ll admit, is a good trick. Draws my eyes easily away from the overwhelmed shifter.
Poor thing. The line of buzzards in need of a drink doesn’t get any smaller, no matter how quickly she pours and mixes. She gives polite but tight smiles, nods a lot in short bursts, and keeps her eyes averted. She’s trying to be as invisible as possible, braving a roomful of vampires for a paycheck she must desperately need, if she’s subjecting herself to their constant disapproval and snide comments.
When the man she’s waiting on starts gesturing emphatically, his head swiveling with attitude I can tell this girl doesn’t deserve, something tightens in my stomach. Even though she’s clearly being harassed, her lips remain locked tight, holding back any inkling to speak up for herself.
Smart girl, though the sight makes me sad.
“I’m over you dating Mia,” says the only voice that manages to coax a genuine smile from me these days. “When I suggested you find someone to spend your time with, I meant the opposite of her.”
I sit up in my brown leather chair, leaning in to the touch I look forward to when her slender fingers brush my elbow. “Lilya, my love, to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you finally decided to join me at one of my parties? I’ve only invited you dozens of times, but you always manage to be busy. Come, enjoy what’s left of the night with me. I hear my events are fabulous.”
Her pale, dainty hand slides into mine, so I kiss it. “That’s the thing about being queen. Not a lot of time for parties. Plus, they don’t want me here. Let them have their fun.” She leans forward and aims her finger in the direction of the spot next to the bar where a group of miscreants are growing increasingly rambunctious. “Are they okay?”
“I’m sure they will be someday. For now, they’re young. Perhaps younger than they should be.”
“Hmm.” Lilya’s wearing the maroon cloak I got her, the hood up and her lavender curls tucked into the velvet. I understand why she hides who she is, but it hardens off any softness to my smile. The fae are so pale, they nearly glow. There’s precious little Lilya can do to blend in to a crowd, so she’s taken to wearing her cloak indoors to cover hear more noticeable features.
