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A Queen of Broken Realms - Rosie A Point
A Queen of Broken Realms - Rosie A Point
A Queen of Broken Realms - Rosie A Point
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BRYNNE WEAVER
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To all my bookish friends who stayed with me on this
journey, thank you for always keeping me going. This book
wouldn’t have happened without you.
Much love,
Bxx
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C O NT E NT S
Content Warnings
Playlist
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Brynne Weaver
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C O NT E NT WA R N I N G S
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P L AY LI S T
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CHAPTER 1
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CHAPTER 2
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CHAPTER 3
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CHAPTER 4
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CHAPTER 5
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CHAPTER 6
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ASHEN
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CHAPTER 7
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ASHEN
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CHAPTER 8
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ASHEN
S even days.
Each one has been more agonizing than the last.
When I think I’ve reached the limit of suffering, the
darkness grows deeper still.
I realize now how close I must have always been to the
edge of this. Guilt and regret were faithful suits I could
wear. The threads never wore out. There were always more
to replace them if they snapped.
The sculptures I hid in the house that no one wanted.
The leniency I sometimes granted to immortals in the
Living Realm. The fact that I never found much interest in
others of my kind. Perhaps these were warning signs.
I wanted something for myself. I shed the skin of shame.
I chose to embrace the love I felt for Lu, and it opened the
doorway to loss.
The shadow of love is rage. And my fury consumes me,
body and soul.
I’m thinking of all the things I will accomplish with the
blade in my hand when a sound startles me from my wicked
reverie. I look over my shoulder and watch Ediye enter the
Council Room, her gaze surveying the blood on the floor
and the broken furniture littering the wide space.
“I noticed something interesting when I arrived at the
library this morning,” the witch says as she rights an
overturned chair, wiping her hand across the seat before
sitting next to me.
I have no interest in expending energy by talking, so I
only offer a grunt in reply. I keep my eyes down on the
blade I sharpen with methodical strokes.
“There were no ghost hosts today,” she continues,
undeterred.
Ghost hosts. That sounds like something Lu would say. I
glare down at the dagger in my hand.
“No haunted carriages either.”
I grunt again.
“Then I heard an interesting rumor. That there was a
decree issued that souls will no longer be used in service to
Reapers. I thought to myself, ‘who would have done that?’
And then I heard that any demons caught disobeying this
decree would be punished by death, to which I thought, ‘I
bet I know exactly where that decree came from.’”
I stay silent for a long moment, sliding the blade across
the stone, though the edge cannot get much sharper. “She
hates that we used them.”
I give no more detail than that. There is no reason to,
and the witch understands. She is always pushing, but only
enough to bend the line of my irritation, never break it.
We sit in silence for a long moment. I think about the
time I brought Lu to the library. We stood in the vestibule,
and she cast her hand across the page of her notebook,
asking about the werewolf soul chained to the door. She
wanted to know what his crime had been, and I gave no
thought to my answer. I said I didn’t know. I never expected
a reaction, but Lu challenged me. Fearlessly. In my own
domain. In the realm of her enemies. And she did it with
kindness. She looked at me not with anger, but empathy.
How this place must have sickened her. Terrified her.
And yet she still has mercy for the souls and demons
residing here, despite everything the Shadow Realm has
taken from her, everything it put her through. I understand
now how much she strives to connect with others, even
despite herself. The loneliness she must have felt during
her years in hiding…it must have been suffocating.
“You look like shit,” the witch says, tearing me free of
my thoughts. “Come and get something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You think you’ll find her any faster by starving
yourself?”
I glance up at the room before returning my attention
back to my blade. “I have more important things to do.”
“Right, like re-killing people you’ve already killed
several times before.”
“Exactly. That is called justice.”
“Actually, it’s called vengeance, but sure, whatever.”
“Your memory is short, witch. You seem to be forgetting
the vengeance you took out on me in the barn when you
killed me with your starblades.”
“Starblades. I like that.” Ediye smiles as though I’ve
brought up fond memories. “I’m not forgetting. Because
that was justice.”
I can’t argue with her on that point. I could have fought
back in the barn, but I had a debt to pay. Ediye was owed
her pound of flesh.
“Did Lu ever tell you how we met?” the witch asks, her
voice quieter than before. I glance up and shake my head.
She gives me a bittersweet smile. “She’d overheard a
human man in a tavern, bragging about how he’d caught
me. His name was Matthew.”
“Matthew,” I repeat with a huff of a mirthless laugh at
the meaning of his name. Gift from God. “I can imagine Lu
would find him appetizing.”
“Definitely. He had me subdued in his cottage. It was
late when he returned from the tavern that night. I heard
him coming up the stairs, and I was terrified. I refused to
use my powers for his advantage. I knew he was going to
kill me for it. And then, all of a sudden, I heard this loud
thud on the porch. In dances this wild whirlwind of a
vampire, dragging Matthew by the ankle. I was just as
afraid of being cornered by her, but she was determined to
be friends, whether I wanted to or not. Great friends, Lu
even said. I just know it.”
A long sigh passes my lips. “That sounds like Lu.”
“Yeah,” Ediye says. Her voice sounds thin and weak. I
hear her swallow and I look over, but her eyes are cast
down from me. “She helped me take my justice. We were
not merciful. And we didn’t stop at Matthew.”
I notice in the silence stretching around us that I must
have stopped sharpening my blade. I turn it over in my
hand as I wait for the witch to either continue or leave her
memories buried in history.
A scuffling sound draws my attention to the door behind
us and Cyrus appears, his gaze bouncing between me and
the witch. He says nothing, just jerks his head in the
direction of the hall. My fury swirls in anticipation. I trap it
in my gut and wave him off. He nods and disappears down
the hall and I watch the empty space of the doorway as his
footsteps retreat down the corridor.
“I had a son once,” Ediye says, almost a whisper. My
gaze snaps back to her but her eyes are fused to her
upturned palms. “He was half human. It was just me and
him. His name was Tayo. It means boy full of happiness.”
Pinpoints of light appear above the witch’s palms. The
image of a child takes form in the shifting, luminescent
grains, like glowing sand. The animated face of the young
boy laughs without sound, and Ediye smiles. I close my
eyes as my head drops.
“Matthew.”
“Yes. Matthew found out I was a witch, a real witch, and
watched me for several days. I didn’t know. He saw an
opportunity with Tayo, and he took it the first chance he
got. If Tayo had inherited any of my abilities, he was too
young for them to manifest to protect himself when he was
in danger. I left the cottage to go foraging for lobelia at the
river, and I wanted Tayo to stay back, so I had a human girl
from down the road come to watch him. He wasn’t a strong
swimmer. The river was fast with spring meltwater. I
thought he’d be safer at home.” Ediye lifts her palms and
blows the light from her hands. “I was wrong.”
Ediye stands and moves toward the center of the room.
My chest is burning with rage for the loss she has endured.
My wings spill plumes of smoke across the floor as I watch
her take a few steps away.
“When I got back to the cabin, the girl was dead and
Tayo wasn’t there. But Matthew was. He said he would kill
my son unless I went with him and used my powers for
whatever he wanted. Stealing money. Stealing booze.
Murdering people he didn’t like. Petty human things. But I
would have done anything for Tayo. So, I agreed to go with
Matthew. I left my home as his hostage. And within two
days, my son was dead. I felt it, the moment his light left
the world.” The witch turns to face me with fierce eyes full
of latent anger, tears glistening on her dark skin. “I took
the lives of everyone who helped Matthew. I killed anyone
even remotely acquainted with him, even if they knew
nothing about me. Lu was with me every step of the way.
She never judged me when justice became vengeance. And
it was Lu who helped me see the path back. We won’t find
Tayo’s light in this darkness, Ediye, and he can’t see you if
you wear it like a cloak. Goddess above. It was like she
reached right into my chest and crushed the last of my
heart with those words. The thought that his bright little
soul could be out there somewhere, unable to find me, it
was unbearable. Or even worse, that he was watching from
beyond the veil and didn’t recognize me in my grief and
vengeance. That was when I knew I had to stop. I had to
learn to nurture my light, so I could be the lantern to show
Tayo the way in the dark.”
I didn't think my heart could fit another layer of sorrow
in its broken cage, but it takes Ediye’s words and makes
room for more. The witch’s onyx eyes bore into me, and I
look away. “I cannot stop. Not until we uncover everyone
who was working with the Nephilim. Not until we know
why they really wanted Lu. I might never find her if not.”
“All right, Reaper. But ask yourself this: can she find
your light in this darkness?”
A flare of fire burns in my back. Smoke thickens around
us. “There is no light in me to find. There is only darkness.
Lu is my light.”
A long, patient breath leaves the witch. We look at one
another for a moment until I cannot bear her empathetic
scrutiny any longer. I turn my attention to my knife and
resume the steady sweep of the blade across the stone.
“I’ll be at Bit Akalum with Cole. Join us, if you change
your mind,” Ediye says as she lays a hand on my shoulder.
“I won’t.”
“I know. But you can try.” Ediye squeezes her fingers
around my skin as though trying to impart her gentle calm.
It’s a futile effort. She pulls her hand away and starts
toward the door.
“Witch,” I call out before she passes into the corridor.
Her footsteps halt at the threshold. I stand, tilting my head
side to side, relishing the crack between my bones. Pain
slides down my back as my wings uncoil, smoke and flame
and sparks. And something more.
I don’t turn around. This is my reminder of who I am,
who I really am, should she try to push too far.
“Tell Cyrus to send them in. I’m ready.”
There is a silent pause. And then the witch is gone.
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CHAPTER 9
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CHAPTER 10
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CHAPTER 11
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CHAPTER 12
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CHAPTER 13
W e drift down the hall where all the other rooms are
now shut, passing a few soldiers as we go. We stop
at the tall ebony doors of what I know is the throne room
from when I passed it with Ediye. Ashen pushes them open
and I enter it for the first time.
“I wanted you to see this space, so you could decide how
to make it yours,” he says as he walks into the massive
room.
Tall, narrow windows look out across the Bay of Souls,
the horizon of the black water veiled under heavy fog. The
vaulted ceilings ascend several stories to slanted skylights,
and the room is filled with gentle light even though they
don’t breach the clouds. In the center of the room is a long,
black marble table surrounded by matching chairs finished
with black velvet upholstery, all facing the dais where a
single throne looks out upon the room, framed by the view
of the anguished sea.
“Well, the room brings the drama,” I say, turning slowly
to take in the tapestries and paintings hanging along the
walls, all in dark colors with pops of red that display many
acts of carnage. I point to the nearest tapestry, which
seems to be one in a group of eight similar works. “Big fans
of impaling, I see.”
“Yes. I thought you should see what kinds of changes
you’d like to make.”
“Burning the tapestries is a start.”
“Noted,” Ashen says, the smile warming the edges of
those two syllables.
I continue on toward the table, running my finger across
the spotless, glossy surface. “I don’t want the throne on a
dais either,” I say as I look at the chairs, trying to envision
the Council of the Shadow Realm sitting around this
innocuous slab of stone. I imagine Ember here among
them, her expression likely smug and self-important after
sending me to be tortured at the hands of Gallus. Did any of
them pretend to be merciful when they talked about their
sentences against immortals like me? Or had they given up
true justice centuries ago? I guess those are questions only
to be answered by imagination. All I know now is that I
want it to be different. I don’t want to just pretend that
anyone else has a voice, even if I may be the person who
ultimately has to decide which souls to save and which to
take. “When we have a new Council, I want to sit at the
table with them.”
Ashen’s voice is as rich as thick honey warmed in the
sun. “As you wish, vampire.”
I smile to myself as I drift toward the dais, Ashen
trailing behind me like a faithful shadow. I draw closer to
the tall black throne.
“It doesn’t scream ‘mercy’ to me. It more just…
screams,” I say, leaning forward to sniff one of a semi-circle
of little heads adorning an iron skull in the center of the
high backrest. I recoil at the musty scent of the leathery old
skin. I touch it with a tentative finger and it’s surprisingly
sticky. “Eww, Ashen, what the fuck.”
“Yeah… Eshkar had a fascination with shrunken heads
and bodily preservation. You should have seen him when
Body Worlds became a thing. He was giddy. It was the only
time he went to the Living Realm in the last century”
“That’s a lovely story. And I am not sitting on that
throne, Reaper. Get fucked.”
“You are a surprising creature to me, even now. I find it
odd that you would be bothered by it, all things
considered.”
I level the demon with a dead-eyed glare. He manages to
contain his smile, but it still lights up his eyes.
“I may enjoy killing humans, but I drink their blood to
live, Ashen. I don’t cut their faces off and make them into
upholstery. That’s just so Leatherface, or that dude from
American Horror Story.”
“Oliver Thredson.”
“Right.” I give him the side-eye and he throws his hands
up as if to say it’s not his idea to make skincloth. I turn
back to the fuck-ugly throne and poke one of the little
heads that has a fuzzy tuft of dark hair. “Regardless, I’m
not sitting on a sticky old skin chair with a crown of tiny
heads.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I figured that might be the case.”
Ashen keeps his eyes on me as he whistles for the guards. I
feel his gaze linger on my face, even when I look away to
watch six soldiers wheel in a structure covered in black
velvet cloth. They lift what looks like a very heavy chair
from a pallet on wheels. Ashen’s eyes are still fused to mine
as the soldiers then step away and he whips the cover from
the surprise.
It’s a throne of polished lapis lazuli, the color of the deep
sea. Seams of pyrite shimmer within like shafts of sunlight.
The rolled edges of the arms are capped with scrolling gold
waves in the exact shade of my mark, shaped to look like
the surf caught in a suspended moment in time. And above
the curved waves that cascade from the throne’s high back,
a stone scepter topped with a golden crescent moon
cradling an eight-pointed star, framed by two familiar
words.
Sunu liiktisuma
May they be bound.
A caged breath escapes my lungs in a thin stream
between my pursed lips.
It’s ornate. It’s opulent. But somehow, it’s still…me.
My fingers flow along a wave that rises at the end of the
armrest to fall down the front of the chair in dripping gold.
“It’s stunning,” I whisper. The heat of Ashen’s gaze warms
my face. I feel his pride ripple beneath my skin.
“I could not really picture my Lu on a throne of fallen
souls,” he says. When I look up, I’m lost for a breath in his
subtle smile. Ashen’s eyes dip to my cheeks and my flesh
heats with a blush. His gaze lands on my lips and stays
there for a long moment before he meets my eyes once
more.
“It’s so beautiful. Thank you, Ashen.”
He doesn’t say anything in reply, just smiles a bit wider
and then gives a little bow of his head.
I test the cushion of crushed gold velvet with my
fingertip. It’s definitely plushy enough to be comfortable for
a few hours at a time. The same gold fabric is stitched
across the backrest.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“Where will you sit? Where’s your throne?”
“I will stand. Next to you.”
I look from my finger where I’m still pressing into the
fabric and meet Ashen’s watchful gaze with a furrowed
brow.
Ashen stalks closer until he can take my hand away from
the soft velvet. “I will not rise from a chair to meet an
attacker. I’ll already be standing, ready to kill.”
“Well, that’s…bleak. Sweet and reassuring, but bleak.”
Ashen pulls my hand to his lips and places a kiss to my
fingertips. His eyes burn with intensity. His voice is low and
quiet when he speaks. “You and I both know that this is the
Shadow Realm. We need to be ready for anything.”
We watch one another, unmoving. The reality of his
words is already known to me. He presses another kiss to
my fingers before lowering my hand, but he still holds on.
I shift my attention toward the soldiers that wait in the
shadows for their next instructions. I nod at the one who I
figure ranks highest among them. “Please take the skin
throne and leave me and my…demon…alone.”
I can almost hear Ashen’s eyes rolling. “Husband,” he
says, letting my hand go to press on the mark on my chest.
I grin as I swat his hand away.
“Person of romantic interest.”
“Hus. Band.”
“Booty call. Is that still a thing?”
“Vampire––”
“I’ve got it! I’ve got it. Bae.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Yes, please leave me and my bae. We have work to do.”
The guards give each other a confused glance before
they turn and depart with the sticky skin throne, shutting
the hall doors behind them. I hear four of them stride off
down the hall, the two that remain standing guard outside
the door.
I turn to Ashen as I kick off one shoe and then the next.
He gives me a heated look in reply. I can tell he wants to
argue about this relationship status thing, but he also
doesn’t.
“This is a beautiful throne,” I say, thinking of the sea
surrounding my home long ago on Anthemoessa as I run
my finger along the polished stone. I turn and slowly lower
myself onto the seat, placing my hands onto the curved
ends of the armrests. The heat of Ashen’s gaze hasn’t left
my skin. “How do I look?”
There’s a beat of quiet, and in the silence fills with the
whoosh of blood flooding through Ashen’s heart. “Like a
goddess.”
A faint smile passes over my lips. I shift my gaze to one
of my hands. “Do you remember the first time you called
me that?”
Ashen prowls closer. He places his palms on my wrists
and traps them against the chair before he leans in close.
“You think I would forget?”
I shake my head as I run a foot up Ashen’s ankle,
drawing my pointed toes in a slow procession up his calf
and past his knee, my gaze not leaving his. Sparks
illuminate his pupils as I hook my leg over the armrest of
the throne.
“Vampire,” Ashen rumbles as one of his hands leaves my
wrist to flow up my thigh. I drape my other leg over the
remaining armrest. My dress dips down, covering my
center that’s already wet and throbbing with need.
“Yes, Reaper?”
Ashen leans closer and takes my earlobe between his
teeth. “What exactly are you up to?” he whispers when he
lets go.
“Seducing you into helping me christen this beautiful
throne, of course,” I reply, my voice breathless as Ashen
kisses my throat. He pulls the neckline of my dress down,
then my bra, taking my breast into his mouth. His tongue
slides across my nipple as he palms the other. He sucks
more of my breast into his mouth and flicks his tongue
across the tight pink nub. When he breaks away to run his
tongue all the way up my chest, he leaves a path of
gooseflesh in his wake. He stops when he reaches my ear.
“You are my Queen,” Ashen whispers, his palm sliding
across my skin to warm my mated mark. He pulls back to
watch me for a long moment. “You always have been, my
Lu. You know I cannot say no to you.”
Ashen has me trapped in his cognac eyes. My skin
ignites with every breath that fans across it. His touch is
like a spell as his hand climbs my neck and curves around
my jaw. He runs his thumb across the edge of my bottom
lip, his gaze still fused to mine. Shallow breaths leave my
parted lips.
“I will kneel before you, my Queen. And I will worship
you.” Crimson flame flares to life in Ashen’s eyes. His
tongue parts my lips as he claims my mouth. His fingers
caress my jaw and I grip the back of his neck, drawing him
closer, pressing his hot kiss to mine. But he breaks away. I
let out a moan of disappointment and desire as he leaves
my lips to carve a line of kisses down my neck.
“I will indulge you,” he promises between little nips at
my neck that make me squirm with delight. He gives one
harder bite in a promise of things to come and then soothes
it with a kiss. And then he pulls away, watching my eyes as
he raises his wrist to my lips. “I will sustain you.”
I close my eyes with a long breath in. I smell that
network of veins, that hot blood as rich as spiced chocolate,
as effervescent as champagne. My fangs drip sweet poison
onto my tongue.
“Take it, vampire,” Ashen coaxes. His voice is luxurious
and warm. It’s a gentle plea as much as a command. I
watch the flame in his pupils brighten as my fangs slide
into the soft skin of his wrist. I take the first long pull of his
blood and Ashen looks as though he can barely contain the
sudden swell of need that I feel from him, rippling like a
wave beneath my skin. I close my eyes and sigh into his
veins as he fills my mouth with his sweetness and heat.
Ashen’s other hand drags up my thigh. His breath is
shallow. I can feel the tension in his chest radiate down his
arm as he tries to contain this sea of desire that threatens
to drown us both. But he keeps it trapped, even though his
heart crashes into his bones and his palm grows hot on my
skin. He pushes my dress up around my waist as he kneels
between my legs.
“I will drink you in,” Ashen says, then places a kiss to my
inner thigh. “I will consume you.” Another kiss, this one
higher up, and then another, and another. He climbs closer
and closer to my center as his grip on my thigh tightens. “I
will devour you.” My breath comes in pants with
anticipation.
Finally, he reaches my cream lace panties. He runs one
finger over the soaked fabric and closes his eyes as he
whispers a swear against my skin. When he looks up at me,
the crimson flame of his pupils is vibrant with sparks. I take
in a long pull of blood, watching as his self-control seems to
crumble away beneath the weight of my gaze.
“Ready yourself, my vampire. Because I will ravage
you.”
Ashen pulls my panties to the side and descends on me
like a starving man. He growls into my pussy before
pushing his tongue inside, circling his thumb over my clit.
I tremble as I grip onto his arm. My legs shudder against
the golden armrests of my throne. I let my mouth free of his
wrist to tilt my head back and pant desperate breaths as he
laps up my arousal and presses against my clit.
“No,” he commands, pushing his wrist against my lips as
his fingers slip inside me. “Drink.”
A shaky exhalation escapes my parted lips as I take his
arm and seal my lips against the wound once more, pulling
in blood. I moan and shiver as the tingling heat slides down
my throat.
“I want to be inside you in every way,” Ashen says, his
voice husky and rough. When he seems sure I won’t let go,
he casts his gaze down to the movement of his hand as
strokes me with his fingers. It’s as though he’s punishing
himself with need, with the hurt of holding back. Every
stroke just builds the crackling intensity of anticipation
until he can’t hold back anymore.
Ashen descends between my thighs to suck on my clit
and swirl his tongue over the swollen bundle of nerves. I
keep my grip on his wrist but squirm as the coiling,
twisting need builds within me. He scrapes my clit between
his teeth and I whimper into his veins. “I love that sound,
vampire. Do it again.”
I stay silent as he strokes his fingers within my pussy.
The silence stretches on and I take another long drink from
Ashen’s wrist. I smile against his skin.
“I said, again,” Ashen orders, and he nips my clit once
more, just a little harder this time. A needy moan passes
my lips, vibrating through his wrist. I sink my fangs a little
deeper into his flesh and draw down a long gulp of blood.
“That’s my vampire. I do love it when you fight my
demands. But I love it even more when you surrender.”
He dives at me again, pumping his fingers and swirling
his tongue, sucking and biting and kissing and humming
praise into my flesh when I let go of his wrist long enough
to say his name like a prayer. I tremble. I drink. I writhe.
And the pleasure rolls and coils through my core. I clench
tight around Ashen’s fingers and come apart as he presses
his tongue to my swollen bundle of nerves, not letting go
until my orgasm has washed through me and left me
panting and boneless on the throne.
My heart feels too swollen for my chest as it surges my
thick, dark blood through my veins. Ashen’s feral need
courses beneath my skin through our bond as he pulls one
of my legs down from the armrest and then the other,
snaking his arm under my knees. In a swift motion, he flips
me over so my forearms land on the cushioned seat of the
throne and my ass is facing him. He keeps one of his arms
beneath my stomach and I hear his dagger slide from its
sheath.
“Can I drink from you, my vampire?”
“I thought you just did,” I tease. Ashen growls and slaps
my ass. I giggle and he does it again, harder this time.
“Salacious creature. Answer me.”
“I am your Queen, Ashen of House Urbigu. My Master of
War.” I pull the dagger from his hand and turn the blade to
my neck, nicking it just deep enough for a steady flow of
blood. “And I demand that you drink from me.”
Ashen goes still behind me. I cast him a dark and wicked
grin over my shoulder, biting my lip between my fangs,
drawing my own blood into my mouth. I love this, this push
and pull of power, of demands and disobedience. I submit
when I want to. I order him around when I feel like it. And
he fucking loves it too. I can see it in the tick of his
clenched jaw, in his dark and desperate gaze. Ashen’s chest
rises and falls, pulling at his shirt with pumping breaths,
his muscles tense with restrained desire.
“Now fuck me, demon.”
There’s a heartbeat of stillness, and then he envelopes
me, sealing his lips to my neck as he releases his belt and
zipper. He pulls my panties to the side and enters me in one
swift stroke as he moans into my skin. My mated mark
warms until I feel every line and curve, every point of the
crescent moon and star.
Blood taps against the gold wave of the armrest. I smell
it fill the channels with crimson drops as Ashen draws his
hand up to mine. He slides in and out and he takes my
wrist, guiding my hand down my body, pulling away from
my neck to kiss the shell of my ear. “Touch yourself,” he
whispers, setting off a shiver down my spine.
I do as he demands. I circle my clit with my fingers as
Ashen pistons into me with long, steady strokes, caressing
the skin that still stings with warmth from his slap. His
thumb traces a line down until it's coated in my arousal,
and then flows back up to the rim of my ass.
“I promised that I would ravage you,” he says as he
teases the tight opening, pressing at the resistance as he
buries his cock into my sex. He slows his pace for a
moment and I know he’s watching his slow strokes, the
movement of his thumb. And then it slips inside my ass. He
picks up long and powerful thrusts as I press my forehead
to my arm as I try not to cry out with aching pleasure.
“Now come for me.”
I let out a naughty giggle and Ashen slams into me hard.
“I already told you, demon. I don’t know how to behave.”
Ashen’s vicious growl vibrates through my back. It’s the
sound of fury. Smoke and sparks cascade around us and
hiss on the floor as he slides an arm beneath my stomach
and lifts me, setting my knees down on the golden cushion
without ever breaking our connection. But even as he
roughly thrusts into me, even as the smoke of his wings
obscures everything but the golden throne, I know I’m safe
with him. I know I’m the only being in any realm who is.
Ashen pushes on my fingers that are already working my
clit as though imploring them to stay there, and then he
plants my other hand onto the edge of the high back of the
chair so that I can grip on.
“That’s right. On your throne where you fucking belong.
And you will do exactly as I say, my Queen.” His tongue
follows the line of blood from the healing wound on my
neck and he sucks on it hard, taking what blood he still
can. When he lets go, his breath fans across my ear as he
whispers his command. “Now come apart into a thousand
pretty pieces.”
Ashen rails into me with thrust after thrust, and I cry
out, loud and uncaring if anyone might hear. The rest of the
realm just doesn’t exist. It’s just my demon and me, and the
gift of this moment, of the things I know are real because I
can feel them. Like my grip on the edge of my throne, my
hand wrapped so tight around the metal that the gold
leaves imprints in my palm. Or the sound of Ashen’s skin
slapping against mine, or the feel of my panties stretched
to the side against my ass, or the smell of sex and ink and
tobacco untouched by flame.
The motion of my hand stutters as pleasure rips through
me and Ashen places his hand over mine, ratcheting up the
intensity of my building orgasm. And then it overflows, like
a torrent breaching a barrier. My walls grip around Ashen
as though trying to pull him deeper and I feel him thicken
and pulse. With a roar he spills into me and I quiver, my
muscles losing strength as my sated desire leaves me
melted on the throne.
We’re both breathing hard and slick with sweat as
Ashen’s strokes slow. His warm palm caresses my ass and
lower back, his other hand still stretching my panties to the
side. He leans back as he slips out of me.
“Such a perfect sight that is,” Ashen says, his voice
rough like gravel. I feel the head of his cock slide to my clit.
He circles it there and I let out a breathless, shuddering
moan. “My cum dripping out of your throbbing pussy…it’s
exquisite.” His finger skirts over my clit in a gentle touch
that still elicits quivering aftershocks in my muscles. He
sweeps up the drizzle of cum and arousal and pushes it
back into my pussy as I bite down on a gasp. “Going to
need that, vampire.”
My nerves flare like broken wires. “You are an obscene,
filthy creature.”
“And you fucking love it.” Ashen’s cock slides back up
toward my slit and dips in before coming out again, this
time continuing up to my ass. He pushes against the tight
opening, pulsing the pressure that tests the pleated rim,
but he doesn’t enter.
“Waiting for a formal invitation?” I ask, pushing back
against his cock on the next pulse. He pulls away before he
breaches the resistance. “Do you want me to write it on
some formal regnal stationery? With a wax seal?”
I press against him again and he moves his cock down,
taking up more of the cum and arousal coating my folds.
“What would it say?” he grits out, sliding his silken tip
back up to my ass.
“It would start something like this. To the Reaper—”
He slaps my ass and I laugh. “Not very formal for a
Queen. You can do better than that.”
“Dear bae—”
Another slap, harder this time. Pleasure and desire burn
low in my belly.
“To my person of romantic interest—”
A growl, another slap. And this time a bite to my
shoulder.
“That’s more like it,” I whisper, and he slaps my ass
again with the same strength. Delicious heat infuses my
skin and stifle a moan.
“Insolent creature. Do it like a Queen.”
“Dearest Ashen of House Urbigu. My Master of War.”
“Better,” he whispers, pressing the slickened head of his
cock to my clenched rim. His free hand snakes up from my
thigh, his fingers circling around my clit. “Continue.”
“Please join me in christening my beautiful throne by
fucking me in the ass until we come together in a blinding
orgasm. Sincerely, your booty call, Queen Lu.”
Ashen pinches my clit and bites my shoulder and I gasp,
arching my back. His teeth release from my skin to nip at
my earlobe. “Invitation accepted. Sincerely, your husband,
the Master of War.”
With that, he pushes in, his motion so slow and careful,
my entrance gripping around his girth like a vice.
“I’m afraid there must be an imposter afoot,” I say. I try
to keep my voice airy despite the shudder that courses
through my body as I take more and more of his length.
“For I am an unwed maiden, living in sin.”
A growl that’s as much as a purr rumbles against my
neck. “You are a brazen minx for a Queen of the Shadow
Realm.” Ashen’s voice is low and rich in my ear as he
buries himself to the hilt of his sex. His finger swirls over
my clit. “You choose me as your mate and yet deny me as
your husband.”
I chuckle a quiet laugh that turns into a gasp as Ashen
slides all the way out and then pushes back in again. “You
haven’t asked me to be your wife, so therefore there is
nothing to deny. There’s only fact. We’re mates. Not
married.”
“Hmm,” he hums next to my ear before leaning back.
His fingers that hold my panties to the side caress my skin
and I watch him over my shoulder. His gaze is transfixed on
the slow rhythm of his erection pumping in and out of my
tight opening. When he meets my eyes, they burn with dark
flame. “Regardless, you chose me.”
“You’re right, I did,” I say, giving him a dark grin before
I turn my gaze ahead to the gleaming gold and deep, wild
blue of the throne. “Maybe you haven’t chosen me after
all.”
There’s a pause of silence. There’s stillness. I smile.
“What?”
The blood surging in Ashen’s body is the only sound
between us aside from the ragged, shallow breaths caught
in his chest. I cast him an innocent glance over my shoulder
and his eyes burn back at me with fury. I smile when I turn
ahead once more, inspecting my nails as though I have all
the time in the world. “Blood heading back to your brain,
Reaper? It’s okay, I’ll wait.”
Ashen roars with frustration and presses his chest to my
back as he pumps into me, bearing down on my clit with an
urgency that makes my core clench with pleasure and
desire. His hot breath floods across my neck, just below my
ear. “I will fuck you into an abyss of pleasure and then we
will talk.”
“We’re already talking,” I counter, and he lets go of my
panties to slap my ass. I cackle a laugh and he slaps me
again. Ashen seals his lips over the nick on my neck and
sucks as hard as he can until the flow of blood starts back
up. I feel it, our connection like a vibration that ignites
sparks beneath my skin, twisting me in a storm of ecstasy.
Every thrust of his cock and press of his fingers sucks me
under, drowning me in desire until I come apart in a rush of
stars, moaning his name.
“Come for me again,” Ashen says close to my ear before
leaning back, pumping into my ass as he doesn’t let up with
my clit. I’m covered in sweat, my dress damp with it, our
arousal dripping down my legs. “Do it, my Queen. Come
with me. Come as I fill you.”
Ashen’s fingers press and circle my swollen bundle of
nerves as he pistons in and out of me. The pleasure is
already rising again. It builds and builds until it feels like
I’ve been absorbed by some other dimension, pushed into
some other universe. I’m melting into a need that has me
nearly mindless, my body shuddering as Ashen thrusts into
me, over and over. He repeats his demand until it becomes
a plea, until he leans close to my ear once more, his voice
low and rich. Dark and tempting. Adorations and praise and
encouragement color his words like flowers blooming in the
shadows before me. My Queen. My Lu. My beautiful
goddess. That’s it. Come for me. One more time. I know you
can do it again. That’s it, Lu. Such a perfect Queen. Just a
little more. Let me fill you as you come apart.
My orgasm rips me apart and I cry out, a brutal, heart
wrenching sound of pleasure. It pulls tears from the
corners of my eyes. It crushes the breath in my chest,
shatters my heart into a million shimmering fragments of
light. Ashen spills into me as my muscles tremble and lose
all strength, my hands sliding from the gilt edges of the
throne. I collapse into his iron embrace as his thrusts begin
to slow.
“I’ve got you,” Ashen whispers. He lifts me from the
throne, still pulsing ropes of cum within me as he turns us
toward the Council table. I shudder with the last quaking
aftershocks of my orgasm as he slips out and sets me down
on the table, climbing up to lie beside me, pulling me close
as we both gasp for breath.
My eyes are closed. My slick forehead is pressed to my
forearm as my heart deafens me. There doesn’t seem to be
enough air in the room. I feel too hot and too cold at the
same time, my body still trembling. And my thoughts are
just…everywhere. And nowhere. Both as clear and still as
the mist that gathers over a lake, and as teeming with
movement as the life that lives below the surface.
“You utterly destroy me,” Ashen says, his hand stroking
my hair and flowing down my back.
I don’t answer.
In fact, other than the breath in my lungs and the heart
that rages in my chest and the tremors that quiver in my
muscles, I don’t even move.
Because I’m trapped in an epiphany. One that Ashen has
banged right into me. Or out of me, I’m not sure. Probably
in, all things considered. It makes more sense, doesn’t it,
logistically speaking. But either way, it’s freaking me the
fuck out. Which I know happens a lot here in the Shadow
Realm. And self-realizations cause the worst freak-outs of
all.
Specifically, the realization that my joke was no joke at
all.
My joke about him choosing me.
Oh, trust me. I know this is probably ridiculous. Possibly
insane. I think we’ve firmly established I’m a little
unhinged, so I don’t think anyone is too surprised. I’m
trying to convince myself that it’s just my crazy acting up,
or that it’s just a melodramatic vampirism to be weirded
out about the concept of marriage. Or rather, not marriage.
But it’s not working. Even though I know we’re mated, and
Ashen has done all these incredible things for me that
imply he chose me all along, and even though marriage
might seem like just a formality…I still want it. Maybe
that’s stupid. Maybe it’s unfair to feel annoyed that Ashen
persistently calls me his wife. But I do feel that way.
Actually, I feel oddly…hurt by it.
And now, in the throes of my freak-out about how much
this actually matters to me, and the fears that still burrow
into my chest about choice and loneliness, about history
and secrets, I remember something foreign, but vitally
important.
I can feel him. And he can feel me.
…shit.
“Lu? Oh Christ, Lu…did I hurt you? I will never forgive
myself if I hurt you,” Ashen says, panic rising in his throat
like a vicious tide. His hands are pressing into my sides as
though searching for an injury, though how it would be up
there I don’t know. It’s not like he fucked my rib cage. Ugh,
what a grotesque thought, fucking a skeleton. I shake my
head, as much to clear that weird imagery as to answer
him, but if he’s seen it, he seems too panicked to care,
judging by the way he keeps repeating his question.
“No,” I whisper. I shake my head again.
“Then what is it? Something is wrong.”
I try to suppress a groan as Ashen rolls me to the side so
that I’m facing him. His big, calloused hand sweeps hair
from my face and he looks…terrified. Legit terrified.
He blinks at me.
I take a deep breath, looking away to the throne,
marveling at how beautiful it is in the dim glow of the
forever twilight beyond the windows. I can smell the blood
gathered in the armrest. I try to focus on these things.
Seeable, smellable, touchable things. Real things.
“Lu?..”
I shift my gaze to Ashen, who looks just as troubled as a
moment ago. The brittle smile that fleets across my lips
only makes it worse.
“Nothing. Just…I don’t want…you shouldn’t…” Ugh. I
shake my head. I give a dismissive wave. I try to smile
again, and I think it comes out better this time. Maybe.
Ashen doesn’t look convinced.
I try harder to wrestle my emotions, now that my lungs
aren’t raging and my heart isn’t so deafening. I just need to
think about other things, like the fucking vat of fangria I’m
going to bathe in with a straw as soon as I get out of this
goddamn room. You know, since fangria has worked out so
well for me in the Shadow Realm before. Maybe I’ll just go
right ahead and add a few bottles of Rakomelo in there
while I’m at it. Christ.
Ediye’s sage words come back to me as they always do
when shit is hitting the fan with this demon.
You are so fucked, vampire.
Ashen rolls me onto my back. He hovers over my body,
his weight balanced on his forearms. The scent of ink
comes alive with his heat and sweat as he grazes his
tattooed knuckles down my cheek. And those cognac eyes,
they miss nothing. They burrow beneath my skin. Into my
soul. They parse out the pieces of me, dismantling my
emotions until the kernels of truth are all that’s left
behind.
“You are nervous,” Ashen says as his fingers follow my
pulse. I draw his hand away, but gently, and his eyes
narrow a little.
“This is the Shadow Realm. I’m always nervous.”
“And hurt.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck off.”
Ashen gives me a fleeting smile. “So stubborn.” The
smile evaporates, his scrutiny crystallizing in his eyes. And
then his expression clears, like sunlight has burned away
the mist. “You were serious.”
I scoff. “About what?”
“Choice. Me. Me choosing you.”
I roll my eyes and level him with a glare. “No.”
“Yes. I hurt you.”
Some kind of brick has lodged itself into my throat.
Swallowing does nothing to dislodge it. “No, you didn’t.”
“Liar.”
My nostrils flare with irritation. My eyes brighten with
red light, illuminating Ashen’s skin in a crimson glow.
“When did you become so annoying? I mean, more than
usual.”
“About the same time you became more stubborn than
usual.” The amusement in Ashen’s voice is a thin veil for
his worry. Disappointment, too. In himself, I think.
I feel like I can’t tell him how hung up I am on this
marriage thing, because even though my heart wants it, my
brain still screams that it’s trite. But I can work my way
closer. I can tell him another honest, vulnerable worry that
bears down on me. Its weight is so heavy that it presses
tears to the edges of my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m
doing. I’ve been alone for a really long time, Ashen. My
memory isn’t enough to tell me what I should do. Maybe I
never really knew. And everything is a bit ass-backwards.
We’re mated but it’s not like we’ve ever even been on a
date. Like, going out and doing something fun.”
Ashen gives a reassuring smile that only makes the
cracks in my heart split a little deeper. “Killing werewolves
was fun.”
I roll my eyes. “I mean getting to know one another
when there’s no adrenaline or secrets or battles. Normal
people fun stuff.”
Ashen gives me a flat, doubtful look. “You called
Scrabble with that human detective fun? He was courting
you with board games and a rubber plant.”
“Japanese peace lily.”
“Whatever. My point is, we are not ‘normal people’, we
are immortals.”
“Even immortals fumble through living. And I feel out of
my depth.”
Ashen looks at me for a long moment, shifting one
sweaty strand of hair after another from my skin until all
my face is bare of obstructions. “I do too. But I know you.
Here,” Ashen says, touching my mark.
“I bet here too,” I reply, touching his forehead. “I bet
you looked me up in your haunted library.”
Ashen shakes his head. I give him a skeptical look. “No,
really. I did not look you up. Aglaope and Molpe, yes. Not
you.”
“I don’t know whether to be envious or bummed. You
wouldn’t old-school, unsocial media stalk me, but you
stalked my sisters? Jeez.”
I smile and Ashen laughs, pressing a kiss to my cooling
forehead. “I didn’t want to know what my realm said about
you. I wanted to know from the source.”
I count the golden flecks in Ashen’s eyes. He shifts to
the side of me and I shimmy closer, his arm folding across
my back as I burrow myself into him until my face is
nestled against his chest, his shirt hot and rich with his
distinctive scent. I run a fingertip across his collarbones,
tracing the ridges and the divot between them.
“You’re kind of great, Ashen of House Urbigu,” I
whisper, and he holds me tighter. “You know, for a person
of romantic interest.”
Strong fingers prod my ribs and I laugh, trying to squirm
away.
“Right, I forgot, a booty call bae.”
He tickles me again, digging his fingers into my sides
and nibbling my neck until I’m a writhing mass of giggles.
And when the onslaught slows, when the laughter fades,
it’s just him, and the love that shines all the brighter
through the cracks in our centuries of darkness.
“From the first moment we met, I chose you, my
vampire,” Ashen whispers to the golden mark that shines
above my heart. “I will always choose you.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 14
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 15
“V ampire.”
“No.”
“Wake up.”
“Go away.”
“Time…to…get…up…” Ashen says between kisses across
my neck, the thump, thump, thump of Urtur’s tail adding to
the persistent universe that seems determined to force me
into consciousness when I’d rather be asleep.
“What is it with you and waking me up?” I grumble,
pulling the pillow over my head. I let out a muffled groan.
“What time is it?”
“Four A.M.”
“Four?” I parrot in an incredulous shriek as I flail to
whack Ashen in the dark. “Are you fucking serious? No.
Hard no. What is wrong with you?”
“It’s going to be a long day and we need to get going.”
The amount of amusement in his voice is frankly obscene,
and the fucker has the audacity to laugh when he whips the
sheets off before I can cocoon myself in them. I curl into a
mewling, naked ball as I feel his weight shift off the bed.
“Let’s go, vampire. We don’t have much time.”
I draw all the pillows over me as Ashen pads away to a
set of French doors that lead to a garden, opening them
wide to let Urtur bound away into the underworld. There
are dresser drawers that slide open and shut, the rustling
of clothes shifting over skin, the near silence of buttons
threading through holes. A moment later, the bed dips
again and Ashen’s there with all his Reaper strength and
demonic persistence, wrenching the pillows out of my
grasp one by one.
“You are a sadist,” I snarl as I curl my legs around the
last pillow in a futile effort to hang on.
“And you are a stubborn creature,” Ashen says as he
jams his fingers into my ticklish ribs, forcing me to loosen
my grip just enough that he can rip the pillow away from
me. I hiss and chomp at the air with my fangs, narrowly
missing his fingers. “A feisty, stubborn creature. Come on,
the corridor in Bran is quite a drive from Valentina’s and it
might take some time to wrangle the hybrids once we get
there. Full day ahead.”
Ashen climbs off the bed as I let out a long, weary sigh
of defeat. “Fine. But your chipper attitude this early in the
morning is annoying as fuck.”
The Reaper tosses me a dark smile over his shoulder as
he strides toward the door, a bag in hand. He’s enjoying
this way too much. “I will be in the kitchen. Clothes are on
the bed.”
Ashen’s footsteps drift away down the hall and I squish
my sleepy, sore eyes with the heels of my palms, letting out
an inelegant yawn. At the foot of the bed is a folded pair of
jeans and a white button-up shirt, a set of cream lace
underwear next to it. A beautiful, camel-colored cashmere
coat is draped across the edge of the mattress. I slide to
the end of the bed and run my fingers along the soft hem of
the jacket, wondering how Ashen ever found time to get all
these clothes in colors he knew I’d like, especially when
I’ve only ever seen Reapers in dark shades. Chipper
morning attitude aside, he’s doting and sweet and
thoughtful, and I get dressed without another grumble,
eager to get to the kitchen.
When I arrive, Ashen has already started brewing the
coffee, pitchers of cream and blood and two black thermal
mugs waiting on the counter. He finishes his butter-
lathered toast as it brews, and before long we’re making
our respective drinks and heading out the door toward
House Ushzu, which he says is the nearest building with a
portal to Bran.
“You seem nervous,” Ashen says, his voice echoing
through the vaulted foyer of House Ushzu, the unfamiliar
black stone shimmering with veins of a mysterious blue
crystal that climb the columns lining the vestibule like
vines.
“I am. I’m nervous about Imani and Cyrus looking after
the place while we’re gone. I’m nervous the hybrids will try
to chomp on you. I’m nervous the werewolves will want a
round three throw-down, or that the Nephilim will find a
way in while we’re gone,” I say as we approach the third
cauldron in a row of seven, the only one not shut with a
heavy lid. “And I’m still not super into these Fire Corridors
of Terror either.”
Ashen squeezes my hand as he takes a torch from one of
the guards and throws it into the cauldron, lighting the
black stones. A shiver of dread slithers down my spine,
even knowing it won’t hurt. “Imani and Cyrus will be fine.
The hybrids and werewolves have been behaving
themselves so far. There’s no reason to believe they’ll
change course now. All the corridors are guarded. And the
Fire Corridor of Terror will be worth the passage through
flame.”
“I don’t know about that, Ashen. The last time we
portalled together to Romania and drove through the
countryside, your sister tried to kill us.”
“Actually,” he says, pulling me into an embrace as the
flames start climbing our calves, “the last time we portalled
to Romania was from the Realm of Light, and that same
night you mated with me. So, I think it worked out well.”
“Until an army of werewolves and hybrids tried to kill
us,” I grumble into his chest. I wrap my arms across his
back and the flames rise around us. “But yeah. It did work
out well.”
The pressure builds in my head as the flames lap their
sulfurous caress at our faces, reaching toward the ceiling. I
hold my breath. I press my eyes closed. A roaring rush fills
my skull. And then the flames fall with a whoosh, smoke
filling the cauldron and cascading into the unfamiliar
room.
The cellar is thick with humidity that coats the stone
walls in a film of moisture and musk. There are a few empty
crates stacked in a corner, the iron lid of the cauldron lying
next to them, covered in a film of dust. At the side of the
room is a stairway, and Ashen leads us toward it.
The main floor of the house is not what I expect. There
are white plaster walls and dark wood trim, Persian rugs in
shades of bright red and deep blue covering one another
across the floor. It’s not a very Romanian style, but it’s
opulent in its simplicity in a way that only fine
craftsmanship and carefully curated art can convey. But we
don’t linger to take in the details, heading straight for the
door that Ashen pulls open to let me pass through.
“What the fuck?”
Ashen’s amusement tickles beneath the gold on my
chest as I take in the garden and green foliage. The sky is
still dark, but the faintest trace of dawn is bleeding in on
the horizon, coloring it in hues of rich blue. I smell carob
and fig trees. Limestone dust. Olives. Baking bread. The air
is crisp, but not the biting cold of the early taste of winter
that we’d left in Romania only a few weeks ago.
“We’re not in Bran,” I say.
“Are we not? Hmm. My mistake.” I turn and look up at
Ashen through narrowed eyes. He gives me the hint of a
devious smile as he takes my arm and pulls me toward a
black sedan where a driver awaits. “Come on, vampire.
We’ve got places to be.”
The driver pops the trunk as we draw close, and Ashen
opens my door before placing the bag inside. Once we’re
settled, the car pulls away into the empty street and I look
around in confusion at the houses we pass.
“Where the hell are we? Are you kidnapping me?”
“Something like that.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I did. You asked if I was kidnapping you. I said—”
“I meant the other question.”
Ashen shrugs. “I thought that was obvious. We’re in the
Living Realm,” he replies, settling back in his seat as
though this is all quite entertaining. I stare at him for a
moment and he has the audacity to ignore me, only giving
another shrug when I whack him on the arm.
I watch out the window, trying to find anything that
looks familiar.
And then I see a sign.
“Pamukkale?” I say, my head swiveling between the
passing sign and Ashen.
“Hmm?”
“You brought us to Pamukkale?”
“I did?”
“We’re in Turkey?”
“We are?”
“Oh my God.” I don’t know whether to be annoyed or
excited or nervous or delighted. I land on everything, all at
once. I give a little laugh of disbelief and watch out the
window as the village slips by.
Before long, we pull into the driveway of a large hotel
with sweeping, curved walls and steaming outdoor pools. A
sign for the Doğa Thermal Health and Spa passes my
window. I want to ask Ashen a thousand questions, but I
know I’ll only get more in return, and judging by the self-
satisfied look on the demon’s face, he would very much like
to continue that game.
We check in at the front desk and head up to the King
Suite, a sprawling chamber with an enormous bathroom
and its own private sauna. There’s a bottle of wine and a
bowl of strawberries waiting on a glass table. I sweep my
hand along the sheets of the immaculate bed. Not as great
as Ashen’s sex sheets, but still pretty awesome. I drift back
into the living room toward a set of doors and open them,
stepping out onto the balcony that looks toward the
mountains and the brightening sky.
“Vampire. We have to go. Clothes are on the bed.”
Ashen disappears into the bathroom as I turn from the
view and head back into the bedroom, staring down at a
midnight blue bikini and a gauzy white shirt, flowy linen
pants and a knit cardigan. “What the fuck,” I whisper to
myself with a little laugh of disbelief. I strip my clothes off
and change, and Ashen sweeps up my hand as he passes
from the bathroom, leading us toward the door.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Do you always ask this many questions?” he asks as he
presses the button for the elevator.
“Do you always answer my questions with questions?”
Ashen says nothing but gives a little smirk, and pulls me
into the elevator without another word.
Before long we’re back in the sedan, which I now realize
is driven by a Shub Lugal soldier from the Shadow Realm,
who speeds us toward the Pamukkale Thermal Pools. It’s
not yet the opening time when we pull up to the entrance,
but a guard is waiting to let us into the hot springs
nonetheless. We take off our shoes and start the climb
toward the travertine springs.
We fall into a comfortable silence as I take in the
expanse of pools that stretch before us, the milky blue
water reflecting the sky that’s beginning to lighten with
shades of yellow and orange. Steam shifts in plumes over
the still surface of the layered pools. They drop, one to the
next, like a staircase to some ancient gods of the mountain.
The limestone travertine forms curving borders around
each stacked, terrace spring. The layers and layers of pools
laid out before us seem to beckon me in. I want to try every
one, but no sooner have we stopped in the first to roll our
hems up from our ankles than Ashen is pulling us along
through the warm water with some objective clearly in
mind.
Just as I’m starting to think we’ll never find a pool
worthy of Ashen’s discriminating demon tastes, he finally
declares we have reached our destination. It’s the widest,
longest of the basins we’ve encountered so far. We stop at
the edge and I take off my clothes, setting them on a dry
patch of stone when I’m done. Ashen places his on mine
and I nearly choke on my own spit.
“What?” he asks, confusion thick in his voice as I cough.
It’s impossible to look hot in a bikini when you hack up a
lung, by the way, but I still make a valiant effort.
“It’s just…I mean…I’ve seen you naked—”
“Obviously—”
“And I’ve seen you with tailored suits, and armor, and
then those snakeskin wings, I mean those are really fucking
hot. Seriously. I like the wings. But why,” I say, my voice
almost pained as I wave my hand in his direction and try
not to cough. “Why is it you look even hotter in swim
trunks? Your audacity knows no bounds, Ashen.”
And oh my God, no sooner do the words leave my mouth
than the demon blushes. Impossibly, he’s even sexier than
he was just two second ago. I cross my arms beneath my
boobs and cock a hip and give him a chastising arch of my
brow like this is a problem. Frankly, it is. Those low-slung
black swim trunks with their subtle diamond pattern in thin
lines of charcoal gray, the expanse of muscle and radiant
skin and lines upon lines of black tattoos, they are a
problem. A big problem. Because I’m about ready to jump
him in what will shortly be a public location full of off-
season human tourists looking to make the most of this
instagrammable location.
To add to said problem, a sly smile spreads across
Ashen’s face as he stalks closer. But despite the ravenous
look on his face, the demon doesn’t eat me alive. Instead,
he pries my hand away from my chest and backs into the
pool, pulling me in with him. The water gets as deep as my
waist and then we lower ourselves to our necks, drifting to
the curling edge of travertine to look out across the hills
and the valley and the brightening dawn.
“Have you been here before?” Ashen asks as his warmth
wraps around me from behind. I rest my chin on my folded
arms at the edge of the white limestone, watching as the
sun’s first rays break the horizon.
“No,” I answer, closing my eyes for a moment as he
places a kiss to my shoulder. “I was close. I was in Ankara
but ended up going East instead. You?”
Ashen’s breath summons a flush of goosebumps across
my neck as he nods. “Yes. A couple of decades ago. I came
to reap a werewolf who was hiding north, in Kizildere.
Once it was done, I walked around a little before I went
back.”
“Did you go into the pools?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Ashen takes a long moment to answer. His left hand
slides over my arm, climbing toward my wrist until his
fingers meet mine, lacing between them. He draws our
joined hands up to point toward the valley. Hot air balloons
rise from the fields. They float up toward the travertine
pools, roaring gusts of burning gas to keep their colors in
the sky. Ashen folds our joined hands beneath the surface
of the water until I’m enveloped in his strength. “I guess it
just wasn’t the right time,” he whispers, and seals his
words with a kiss.
We stay in the warm water, watching the hot air balloons
as the sun comes up. We talk about our long histories and
all the places we’ve been, all the times we nearly met but
didn’t, the lives we took or saved. After a while, the tourists
start filtering through the nearby pools, though no one
comes too close. It’s as though they sense the darkness in
Ashen, some kind of aura he naturally exudes when he’s
not trying to cover it. Unlike the immortals who know why
they should be wary, the humans must keep away based on
instinct. But it doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s as though
they could be in a different realm, just illusions of the
landscape. All Ashen’s focus is on me, on the things I say or
the way I laugh or the expressions I make as he shares his
secrets, his fingers drawing endless, shifting patterns
across my skin as we talk.
So many times I’ve tried to imagine we weren’t meant to
be enemies, even when we were. I wanted to forget we
were a vampire and a demon, hunter and prey. I wished we
were just a man and a woman, trying to come to terms with
one another. Probably ourselves too. Now, suddenly, I
realize how precious this moment is. Because I’m not
trying. That’s all we are.
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CHAPTER 16
Sunsets glow
Silver paints the moon
Their light can’t match
The shine of my love for you
I might not be
Worthy to call you mine
But I’ll love you
Until the end of time
Vampire, so it goes
(Life exists)
Some love
(For only a short while)
Is meant to be
(While you live, shine)
So take my sword
Take my butter too
I’d give it all
Just to marry you
I’d give it all
Just to marry you
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CHAPTER 17
M y sister.
Gone for so long. A painful memory. A blade of
the sharpest loss in my heart.
And now she’s here, standing before me like not a
moment has passed.
Ashen holds me steady as Aglaope clasps my face
between her hands. I weep. I touch her skin. I feel her
pulse tick like a metronome beneath my fingertips. Tears
streak her cheeks. Her inimitable, ancient beauty is alive.
She’s alive.
“Do not cry, my love. It is your wedding day,” she says,
and some kind of garbled sound bursts from me as I crush
her into my trembling embrace. My entire body shakes as
she wraps her arms across my back. I’m breaking apart. I
can’t contain everything I feel. I don’t know what happens
if it bursts into the world and covers it in stardust. I just
know I’ll never be the same.
My sister holds me as I fight away the images l have of
Aglaope’s last moments alive, trying to replace them with
the feeling of her in my arms. I still remember the pressure
of her hands on my chest as she pushed me into the sea.
I’ve relived it so many times that the pathway to that
moment of the past was burnt into my mind, over and over
until it became more than just a memory. It became fuel. It
became a beacon. And now I press my eyes closed and
inhale her pomegranate scent and try to put it out.
I can’t really move, not for a long while. We just sway
together as though we’re stalks of seagrass drifting in the
breeze. It’s not until Aglaope reaches behind me for
something and manages to extricate herself enough from
my desperate embrace to wipe my face with a black
handkerchief that I finally start pulling my shit together.
Almost.
Okay…not really. Not as a thousand thoughts seem to
come crashing down on me.
Aglaope and I have been apart for so many years. She’s
coming back to a world that left her behind centuries ago.
And I’ve been changing the entire time.
I’ve killed in her name and mine. I faked my death. I’ve
been taken, and tortured, and turned into something new.
And now I’m the Queen of the demons, of the realm that
stole her soul.
And I’m marrying her killer’s brother.
…
….
…..Oh sweet baby Jesus.
Full on freak-out commencing.
I’m almost positive my ribs are shredding my lungs like
a cheese grater. Can vampires have heart attacks? I think
I’m having a heart attack. What happens if I go into cardiac
arrest? Do I go to the Resurrection Chamber? That would
ruin this date for sure. Oh my God that would be the worst
first date in history. Not just the worst first date, the worst
proposal. No, the worst wedding. I’d leave Ashen at the
altar by freak-out death and then I’d kill him too and holy
mother of God someone help me.
I grimace and press my hand to my chest as worry
flickers across Aglaope’s face. A pair of strong hands pulls
me back and Ashen turns me into his embrace.
“All right, vampire,” he whispers, pulling us a few steps
away as I try to catch the air with my lungs. Why is it so
hard? It’s fucking everywhere but it won’t go in. “Listen to
the music, vampire. Listen.”
A familiar song is playing. I hear Tessa’s voice and try to
focus on her words. It takes a moment to realize she’s
singing the lyrics to Let It All Go.
“You remember this?” Ashen asks, and I give a jerky
nod. Smoke rises around us in inky black curls. “When we
danced in Bit Akalum, that was the moment I knew I could
not stop myself from falling in love with you. It was the last
battle lost. Even so, I still thought I could keep it to myself.
I thought I could push you away if I needed to, but for me,
there was no more denying what I had already started to
feel.”
My chest finally starts to pull in air. The darkness that I
now realize was creeping into my vision fades as I focus on
the feeling of Ashen’s fingers drifting through my hair. The
longer I listen to the music, or take in his comforting scent,
or watch the scrolls of smoke swirl around us, the more the
fist around my heart releases its grip. By the time the band
has finished the next song, my pulse has slowed enough
that it’s nearly back to normal.
“This is a lot to take in,” Ashen whispers, changing
nothing about his embrace or the rhythm of his fingers as
they pass through my hair.
“Does Aglaope know? About Ember? Everything else?”
“Not everything. But she knows the most important
parts. I spoke with her this afternoon. She just wants you to
be happy.” I close my eyes and press my ear to Ashen’s
chest, relishing the steady sound of his breath. Blood fills
and leaves the chambers of his heart, as it has for centuries
past. I focus on the sounds and the smells, and slowly my
own heart matches pace with his. “We do not need to be
married tonight if it’s too much.”
“I want to.”
“No one will think badly of you if you don’t. And if they
ever did, I would rip out their spines.”
I blow a laugh into Ashen’s chest.
“I’m being serious.”
“I know.”
“Through their throats.”
“I can imagine. Vividly.”
Ashen’s arms tighten around me before they release. His
palms warm my shoulders as he scrutinizes my face. I must
look like trash from all this crying, but it’s like he can’t see
it. “Are you sure, vampire?”
I give him a wobbly smile as I nod and wipe my face with
another black handkerchief that Ashen supplies. “Surer
with every minute, Reaper.”
Ashen’s eyes sweep over my face, hunting for doubt. I
already know there is none to find. When he seems
satisfied, the smoke blows away in the breeze. His palm
drops from my shoulder to wrap around my hand, warming
the gold encircling my finger. When I glance over my
shoulder at my sister, her smile is dimmer than it was
before, her hand resting on her chest.
I turn ahead again and Ashen and I walk together
toward the stage where Mr. Hassan, Cole, and Ediye have
descended to stand in the orchestra. The cello and bass
play a melody that’s both haunting and hopeful as Ediye’s
eyes darken to space and stars, and she raises her palms
like an offering as she creates an archway of light above us.
Sparkling flowers in pastel shades of blues and pinks bloom
and shed their glowing petals, raining down across our
shoulders as we halt before them.
“When it comes to marriage, vampire customs adapt
with the human rites that change around them,” Mr.
Hassan says, his smile flickering like candlelight as he
opens a heavy book to a marker saved with ribbon.
“Reapers rarely wed, even within their realm. I don’t know
of a vampire who has ever wedded a demon. So, we will use
the ancient rites of the Guild of Gilgamesh, and your union
will be written into the annals of the Apothecaries. Do you
accept?”
“Yes,” I say, and Ashen gives a single nod in my
periphery.
Mr. Hassan shuffles as he turns toward Ediye. “The
diadems, sahira.”
Ediye smiles, her skin glowing in the light that brightens
from her eyes, the tiny pinpricks of stars swirling in their
galaxies. I feel something twining into my hair and reach
up to touch a twisting crown of delicate stems and tiny
crystals that feel like droplets of ice. Ediye shifts her
attention to Ashen and I try to subdue my growing smile,
biting down on my lip until I taste copper.
“She gave me horns, didn’t she,” the Reaper says with a
flat glare.
A peal of laughter fills the amphitheater as two short,
glittering horns sprout from his hair. But in just a moment
they split and stretch and divide until they become a low
crown of antlers and swirling black ivy.
“Rings,” the old man says, and Cole places the bands on
the open book. I hand over my engagement ring too when
the elderly apothecary gives me a pointed look. Mr. Hassan
pulls a small ampule from his jacket and taps the dust
within across the bands. “Beata sunt haec amoris signa,
quae latorem in omnia regna sequuntur.”
The dust crackles and disappears as though absorbed by
the rings. The old man then passes the first ring to me, a
wide black band, the edges polished in the same shade of
gold as my ring. I turn to Ashen, taking his hand as I hold
the ring at his fingertip.
“Now repeat after me, azizati,” Mr. Hassan says, and I
nod, watching as he casts his eyes down to the text of the
old book. “Love that gives life to the dying, let your heart
be reconciled.”
I look at Ashen and he back at me, surprise in both of
our eyes. It’s so similar to my spell from the first night that
Ashen and I met, the spell I cast to save his life. Mr. Hassan
senses my hesitancy and looks between us.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” I say with a slow smile. I don’t know what it
means that I somehow knew these words months ago, but it
fills me with both wonder and peace. “Love that gives life
to the dying, let your heart be reconciled.”
The old man looks back down to his book, his finger
tracing the next line of text. “Light that gives life to the
shadows, let your soul be reconciled.”
I repeat the words, slipping the ring onto Ashen’s finger
when Mr. Hassan nods toward his hand.
“When and where you are, then and there I am,” the
apothecary says. I recite the words, and then it’s Ashen’s
turn to do the same. He slides a curved band of black
diamonds onto my finger, then a second wedding band to
follow once the engagement ring is back in place, the dark
stones framing the point of the pear-shaped stone like a
crown.
Mr. Hassan passes the book to Ediye and pulls another
ampule from his jacket. He motions us to hold out our left
hands and positions them so they’re both turned upward
next to one another, forming a cup. He pulls the stopper
from the vial and pours silver dust across our skin. First it
scatters like crushed stone into the crevices of our palms,
and then it rises, swirling as though caught in a tiny
tornado. The tornado flares into a flame before collapsing,
doused in a miniature, magical rainstorm. The droplets
disappear like worms of light into our skin as soon as they
touch our palms. “Terra, ventus, ignis, aqua, amare,” Mr.
Hassan says. “Etiam si astra pereunt, sic amor tuus lucebit.
Even when the stars are lost, so your love will shine.”
Mr. Hassan takes the book back from Ediye. He flips
through the pages and finds the last one where the ledger
stops and the blank parchment continues on. At the end of
a list, he writes our names. Leucosia of Anthemoessa and
Ashen of House Urbigu, wed by Ammon Hassan according
to the rites of the Guild of Gilgamesh.
When he’s finished, he closes the book, and looks at us
with a smile shining through the glassy film of his eyes.
“You are married, young ones. Now warm this old
romantic’s heart and kiss.”
I give him a flash of a smile in gratitude before I turn to
Ashen.
Time slows. Ediye’s fireworks burst around us, every
flash illuminating something different in Ashen’s face. The
tiny flecks of gold that glow in his eyes. The curve of his
lips as his smile fades away, drifting into a sea of endless
longing. The crease that appears between his brows as he
steps closer, his hand sliding into my hair to rest at the
nape of my neck. I feel every wave of love and hope that
floats between us through the tether of my mark, desire so
deep it burns like a shard of heated metal in my heart.
“I love you, Ashen,” I whisper before our lips touch. His
eyes watch every movement of my mouth as I speak.
“I love you too, Lu. My wife.” And then his lips are on
mine, his taste on my tongue, his breath mixing with mine.
Glittering light falls across us like rain. There’s clapping
and cheering. Music weaves around us. The people I love
most in all the world are right here. And as Ashen raises
me up in his arms and presses me to his chest, I know it,
without any doubt. I know I will choose this man every day,
for as many days as we have.
When we part, several guards of the Shub Lugal appear,
bringing out a table and chairs, setting them up in the
orchestra. Everyone works together to dress the table,
pulling indigo plates and polished cutlery and simple dishes
of food made for sharing from baskets. Candles are lit,
flowers are laid out, wine is uncorked. Warm blood spiced
with cinnamon and cardamom is poured from thermoses for
Aglaope and me. And then we sit, Ashen to my left, my
sister to my right, Ediye across from me, her brilliant smile
like an anchor in the moments when I feel overwhelmed. As
the conversation and the wine flow around the table, it gets
easier. There’s so much I want to tell my sister, and so
many fears I want to find comfort in with my friends. But
not tonight. Instead, we spend more time talking about our
distant past and shared memories than the ones we made
apart, or the uncertainty that plagues our murky future. We
just enjoy the moments we have now.
When the meal is over, the table and chairs are taken
away and the band kicks off another set. We dance. We
laugh. I smile until my cheeks burn. My happiness swells as
I watch Eryx and Ediye and Cole together, their relief of
being reunited nearly palpable. I grin as Mr. Hassan leads
Aglaope around the orchestra, her dark hair fluttering in
the breeze. My heart takes up more space in my chest than
I ever thought possible.
“I wish this night would never end,” I say as I sit on
Ashen’s lap and we watch the others dance. His hand rests
on my thigh and I spin the ring around his finger, the edges
of polished gold catching the lantern light.
“I think I’ve had that same wish every night we’ve spent
together,” Ashen confesses, and I lean away to meet his
eyes with a doubtful, teasing smile.
“Even the infamous night of fangria?”
Ashen pulls me closer and presses a kiss to my shoulder.
“You trusted me enough to fall asleep in my bed.”
“What about the night I went wandering at Bianca’s to
paint my blood on her bathroom walls?”
“You let me put my arm around you when I thought you
might never let me touch you again. And then you made me
take my shirt off in your sleep and promptly sprawled
across me like a blanket.”
My cheeks flush as I give him a derisive snort. “What
about the night I killed you in Cairo?”
“Up until the moment I found a blade sliding across my
throat, I definitely didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t believe
my luck every second before that.”
A little laugh escapes my lips and I lean into Ashen’s
chest. His heart thumps its steady percussion beneath my
hand. I close my eyes and inhale his scent. “How does this
one stack up in the ranking then?”
“Second best.”
I pull back, looking into Ashen’s eyes, my gaze sweeping
between them as though one might tell a different story
than the other. “Second best?”
“You heard me,” he says, tightening his hold around my
waist. “The night we mated. That’s the first. You chose me.
You told me you loved me. You bound yourself to me. From
that moment, to me, you were my wife.”
I raise my hands to Ashen’s face, framing it in my palms.
His warmth is the sun to my cool touch, the perfect balance
where we meet. When I look into his eyes, it feels like
looking into all the moments of history, stacked up in the
strata of time. But I see the future too. Our future. The one
that never should have been, but shines all the brighter for
its rarity, as precious as a gem cleaved from the depths of
the earth. “The night is far from over yet, my husband,” I
whisper, and every angle of Ashen’s face seems to change
beneath my palms.
I lose myself in Ashen’s kiss as we flow through the
music and into the night, light and shadow, darkness and
stars.
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CHAPTER 18
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CHAPTER 19
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CHAPTER 20
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CHAPTER 21
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CHAPTER 22
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CHAPTER 23
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CHAPTER 24
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CHAPTER 25
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CHAPTER 26
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CHAPTER 27
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CHAPTER 28
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CHAPTER 29
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CHAPTER 30
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CHAPTER 31
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CHAPTER 32
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CHAPTER 33
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CHAPTER 34
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CHAPTER 35
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CHAPTER 36
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CHAPTER 37
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EPILOGUE
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ASHEN
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A C K N OW LE D G M E NT S
Instagram:
@brynne_weaver
TikTok:
@brynneweaverbooks
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brynne is a fan of velociraptors, the Alien movies (well, most of them), red
wine, and wild adventures. She can relate nearly anything you say to a line
from the movie Hot Fuzz. She has been trying unsuccessfully for years to
convince her husband that they should acquire a pet mink to add to their
menagerie of animals (what could possibly go wrong with that plan?!). Brynne
has been everything from an archaeologist to a waitress, a deep-sea core
analyst to an advertising account executive. For the last several years, she has
been working in the field of neuroscience clinical research.
Brynne has been writing since childhood and has published a non-fiction
book under her real name, but she won’t tell you what it is unless you provide a
live, fully trained velociraptor. When not busy at her day job or writing, Brynne
can be found working with her husband and their son on their family farm in
Nova Scotia, Canada, or enjoying her other passions which include riding
horses & motorcycles, reading, and spending time with family and friends
around a raclette and a bottle of wine. A Queen Of Broken Realms is her sixth
novel.
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A L S O B Y B R Y N N E W E AV E R
Standalones
Black Sheep - dark contemporary serial killer romance
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