Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 2
Drago
The house is quiet as I meander through the darkened halls, the party all but over, save for the few stragglers who are still too fucked up to figure out how to leave. My mother has long since gone to bed with her piece-of-shit husband. While I should be heading out to do my own nefarious deeds, I find I can’t escape the idea of Shadow. It slithers restlessly through my veins, the need to see him, to touch him. I’m proud of myself for not following him when he ran from me this evening, because if there is one thing I love, it’s catching prey.
However, I’m not an idiot—the moment I turned around and saw his father glaring in our direction, I knew why he had fled. When we kill him, I hope we skin him slowly before we let our flames eat him, my dragon rumbles. I smile at the thought.
I hadn’t needed to follow my mother here. Yes, she had asked, but I could have said no. However, something had tugged at me and urged me to follow her. So, I did. Only to figure out what a piece of shit her new husband is. I had heard of Julien in passing, all dragons have, but I had never had dealings with him directly. If I had, he would probably have been dead long ago. Now, I find myself in a peculiar position. One that, if played right, could gain me power over the city. Julien may be an alpha, but I answer to a higher god—not that he knows that. Not that anyone knows that.
The path to my obsession is dark, the hallway lights extinguished. But I don’t need my eyes right now. I’m not even to his door yet and I can already smell him. It’s wafting down the hallway like a siren’s call, luring me to a demise I don’t care to avoid. My mind flashes back to the last time I did this. His cock in my mouth was unexpected, to be honest, but now that I’ve tasted him, I need more. I need to find out what it’s like to be inside him.
I don’t pause at his door, I just push it open. The light is dim, barely enough to see around the room, but his eyes are wide open, luminous in the darkened atmosphere. His whiskey eyes don’t show any shock at seeing me . . . in fact, they show such a variety of emotion, it’s hard for me to track them all. But the one they land on looks like the cat who got caught with the canary. My hand rubs absently at my chest as I step over the threshold and let the door click shut behind me, then flip the lock. I step closer to him and take in his form. He's shirtless with a thin blanket over his lower half. It does nothing to hide his cock standing at attention.
“And what were you doing?” I purr, stopping directly at the end of his bed.
His dark hair falls into his eyes, cheeks blushing red. “Nothing. Why are you in my room?”
“Tsk, tsk. I asked you a question.” I allow myself to sit on the tiny bed, the twin mattress barely able to fit him alone, much less two of us. I lean forward slightly, invading his space even more. “It looks to me like you were about to be very naughty and fuck your own hand.”
His body is tense, every muscle poised to run. If he runs, I won’t be able to control myself, I’ll take him right here. Slowly, I pull the thin blanket off his body, causing his hard cock to bob when the material pulls free, exposing him fully. A bead of precum has already formed. I swipe my finger over it and pop it into my mouth, never allowing my eyes to leave his. “Who were you thinking of?” I grab his length and slowly work my hand up and down. His muscles are still impossibly tense, his breathing heavy.
“Fuck,” he hisses as I twist and pull at a torturously slow pace.
“Yes, I would like to do that. I would like to bury my cock in your tight ass and hear you scream my name.” I lean forward and lick up his shaft, taking his head into my mouth. His hips jerk upward, but I pull off him. “But to get any of that, tell me who you were thinking of.”
“I was thinking of some random girl at the party. Fucking her,” he growls.
I lunge forward, my eyes blazing and fist now circling his neck. “Tell me again how you were thinking of some cunt and not me.” I squeeze as I straddle him and grind down hard on his length. “Tell me how you weren’t thinking about your cock in my mouth.” I lean down close and allow my pierced tongue to flick out against his cheek as I lick upward.
A deep, throaty growl emanates from him as he tries to push up with his hips. “Fuck off, Drago.”
I lean back, still holding his throat, and smile at the image laid out before me. “Fuck, my hand looks good around you. You want this to stop? You say, ‘red,’ got it?” He nods, but I shake my head. “I want to hear it.”
For a moment, I think he’ll say no, that he won’t agree to play, but then he says the most beautiful words: “Yes, sir.”
Shadow
The air is stagnant around me, hot and sticky with the scent of my own sweat, blood, and piss. I’m not sure how long I’ve been down here in my little cage. All I know is, my father has used some fucking witch magic to keep me from healing. Even without showing my dragon, I still have the ability to heal rapidly, which caused great offense to him after he spent hours taking his whip to me. Hence the sickly sweet-smelling potion that is currently dripping down the chains attached to my arms.
Out of my less-swollen eye, I can see the flickering light above me, Why does every room like this have flickering lights? Can’t they fix this shit? The thought pulls a chuckle from me that burns my cracked ribs, causing me to wince. I’m ninety percent sure my father has forgotten about me at this point; it feels like days have passed since he’s been down here. But maybe it’s only been a few hours. All I know is, my whole body burns and aches. The iron chains around my wrists bite down hard with no give, keeping my arms extended at an awful angle above my head.
The only thing that has kept me sane has been the memory of Drago. The memory of his hands moving over my body, his teeth nipping at my tender areas, his wicked tongue spilling beautiful promises into my ears, and that thick cock of his bringing me so much pleasure. At first, it was purely physical, but somewhere along the way, it became more. Stolen moments in the evenings turned into hours of talking, whether in person or over text, until we seemed to be in constant communication. At least until I got dragged here.
Fuck, I hope he isn’t worried.
My father, the bastard that he is, seems to know something is going on between us. He sends Drago out of the house whenever he brings me here, which makes me wonder how he has managed to get him out of the house for this long. Surely, at this point, Drago had to have returned home, right?
Unless it really has only been a few hours. Time is a mindfuck down here. Before Drago, I had no desire to mark the passage of time, but now? Now, I count the minutes to get back to him. He’s awoken something in me that has made me feel something other than despair and hatred for myself. Now that I’ve had a taste of it, I don’t want to go a day without it.
I twist my head around, trying to relieve the pressure on my shoulders, but it only manages to show me how stiff I’ve become. My attention is pulled from my misery by the door behind me creaking open. An involuntary flinch pushes through me that rattles the chains holding me to the bar across the ceiling.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Drago’s voice echoes through the room.
My chest cracks open when I see him move into my view, watch his eyes catalog every single cut or bruise on my body. The promise of swift retribution is painted across his beautiful face.
He reaches up and snaps the chains in one swift movement, deftly catching my body before I hit the ground. He cradles me to his chest, which feels impressive given my height, as he moves us out the door. My eyes snag on the dead guard next to the door and a sick satisfaction pushes through me.
“I’m never leaving you alone here again,” he promises.
And even if it’s selfish and dangerous, I let him make that promise and pray he keeps it.
He does.
. . . for a while
Shadow (twenty-two years old)
(“In the End” – Linkin Park)
The stone floor under me is stained and cracked, pieces of rock chipping up more and more each time I’m down here. Overhead, the light flickers and buzzes like a swarm of bees, causing a migraine to start creeping in. My wrists ache from the shackles I’ve had around them for the last few days, and my tongue feels like sandpaper from the lack of water. The air around me smells like sweat and mold, guaranteeing that even if I had been fed, I would have puked it up at this point.
My father, Julien Rosewood, stands over me, heaving with exertion. His massive body has lost some of its muscle over the years, but he’s no less powerful. Sweat beads on his upper lip and drips down his forehead. The displeasure and annoyance are evident on his face as he takes a drag of his cigarette. My body shakes with exhaustion from my father trying to force my transformation, his alpha magic ripping into me over and over again. The brutal beast under his skin refuses to take no for an answer, and it’s been a long time since I’ve endured this type of treatment. Ever since Drago found me, he’s kept me out of my father’s reaches. Until today.
“I should have known you would be a worthless piece of shit. Thank God, I have your stepbrother, or my empire would be doomed.” He kicks me in the stomach, and my body curls in on itself against the pain.
Normally, by my age, I would be shifting all the time, but I’ve held back. He believes I have no power, that my dragon is too weak to come forth. But the truth is, I have far too much. The promise I made to my mother haunts me in these moments. Like a wailing ghost, it sits and mocks me as I take the abuse over and over again. My love for my mother has turned bitter at this point, her memory a curse because of this damn promise.
My dragon is angry, his feral rage always riding me, never giving me a moment's rest. Now, he is so volatile that I have no hope of control when he is finally unleashed.
You let him control us, we could kill.
Its voice is always so loud in my head that it now blurs with my own inner dialogue. I don’t know where his emotions start and mine end. We are a blur of contempt and hostility.
My father drops his cigarette on me, the end burning into my skin. I want to rage or cry or fight, anything really, but my mother’s voice moves through my head again, reminding me of that fucking promise. He leans down and grabs my chin, forcing my eyes up.
Please don’t flash gold, I beg.
You’re fucking weak. Let us out. Let us show him who we truly are, he counters.
My dragon rattles his cage. If my father learns how powerful I am, he’ll either kill me or force me into his service for the rest of my life. While his dragon is powerful, he’s getting old and needs someone like me to help him maintain his rule. Dragons have a long, painful history of being forced into servitude, and while Hell no longer buys and enslaves us, my father still holds relics from that time that would make controlling me easy. Keep it together. Drago will come. Just keep it together. Think about that night in the cabin.
He leans down, his putrid breath across my face. “You think your little boyfriend is coming to rescue you?” Shock must move over my face, because my father’s lips shift into an evil grin. “Yeah, I’m not as dumb as you two think I am. You corrupted him, ruined him. You are an infection in this house that needs to be purged.”
He snaps his fingers, and the scent of a vampire invades my nostrils. Renewed energy pulses through me as I whirl around, but two men are already grabbing my arms and roughly hoisting my exhausted body off the ground. “You’ll be Alexi’s problem now.”
“What?” I ask, fighting against the two immortals holding me. “What do you mean?”
He pulls another cigarette out and lights it, taking a deep drag before blowing it out in my face. My father’s dark eyes peer into mine. His head is shaved, but if it weren’t, we would have the same black hair. “You have your mother's eyes,” he says, almost like a curse. “You should have died that day.”
Don’t react. Don’t react. I bite the inside of my cheek to focus on the physical pain over the emotional pain. Because I can’t argue with him. It really should have been me who died that day, or any day following.
“Drago!” he yells abruptly.
My stepbrother meanders out of the shadows, his white hair gleaming in the light. Even in this dingy cell, he looks beautiful. My chest pulls toward him. He looks over at me, emotion briefly flashing in his eyes before a mask of indifference slips back on. My mind flashes to our stolen moments together. Sweat-slicked bodies. Moans of pleasure. The feeling of Drago’s pierced cock in me. Moments of gentleness as he held me and let me break apart. Those stolen moments have kept me alive through this hell for the past two years. And I’ve let myself fall for him. Despite everything, I let my heart fall for him.
“What?” His flat voice conveys no emotion. Utter boredom smooths his face. But I can see the slight clench of his fist, the only tell that he is angry.
My father turns to him but motions toward me with a hand. “Shadow is leaving. I’ve made a deal with Alexi Helvig. All he wanted was a shifter to use for some experiments. As Shadow has shown no ability to shift, he’ll be going. It’s all he’s good for. In exchange, he will leave our empire alone.”
Worthless. No one will ever love you. This time, I know it’s my voice saying those things, my own demon, not my dragon. He is sitting quietly in his home, seething.
I bite hard into my cheek again. The tang of blood floods my mouth.
Drago frowns, those blue eyes of his narrowing. “You sold your own son?”
I catch his gaze and hope he can see in my eyes that I am begging him to do something. His own blue eyes flare briefly. He might not know why I'm hiding my power, but I thought he would be my ally in this. I thought he felt something for me. Those eyes lock on mine for only a second longer before they shift back to my father.
“He is no longer my son,” my father says. It doesn’t matter that I hate my father, it still cuts me deep when he utters those words. And the very small part of me that was holding out hope is extinguished.
I watch my father move away, his back toward me. Drago looks at me, panic flashing over his face, followed by cold rage and back to boredom. All in the span of a moment that I would have missed, had I not been watching him. The word please pushes to my tongue, but I can’t seem to beg him to save me. Can’t seem to make my mouth open.
Because I deserve this. I deserve whatever fate Alexi has in store for me. Drago knows this, and that’s why he won’t move to help me. That’s why I won’t beg for help.
I don’t even realize I have been pulling against the two vampires holding me until the fight leaves my body and I go limp, dangling between the two supernaturals. Despite the feeling of my heart breaking into a thousand pieces, I keep my eyes trained on Drago, a grounding force in this maelstrom. When another vampire moves in behind us, Drago’s eyes flare with fear and it almost sounds like he yells out my name, but then my neck is pushed roughly to the side and a glint of metal is the only warning I get before I feel the pinch of the needle entering me. Immediately, my world tunnels and my body starts to feel fuzzy. When my captors drop me back to the ground, I don’t feel it. With my last reserve of energy, I think I call for Drago, but my mouth feels wrong.
My vision swims, but I don’t miss Drago suddenly by my side, his hands black. A thud echoes to my right, and I drag my check along the ground to turn my head. I come face to face with one of the vampires that was holding me. Black veins run up and down his flesh and blood drips from his eyes and mouth. Screams echo through the cavern. No, not screams. A single scream.
Drago, yelling my name.
I force my head to turn back over, and I can see my father’s men holding tightly onto Drago as he struggles against them. He manages to drop one with that magic in his hands, but the fallen thug is quickly replaced. My eyelids blink slower. I’m losing the battle against whatever drugs they forced into me. In my last moment of consciousness, I see my father slam a needle into Drago, subduing him. And I think in that moment, my whole world falls apart.
TWO
The royal family of Hell have guarded their magic for as long as the covens have existed. They alone hold the power to open or close the gates of Hell.
As with all things, this power should be harnessed for the good of the coven.
– Mori Family Grimoire
Ava
(“Clint Eastwood” – Gorillaz)
The warm night air moves through the open window, bringing with it the scent of the jasmine flowers outside, which slowly replaces the musty, old smell of the house we are in. The soft lap of the lake can be heard just under the soft music Jackson is playing. A wood-paneled wall supports my weight as I watch my brother take a long drag off the red cigarette. He holds the hit in so long, it begs the question of how powerful his lungs are. The crimson smoke curls around his face, obscuring it. My head feels fuzzy just from standing in the smoke-filled room; a soft haze floats over my body, making me feel disconnected and soft.
Arcanna is lounging with her long legs up against the wall while she lays with her hair spread out in a halo around her head. I fidget nervously with my sweatshirt. This is the first time I’ve actually been invited to hang out with my brother and his friends, not just snuck myself into their gathering. The prince of Hell has always been allowed to go out, or at least, the guards and our parents look the other way. But the princess? I am supposed to appear chaste, and if my mother had her way, I would be locked up in my room until she married me off to some noble.
The door to the room opens and my brother’s boyfriend meanders in, his bare chest exposed and his sweats hung low on his hips. His black hair is pulled up in a half bun, showing the ragged scar that cuts through his eye. My brother smiles warmly at him, pushing up to stand and moving toward him. Oisin and Jax have been together for years now, both exclusively and not.
Oisin grabs the back of my brother's golden neck and pulls his mouth into a long kiss. When they pull back, Oisin exhales smoke, and a smile steals across his face. I avert my eyes when my brother bites his lip. Their desire for each other is evident. Arcanna watches them, something akin to hunger burning in those eyes before they flash back to normal. It’s not the first time I wonder if the three of them have ever shared.
