Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 3
“Ava!” Oisin’s rich voice pulls me from the thread of carpet I was trying to focus on to hide my embarrassment at watching Arcanna lust after those two. “Finally got to come hang out with us?” He pushes past Jax and sweeps me into his arms, his warm body pressing into me and flooding my head with his rich scent of tobacco and leather. When he finally puts me down, I watch his red eye trace over the oversized sweatshirt and bare legs.
Jackson comes up behind Oisin and swings his arm around Oisin’s shoulders, his silver eyes glazed over and blond hair disheveled. “I figured she was old enough now.” He shrugs, nipping playfully at Oisin’s neck.
“You guys are the worst,” Arcanna says. She flips over and pushes her long onyx hair over her shoulder as she stands. Despite the drugs, her hazel eyes are much clearer than my brother’s, or even Oisin’s. Her leggings cling to her muscular legs and the tiny slip of exposed stomach hints at defined abs. “You treat Ava like she’s a fucking child, Jax. She’s barely younger than you.”
“You might be the only one who remembers that, Arcanna,” I mutter.
She passes me a bottle of beer as the boys move to sit down on the long couch. I take a long sip of it and smile at her appreciatively. She is who I want to be. She doesn’t back down, doesn’t take shit from my brother or Oisin, and most importantly, she has her future wide open for her. No expectations placed on her at her birth.
“It’s not like I haven’t been following you guys for this long anyway.” I pull myself from the safety of my wall and sit cross-legged on the old carpet. This place was once beautiful, a testament of how my father felt for my mother. He built her the lake house when he was courting her, and if she can be believed when she’s drinking, they spent years being blissfully in love here. Until they weren’t. Now, the old house sits abandoned beside a lake that no one dares come to anymore. The houses here were built before Hell was what it is now, before the glittering spectacle of clubs and slot machines took over. It was a simpler time. Probably boring as fuck, too.
Everyone thinks this is what I want. A simple life. All because I haven’t fallen into the narrative of the party girl, not like my brother. His reputation of being a playboy party prince is all over Hell. He’s at a different club every weekend with Oisin and Arcanna in tow. I’ve managed to go in with them a small handful of times, but Jax makes sure no one actually sees me with them. I’m not even sure they know what I want. That sitting by the lake getting high sounds awful and I would much rather be at a club drowning in music and dancing.
I’m pulled back into the conversation by a loud barking laugh from my brother. The room has grown even hazier since I let my mind wander. I watch as Jax lets Oisin drape himself across his lap, and a small pit grows in my stomach. I want to feel someone's hands on me. I want to be able to lose myself in my friends. I want to not feel like I’m fucking suffocating.
(“Cobra (Rock Remix) [feat. Spirit Box]” – Megan Thee Stallion)
Jackson inviting me to hang out with them has emboldened me to make choices some might say are poor, or risky. That taste of freedom was like a hit of Eufori straight to my veins, though, and I can’t resist looking for that high again. Which is how I currently find myself wearing skintight black leather pants, high boots, and a tight leather jacket as I sit atop my brother’s black Ducati with the visor of the helmet securely down to hide my silver eyes and blonde hair.
Hell’s street races are legendary. Not just because of the type of cars that race but because of how dangerous they are. Hundreds of people race in a single evening, but not that many make it back over the finish line. It’s also the only time people can race the future king of Hell. At least once a week, Jax, Oisin, and Arcanna are here, joining in on one or two of the races. Jax either races his bike, which thankfully, he conveniently left at home tonight, or his all-matte-black Subaru STI. Even from here, I can see him leaning against the driver's side door smoking his cigarette and laughing. Oisin stands near him sipping a beer. He never races, only rides along with Jax or watches from the side.
Arcanna’s red Dodge Demon is parked next to Jax, but I can’t spot her anywhere. Both have already participated this evening and now preside over the rest of the races. My brother looks happy, looks peaceful. He looks normal. The green-eyed monster that is jealousy floods my brain and I suddenly hate my brother for getting to have this life. Regardless of how misplaced that anger is, it’s still there. The rational side of me knows it’s my parents who did this, not him. But the rational side has taken a backseat tonight, and that draw of freed burns thick in my veins, which is why when I hear the call for the bikes to line up, I don’t second guess following a few others over to the starting line that is dangerously close to my brother.
(“You’ve Created a Monster” – Bohnes)
Arguably, the bike races are the most dangerous, the most likely for me to end up dead on the side of the road. Cars offer some protection. Bikes don’t. Which is why I try to push the bike into the center of the pack, to obscure his view of the bike he will surely recognize for as long as possible.
“Let’s get ready, riders!” the man at the front yells as two women in bikinis walk forward. Their job is always the same, to signal the start of the race. As if seeing half-naked women will really get the racers ready to go. I grip the handlebars hard and feel sweat starting to drip down my back. I glance nervously over to my brother, who is still distracted, and see Arcanna has appeared next to her car.
“Fuck,” I breathe under my helmet as she looks directly at me, her eyes narrowing briefly before they flare wide with recognition. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She pushes toward my brother, and I see her yell his name and point toward me. His silver eyes swing to me at the exact moment the signal to go sounds. He pushes off his car, his magic gathering around him. I fumble with the bike but manage to take off, the air filled with the scent of exhaust. A glance in my side mirror shows him now standing in the middle of the road, looking absolutely furious with me.
If I survive this race, I may not survive my brother.
THREE
There are a variety of shifters in Gothic Grove. Wolves make up the largest population. Dragons, having only recently immigrated, make up a small portion. But the dragons should never be underestimated.
– Carmine Family Grimoire
Two Years Later
Drago
“Drago!” Shadow’s slurred voice and hand reaching for me snaps my resolve to play the long game against Julien. I manage to kill one vampire and two of Julien’s people before he stabs me from behind with some sedating drug. It’s the only way he’s able to subdue me. My body drops down and I can see the tears coming from Shadow now as he watches me fail at saving him. I watch as the remaining vampires drag my mate away from me. My world starts to dim, the drugs pulling me under. But before they do, I make a vow with myself that I will slaughter them all.
The punch impacts my left side, directly into my ribs. I grunt, pain flaring, and stagger back, until I feel the cool metal of the chain-link fence hit my exposed skin. My mind is pulled from the memory abruptly. Jeers from the crowd come roaring into my awareness as I heave in a breath, expanding those freshly broken ribs courtesy of the shifter in front of me. The wolf, a former member of the Primal Knights MC, looks smug as he spits blood onto the dirty floor of the ring.
Somewhere in the crowd, my stepfather is watching, taking on bets on the outcome of the fight. Two long years, I’ve been his little puppet, helping him build his kingdom. Two long years, he has been stuck in that fucking prison. Every time I hear a story about his dragon, my heart breaks thinking of what he is being put through. Sometimes, I regret trying to save him that day because it ultimately put me on Julien’s radar, revealing that I was not loyal to him. It put my mother on his radar. But my mother is gone now, and all bets are off.
His time will come. We will rip his heart out with our bare hands. He’s grown soft. Lazy. His dragon is barely awake now. He’s lost his power, my dragon rumbles, sleepy and slow from the drugs they give us to keep from shifting while we fight. Otherwise, no one would step in the ring with me. A smile ghosts my lips. They think having my dragon and magic locked away means I’m less dangerous. I’m still the most powerful person here.
The wolf in front of me rushes forward, our small break over. The sound of the bell ringing and screams of the crowd are now loud in my ears. The ring is nothing but a chain-link fence placed in a circle on old wrestling mats, the venue itself an old warehouse that should have been condemned long ago—half its roof is rotting away. But every Thursday, the fights are held here. And every Thursday, I win. According to my stepfather, I should lose this fight tonight. He bet against my undefeated streak. But I’m not losing tonight, no. The king is going to be toppled, and tonight is the start of it. I’ve spent my years planning and building my own empire, all for this moment.
It’s time to bring my mate home. Even if I have to burn this whole gods forsaken city to the ground and drag his body through the ashes, I’m bringing him home.
Ava
(“I Can’t Stop” – Flux Pavilion)
The party sounds cascade around me, a symphony of chaos. The air is thick with the scents of chlorine and alcohol, wafting up from the pool deck into the giant mansion. Every window is thrown open, every door unlocked and beckoning partygoers to go to and from. The air vibrates with the bass coming from the speakers; a live DJ presides over the dance floor. Standing back from it all, I observe and sip from my drink.
“Ava!” I hear bellowed from across the room, and I see Ophelia and her boyfriend, Nyx, wave as they make their way over. The smile across her face as she spots me is undeniable. The crowd parts immediately, giving space for Nyx. While she is in a swimsuit with a small wrap around it, Nyx is dressed in all black, per usual. She’s the closet thing I have to a friend that I can call my own, despite having met her through my brother. The moment she makes it to my corner, she wraps me in a soft hug, her curves pressing into me. Her long curly hair has the scent of jasmine.
“Hey,” I say timidly. “I didn’t realize you guys would be here.” Subtext to Nyx, Don’t tell my fucking brother I’m here. His dark gaze pins me with a look that says he knows exactly what I want but isn’t guaranteeing I’ll get it.
Ophelia offers a wide grin, her freckles popping out on her makeup-free face. “Us?! We didn’t know you’d be here! Is Jax here?” She looks out over the dance floor. “Or Arcanna?”
I take a long sip of my drink, avoiding eye contact with Nyx.
“Deva. I think she’s here alone,” he says into her ear.
She frowns over at me. “Did you sneak out?” Ophelia was raised in a small town, so unlike the capital; in a lot of ways, her life was no different than mine has been. She was kept in a gilded cage until she broke free with Nyx at her side.
I give a noncommittal shrug, taking another healthy gulp of the alcohol in my hand. The taste is a little too sweet for me, but I need the liquid courage. Ever since that street race, I’ve done whatever I can to get out and away. The need for independence is an addiction that I can’t kick. And my brother's need to protect me is something he can’t kick.
“I won!” I scream, ripping my helmet off. My body is still vibrating with adrenaline, heart pounding and hands shaking as I make my way toward my brother, a giant smile plastered on my face. His face, however, shows nothing but rage.
“And how the fuck do you think you won?” he growls.
I frown. “By racing.”
Arcanna grimaces behind him, and Oisin just shakes his head in disappointment.
“You are naive as fuck, Ava,” Jackson says.
Jax had used his magic, along with Oisin and Arcanna, to make sure I survived the race. It was the last time I ever saw a race. I’m still bitter about it.
Ophelia grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd with a wide smile painted on her face. “Oh, we have to go dance!” I’m pretty sure that behind her, Nyx curses but allows her to drag me out into the middle of the sweaty bodies.
(“Gold Dust (Flux Pavilion Remix)” – DJ Fresh)
I’m unsure of myself standing with her, this confident woman who drops her hips and throws her hands in the air. She moves with such self-assuredness, I’m envious of that. Envious of her ability to be so carefree, even with her responsibilities. Nyx moves in behind her, and I watch his hands loop around her waist. I attempt to mimic her movements, but I feel dumb, awkward. I start to say I’m going to head back to my spot, but she wraps her hand around my wrist, pulling me into her body.
“Just copy me!” she yells into my ear and places my hands on her hips, the feeling strangely intimate, given Nyx’s hands are right there as well. “Stop thinking!” she says over the music.
Yeah, Ava. Stop thinking. This is why you snuck out.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and lose myself to the music and the feel of her body pressed into mine.
Hours seem to pass while we go from dance floor to bar and back. By the end, the room is twirling, and my sides hurt from laughing so hard. After an eternity, I signal that I’m heading to the bathroom and slowly make my way out of the crowd. When I turn and look back at my friends, I can see Nyx locked onto Ophelia’s mouth, his hands creeping under that wrap over her bikini bottoms. I’m envious of what they have. I want that desperately.
It’s because of that desperation, and the alcohol, that when I see the blond-haired boy waiting in line for the bathroom, I don’t think twice about disappearing into a back bedroom with him.
(“Mermaids” – Florence and the Machine)
One would think sneaking into the royal palace would be much more difficult. But as my heels sink into the wet grass, I come to the chilling realization that my father only cares about us getting out. Or more accurately, me. His coveted little prize, his untouchable princess. The amount of dodging and weaving I had to do to get out could have given the best assassin a run for their money, but coming back, I barely have to hide myself as I move toward the side of the massive home. Covered by old shrubs, this door is known to very few. In fact, I would bet my soul that there are only four of us who know of its existence, none of which being my parents or any of the guards they employ.
I’m sure Jax regrets the day I figured this out. I snort. My older brother and his friends discovered it when we were younger. And being who I am, I followed them in and out many times. When he finally discovered me, he was furious. It took Oisin and Arcanna to calm him down. After that, we spent so many summer nights going in and out together. But that ended when I turned sixteen. Gone were the days when Jackson saw me as his little sister. Since then, he only sees me as the princess of Hell.
Pushing the ivy aside, I shove my weight into the oak barrier, my body screaming, until the door finally gives way and opens into a dimly light hallway of marble. The scent of stale air washes over me before it’s pulled out into the night sky. I will my magic up, a small flame of blue appearing in my hand as I shove the door closed behind me. Cobwebs litter the space and the flame I’ve created casts an eerie glow. The urge to run pushes through my bones, as if I’m being watched. I take a deep breath, refusing to race down the hall like I did as a child.
“I’m a grown woman. Princess of Hell. I will not run from imaginary ghosts,” I mutter, my words slurring slightly still. But my feet move at a quicker rate through the twisting space. I ascend higher and higher, until I can finally see a small strip of light penetrating the inky black air. A relieved whoosh leaves my lungs as I press my ear to the door. This would always be the tricky part—coming out of a coat closet like I’m walking out of Narnia does not look normal. After a few moments of silence, I twist the knob and step in.
When Jax and his friends first discovered this, they used it so much that my mother’s fur coats she kept in here began to show their secrets. With each pass by, more of the outside world would collect on them. After one particularly bad moment when Mother had a guard gut a maid in front of us for “neglecting” her precious coats, we decided something had to change. So, they slowly but surely replaced them with our own coats, putting her precious jackets in the hall closet closer to her room.
Jax's scent of smoke and evergreens washes over me as his green canvas jacket brushes my face.
Pausing one more time to listen, I step into the massive hallway just inside our front door. Bending down, I slip my ruined heels off my feet and sigh internally when my bare soles land on the cool white marble. With the alcohol rapidly leaving my system, I wince every time I move; the space between my thighs is tender. The hangover threatening to push inward is starting to fuel the shame and regret I feel for what happened earlier. I bite the inside of my cheek as I try to avoid making a sound, my steps wobbly. Waking up my parents won’t happen—Mother drinks herself to sleep every night, and my father probably isn’t even home yet. But my brother? Jackson can’t know I snuck out and can't know what happened. Getting past his room will be the hardest part of the night.
“And what did the cat drag in?” I cringe at the sound of my brother’s boyfriend’s voice. I turn slightly and see Oisin step out from the kitchen, his shirtless body silhouetted against the lights still blazing in the opposite room. Recently, Oisin has started to pay less attention to him and more attention to me. Having grown up with him, it initially didn’t bother me, but now, the scrutiny makes my stomach curdle and my skin tingle unpleasantly.
His face flares with concern when he sees me stumble and wince as I try to turn toward the stairs that will lead me to my room. “Jesus, Ava, what happened?” Rushing forward, he attempts to steady me.
