Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 10
Having premonitions may seem like a great power, but it is in fact a curse. To see the world in fragments of what could be is a heavy weight to bear.
A lonely weight to bear.
– Carmine Family Grimoire
Ava
One Month Left of the Deal
I blink to clear the dust from my eyes as rapidly as I can before another explosion echoes from my left, sending me tumbling to the dry, cracked ground below my feet. My breath is knocked from me as I land hard on my back. Above me, the crimson sky of Hell is crackling with lightning. Panic edges into my chest, a viselike grip on my lungs that I’m fighting desperately. I roll, pushing myself up onto my feet as I take in the world around me.
People’s screams echo in my ears as they flee the destruction. My eyes track the now wide-open streets for my mates. The bond in my chest is pulsing faintly. I start to follow that pulse, slowly at first but steadily picking up speed until I’m in a dead sprint across what was once the city landscape of the capital of Hell. The place where I grew up. Black smoke clogs the air the closer I get to where the fighting seems to be. Buildings and structures have been knocked down and smolder, blocking my view of what lay on the other side.
Quickly, I begin to climb, something akin to dread starting to pull at me.
Turn back. Turn back, a voice begs me in my head, but I can’t. I must keep following the faint tug on the bond.
My hands slip on the hot metal, pain lancing through them as they are cut open. Higher and higher, I climb the mountain of twisted metal until I’m finally at the top. Closing my eyes, I take a breath and hoist myself over. When I open them, my stomach drops and my chest cracks open.
“No.” The word lurches out of me in a desperate plea. “No, no, no, no,” I chant. An ancient prayer sent to gods that no longer listen.
Before me lies what was once my home. Now, it’s a mess of smoldering remains. But that's not what drops me to my knees, not what rips a grief-stricken scream from my lungs. It’s my mates’ bodies on the ground in front of me. Drago’s skeletal dragon smoldering atop Shadow’s dragon. As if Drago shielded him to their very last breath, and it cost him his life.
I’m unaware of my body moving, but suddenly, I’m standing before them, my hands searching for life. Blood pools under their broken forms, my feet now covered in it. My own blood mixes with theirs on my hands as I sob into the cold forms of my mates. The faint pulse of the bond is no longer there. I feel only a vast pit of emptiness where it should be. A chasm that is going to swallow me whole any moment.
“Wake up, wake up!” I scream. “Please! You can’t leave me here!” The tears pour freely down my face in uncontrolled rivers. Nothing else matters as I beat my fist against Shadow’s large chest, before moving to shake Drago by his broken wing, the bones now bent in odd directions.
Something pulls my attention to the left, and I spy my brother’s broken body, thick arrows protruding from his chest. I rush to his side and lean my head down, hoping to feel even a small huff of breath. But his chest stays still. His body is brutalized from the battle. His once beautiful wings are cracked, the feathers long gone and the bones protruding at unnatural angles.
I stand slowly, scanning the area for anyone else. A little way off, I see an Elker standing over Kallen’s mate, his stomach ripped open. Kallen sits on her knees not far off, her eyes milky white as the Elker feasts on her fear. His end was fast, but hers will be drawn out for centuries. It’s what makes the Elkers so terrifying: they can keep you suspended in time as they slowly eat away at your soul. The pain is excruciating; no one ever comes back from that. Her Hellbeasts are scattered in pieces around them, their bodies torn into shreds that make it impossible to come back.
The gore turns my stomach, and I retch up bile onto the ground. When the last heave ends, I straighten back up and find I am not alone, after all. Having seemingly appeared from thin air, Astrea stands stiffly, her once green eyes dulled to black. Her body is splattered with blood and gore. Ciaran stands next to her, his swords dripping with blood. His eyes hold a strange vacancy like Astrea’s, as if neither are seeing this reality. I go to move toward them, but the collars around their throats give me pause. As if just now noticing me, Astrea cocks her head, almost mechanically, her face devoid of all emotion. In slow motion, she unfolds her power, aiming it at the gates that lead to Gothic Grove. Horror pushes through me as I realize her intent.
“Astrea! No!” I shout.
I hit the bedroom floor hard, which knocks me into wakefulness like a fist. Reality slowly pieces itself back together as the vision unhooks itself from my brain. Sweat clings to my skin and my face is wet from tears. Slowly, I work through my grounding, finding and identifying things in the room based on my senses. Based on this reality.
Carpet under my back. Samhain’s soft flutter of feathers. Drago’s eucalyptus scent. The small cracks in the ceiling.
I repeat them over and over until I know I’m solidly out of the vision and back here.
I sit up and grab my phone. The digital screen reads out 1 a.m. A groan escapes me at the realization I’ve only had an hour of sleep. That vision has been invading my mind anytime I’m alone. Like a poison, it’s been seeping into me and sucking away any hope I have. We’ve already been here for two months, and nothing has changed, nothing has altered the course of that dark future. It’s still looming in front of us, and this isn’t the first time I’ve been left wondering if I’m doing the right thing by not sharing it with everyone.
“Ava?” Shadow’s voice pulls me from the dark thoughts. Glancing up, I see him standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wreathed in light from the hallway outside. “Why are you on the floor?” Concern and suspicion lace his tone.
“Just a nightmare.” I wave dismissively, hoping he doesn’t notice how pale I am, or the sheen of sweat. I beg my legs to hold strong as I push myself up, but my body ignores my plea, and when I waver, I’m caught by two strong hands.
“This is more than a nightmare,” he says, his voice far from tender or understanding. “What did you see?”
I push away from his arms, forcing myself to walk toward the shower and away from Shadow before I break and tell him everything, confess the darkness invading my mind. “It was nothing, Shadow. I’m fine.”
He doesn’t argue, doesn’t say anything or even come after me, but I feel those eyes burning into my back as I shut the bathroom door on him.
(“Something To Hide” – Grandson)
The lights of The Playground pulse in time with the music vibrating through the air. From my perch atop Drago’s lap on the main stage, I can see the bar is bustling with activity, people moving in and out of the VIP hallway in steady droves, and high up on the second floor, the majority of the windows are occupied by various pairings. The window closest to me has a woman bound in silk wraps, her legs spread wide as a man eats her like she is his last meal. Her head is thrown back in rapture. Another man moves up behind the one between her legs but doesn’t move to touch them; he just watches as he casually strokes his hardened length.
We have been spending most of our time in Club Eufori, but tonight, Drago and I came to my club instead. He seems to have sensed my anxiety, a claustrophobia that has been slowly drowning me every day since that vision came up again. Shadow has been avoiding us like the plague—we enter a room, and he leaves. Very rarely do I see him, and when I do, he isn’t sober. The room he crashes in has a permanent aroma of Eufori, the sweet, spicy smell of the drug now burned into my core memories. I thought he would have broken down by now, but given it’s already been two months, I’m starting to lose hope in him mating us.
“Where did you go, rakkaani?” Drago whispers in my ear. He brings me back into the moment, and I smile, my gaze refocusing on the pleasure being displayed in front of us.
Drago’s rough voice caresses the shell of my ear as he pulls me back against his body. His thick length presses into my back. “You're making it very difficult not to touch. Not to have you coming all over my fingers in front of everyone here.” His tattooed hand roughly squeezes my bare thigh, silver rings digging into my milky skin. I bite my lip hard, desperate to avoid the moan threatening to breach my mouth. The idea of everyone here seeing that has me squirming on his lap and ready to beg.
He chuckles before wrapping my long fishtail braid around the fist of his other hand, then he pulls me back, nose tracing the length of my neck as he breathes in my scent. My legs spread a little wider in response, the edge of the white throne chair I’m sitting on digging into them now. As owner of the club, I have a long history of sitting here and observing my court. Since moving in with Drago, he’s been joining me over the past couple of months, but tonight is the first night he’s made any indication he wants to play with me here.
Or play at all.
Drago has done a frustratingly excellent job of keeping his distance, given Shadow is still refusing us. My vibrator needs to be charged every day, at this point. I have no qualms not hiding what I’m doing, either—if I’m going to suffer, so will they. It’s been a long two months.
His fingers trace my leg, each pass getting closer and closer to the apex of my thighs. If the lighting were brighter, people would see the wet stain on the white panties I’m wearing. “You’ve been very naughty, Ava.” He plants a kiss on my bare shoulder. “I heard you this morning, stuffing your tight cunt with a poor substitute for my cock.” His fingers sweep over my center, and I whimper at the light touch, pussy clenching, desperate to be filled. “Such a little slut for it.”
My body feels like it’s on fire, sweat dripping down my temple as I strain not to combust on his lap. Nothing else matters at this moment, my focus only on the way his hands feel pressed against my body and that empty space in my chest pulsing with need. The entire club dims around us, as if we are the only two here, yet I’m hyperaware when he spreads my thighs wide, cupping my pussy possessively as he dips into my soaked undergarment.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You are so wet for me. Or are you wet because of all the people salivating at the sight of you?” He pushes one finger into me, and my hips buck as the heel of his hand presses against that tight bundle of nerves. He releases my hair and drops his hand to my neck, bracketing it and squeezing lightly. A moan squeaks out of me in a breathless whoosh. “Such a tease. Fuck, the sounds you make.”
“Drago . . .” I finally manage to get his name out of my mouth, barely containing the need and desperation behind it. His name is a plea on my lips. It’s a prayer that I hope he answers.
He pushes another finger into me and slowly pumps in and out, those silver rings brushing my sensitive skin. He nips at the side of my neck before licking directly over the claiming mark left by Shadow all those years ago. The feeling sends a pulse through me and my core tightens, desperate for release.
“All these people are so hungry for you, rakkaani, they want a taste of what is mine,” he says. “Look at how turned on they are just by me fingering your tight cunt.”
I didn’t realize my eyes had closed, and I blink them open in a daze. We’ve gathered an audience, people sitting in chairs watching as they sip on drinks, eyes hooded with desire. But it’s the ones who are so obviously aroused that push me over, make me want to come, make me ready to fucking beg. I watch as a shifter in front of us takes his cock out, his knot evident at the base, and begins stroking himself as he zeroes in on Drago’s fingers in me.
A whimper escapes me as I roll my hips, desperate for him to move faster, but he keeps up the lazy pace he’s set. “Fuck, I want to come in your little pussy so badly. Fill you up, fucking mark you.” His fingers start to thrust harder and faster, until I’m bouncing on his hand, head now thrown back on his shoulder.
“Oh, shit, I’m going to come,” I cry. Drago doesn’t stop me as I fall over the edge, my release dripping down into his lap. I fuck his fingers hard until the very last waves of my orgasm fall away. He allows me to slump against his body as he slowly pulls his fingers out, and I follow with my eyes as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean.
His eyes roll back in his head at the taste. “Next time, I want you coming on my tongue,” he whispers, his voice full of promise. I capture his mouth in a deep kiss and taste myself lingering on his lips as the promise of what could be dances over our bodies. Sadness encroaches, however, with the realization that we may never bond like we should because our hearts also belong to Shadow. I pull back off him, a sad smile sweeping over my face, and see the same feelings displayed in his eyes.
I go to open my mouth, to say something, anything really, to try and ease our shared pain, but his blue eyes sweep over my head, his face turning neutral and distant in a blink. I whip my head around to see what has captured his attention and see none other than Ciaran, arms crossed and leaning against the dark wall. My mind involuntarily flashes back to that vision, and I have to force myself not to shiver in fear.
I unwind myself from Drago’s lap, and he stands up behind me. “What is he doing here?” I ask, turning to look up at him.
But Drago doesn’t answer, he only kisses me on the forehead, shoves his hands into his pockets, and disappears into the slowly dispersing crowd of voyeurs.
THIRTEEN
To share a vision of the future is taking a calculated risk. The future is always uncertain, and if one were to share what they’ve seen with others in an attempt to change the course of their vision, they could doom them to a worse future.
– Carmine Family Grimoire
Shadow
(“STILL NUMB” – Ryan Oaks)
The music pulses in my head as I stand at the bar. The strobe lights flashing over the dance floor briefly illuminate the writhing bodies. The smell of sweat hangs like a heavy fog over the room. Right under that scent is arousal, followed by vomit. On top of it all is the thick red haze of Eufori. This was a dumb idea, Drago keeping us here for three months. Ava agreed for us out of necessity, but I know the motivation behind it. They thought the longer I was with them, the easier it would be to finally get me to cave.
The first month was bad but tolerable, the second month a little worse. With one month left, I’m crawling out of my skin.
One month left. I can make it one month, and then I will never see them again. Even thinking that makes my stomach twist and my chest tighten. It makes my dragon grumble angrily at me.
This has been a living nightmare. Being stuck with two people I cannot be with is like bathing in acid every day. And having to be at this club nightly makes my skin crawl. My stepbrother thrives as the king of this dark empire. He is the Hades of the realm, Ava his Persephone. Even in her own club, Ava is a bright light in this city. There isn’t a citizen in Gothic Grove who doesn’t love her. Now that she is here most nights, the club is even more popular. The two of them can be seen sitting on Drago’s private balcony almost nightly, where she perches on his lap, and I watch, almost hypnotized, as he traces his fingers over her skin. Up and down. Up and down.
They are the royalty of this city.
And I’m their dirty little secret.
I can’t remember how I got to the bar on the main floor, but the girl next to me continues to pet my arm. I don’t care to listen to her shrill voice trying to keep my attention. The fact that it can get to me over the music makes my brain short-circuit, a frown pulling at my lips. All I want is another shot and another hit; it's the only way I can stand being here. Otherwise, why would I have left the bedroom I’ve been staying in? With no one home, it’s the only time I can relax. I don’t have to smell them or hear them. They haven’t fucked, but you can smell the need in the air, and it kills me.
Hearing Ava every night through the walls is a special kind of torture. She’s made it no secret what she’s doing at night. My cock rallies at the thought of her sweet sounds as she comes, at the thought of feeling that against my tongue or cock.
“Oh, my God, you are, like, so hot.” The girl hanging on me cuts through the haze of my thoughts again, and the daydream breaks apart around me. Looking down at her, I can see she’s wearing a tight black dress with her tits pushed up toward her chin. She’s got her lips painted bright red and her hair pulled off to the side in an elaborate braid. Objectively, she’s attractive. I’m sure every other person in here wants her attention, but her focus is on me.
“Mhmm,” I reply before slamming back the clear liquid in the shot glass in front of me, then lift my hand up to signal for another. I look back at her as she lights up the Eufori in her hand. Taking a deep drag into her mouth, she pulls the joint from her lips and cocks her eyebrow at me. I don’t hesitate, I slam my mouth into hers, pulling the drug from her to me, as though I’m pulling her soul from her body. My mind swims, my body instantly relaxing as the Eufori moves through my veins. It takes me a moment to realize she hasn’t pulled away and she’s still kissing me.
Her taste is wrong, and her hands feel like tiny claws poking at me in a way that has my skin crawling. I clumsily extract myself from her, and the pout on her lips is prominent as she unlatches from my body.
“Let's go someplace more private,” she says, trying her best to look seductive. For a moment, a small voice in my head tells me what a terrible idea this is, that it will only hurt me, and them. But I refuse to start listening to that voice now and instead fully commit to my poor choices. Maybe this will finally push them over the edge.
My dragon growls at me, muttering something like, Fucking idiot.
“Sure, baby. I know just the place,” I think I say, but honestly, my speech is slurring, so who knows. She seems to get the hint, though, because she takes my hand and follows me through the dense crowd toward the employee-only hallway. The bouncer frowns at me as I pass, before lifting a phone to his ear. I’m sure he’s calling Drago.
“Uh, are we allowed to be in here?” she says as I pull her into Drago’s personal room.
