Royal Beasts: A Monster Romance (Monsters of Saint Mark's Book 3), page 1
Contents
ROYAL BEASTS
DESCRIPTION
PART ONE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE – TOMAS
CHAPTER TWO - PELL
CHAPTER THREE – PIE
CHAPTER FOUR – PELL
CHAPTER FIVE – PIE
CHAPTER SIX –PELL
CHAPTER SEVEN - PIE
CHAPTER EIGHT - PELL
CHAPTER NINE – PIE
CHAPTER TEN – PELL
CHAPTER ELEVEN – PIE
CHAPTER TWELVE – PELL
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – PIE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – PELL
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - PIE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – PELL
PART TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – PIE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
PART THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – PELL
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
PART FOUR
CHAPTER NINETEEN – TOMAS
1
2
3
4
5
6
PART FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY – PIE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - PELL
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - PIE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - PELL
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – TOMAS
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – PIE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – PELL
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN – PIE
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - TOMAS
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - PELL
CHAPTER THIRTY – PIE
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – PELL
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO – PIE
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE – PELL
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - PIE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - PELL
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX – PIE
EPILOGUE - TOMAS
EPILOGUE – PELL
END OF BOOK SHIT
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ROYAL BEASTS
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design by JA Huss
Copyright © 2022 by JA Huss
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-950232-93-2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
DESCRIPTION
When a two-thousand-year-old curse is the only thing keeping you safe, you should probably just leave it alone.
Here’s the problem—the curse is now breaking itself. The sanctuary is crumbling, Pell’s anger issues come with a new destructive voice, Pie has no control over her spellings, and Tomas is trying to convince himself that, one day, Madeline is going to love being a dragon.
Add in an old friend (minus her couch and plus a big blue bus filled with orphan kids), a new version of Granite Springs where the devil lives in a bar, a hundred monsters reliving the teenage-years they never had, and a date to a prom in 1982 and we’re getting close to the chaos that’s coming.
Other worlds are calling, the new doors act like hallways, and nothing that mattered before matters now. The world is quickly changing and when the curse finally breaks for good—will there be anything left?
Royal Beasts is the third rompy paranormal, shifter, dragon, monster, ancient-Roman-gods rom-com in the Monsters of Saint Mark's series. You can't skip - so it must be read in order. KC Cross is the paranormal/sci-fi romance pen name of New York Times bestselling author, JA Huss.
PART ONE
PART ONE
The fairy tale can go awry
Just ask Tomas, Pell, and Pie
Happy endings are the goal
But they can also steal your soul.
PROLOGUE
Once upon a time—in the land of damaged gods, savage saints, and royal beasts—there lived a dragon called Tomas.
That’s how they all start, isn’t it?
The fairy tale. The quest. The hero’s journey.
And I have made myself the hero, haven’t I?
Because I am. I truly am.
I’m the one who burned the sanctuary down to save Pie and Pell.
I’m the one who burned the town of Granite Springs to save Madeline.
I’m the savior, aren’t I?
And, if history is reliable—and it always is, my darling—I will do it again to… well. Save someone else, of course.
And then we will all have our happy ending, won’t we?
Of course we will. It’s the rules. It has been written, as they say.
The ending will be glorious, I cross my heart and hope to die.
But first, before we get there, a little bit of filler…
CHAPTER ONE – TOMAS
I am no longer Tomas.
I might never be Tomas again.
I’m not sure how I know that who and what I am is variable—like the hallways upstairs—and I don’t know the mechanisms, of course, but I do fully understand that I am no longer Tomas.
Perhaps I shall give myself a new name to celebrate this change?
“What should we call me?” I walk over to Madeline and kneel down. She cowers away from me, the fear wild in her eyes. “Hmm?” I push a piece of sweaty hair away from her face with the tip of my sharp claw so I can see those eyes. They are changing.
“I don’t… what?” She’s breathing hard, eyes darting, trying to see everything. It’s very dark in here but like her body being covered with scales—and me, becoming new me—her eyes are changing. So I’m mostly certain that she can see.
“I need a new name, Madeline. I’m no longer Tomas.”
“Tomas?” She squints at me. Like, if she just narrows those eyes a teeny bit more, it might all make sense.
I smile at her, then pet her head. “Dear, sweet Madeline. You don’t need to be afraid.”
“A-a-afraid?” She mewls the word out.
“Not of me, beloved girl.”
“I d-d-don’t understand. What’s happening? Where am I? Why am I here?”
She has asked me these questions a dozen times already. Her memory isn’t so good.
But then again, neither is mine.
And it is a confusing time. I think we can all agree on that.
“You died, my love.”
“Died?”
“That’s right. That Russ Roth.” His name comes out as a low, throaty growl. “He shot Big Jim, too.”
“Oh, my God. What’s happening?” She’s becoming hysterical. But this is normal. She’s mostly been hysterical since she woke up from her death.
I gently take her arm and hold it up. “Look, darling.” It takes a moment for her to focus on the ammolite scales that now cover her entire arm up to her neck, but then there it is. The recognition.
“Oh, my God!” She’s wailing. Kicking at me. Trying to scoot herself back deeper into the corner. “Oh, my God!”
I put a finger up to my lips. “Shhhhhhhh. You’re just fine, my love.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the dragon who is no longer Tomas.”
“Dragon!” And then her face becomes a mixture of disgust and horror. “What the—Oh, my—You’re so… horrible! What is this?” She looks around like a cornered, feral animal.
I snap my clawed fingers in front of her eyes. “That’s enough. It’s fine if my true self horrifies you, but you don’t need to be rude about it. A little self-control goes a long way.”
She turns inward then, covering her face, and shaking her head, and sobbing loudly.
I sigh and lean back against the wall, absently holding her hand, still petting her. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see. It’s all going to be fine. There’s a happy ending in our future, Madeline. There truly is. It might take a few thousand years to get there, but it’s the journey, right? Not the destination.”
I have never really bought into this whole journey thing. I mean, what is the point of struggle and pain? To build character? Absurd.
If I had my way, we’d all skip to the end and just live the happily ever after. It’s the goal, after all. Why bother with the journey?
Anyway, where were we?
Right. My new name.
It’s a big deal. Such a big deal I take a nap while I think. But when I wake, I’m still not sure what I should be called. Something… with purpose.
Well, I shall have to think on that.
But for now, I just look around my home and try to appreciate it. Because like it or not, this is the only home I’ve ever had. I have been here for several thousand years with only Pell, and the occasional slave, to keep me company.
But things have changed considerably over the last few months. Especially the last few weeks.
And it all started with a girl called Pie.
Pie is the catalyst.
You see, this is how magic works. It’s just like… like a chemical reaction, except it’s magical. You start with a snippet of this and that, add something spectacular to the mixture, and wooobam! You get something brand-new.
Pie is our something spectacular.
Her
Right now, I just want to think about Pie.
I remember seeing her outside on the lawn, just standing in the front of the sanctuary looking down at herself. I might even have startled her when I called out.
I think she was going to leave.
I think I was the one who stopped her from doing that.
She blames Grant or that flier she saw for her change of fortune, but it was me. I was the one who really sealed her fate. Because if I had not been on the terrace that morning there would never have been a slave caretaker of Saint Mark’s Sanctuary called Pie.
She went to the door and I went back inside fully intending on meeting her down there. But I got lost in the hallways. They took me on a trip. The time is fuzzy, but all I know is that when I finally did make it downstairs, I was new again.
It doesn’t happen often, so it’s quite a big deal.
I could touch things. And feel things. And I didn’t have to wear the dragon body or the ghost one, either. I wasn’t human, of course. Have never been human. But it was very nice to have legs and arms and a face a woman could appreciate.
My eyes dart to Madeline. She is covered in scales now. Even her face. Which, I have to admit, surprised me. Because my current face is not covered in scales. Only my lower body is. She is a gorgeous dragon, though. And maternal, too. The eggs are huge underneath her human-sized body. Massive, like boulders. But she sleeps on top of them, draping herself all over them, doing her best to keep them warm.
They are in no danger of getting cold now. Two dragons in the nest is more than enough heat. Our radiant bodies alone are enough to incubate them to the end. Neither of us needs to actually sit on them.
I reach over and slide my fingers down Madeline’s red-scaled cheek.
She is a blood dragon, like me.
What are the chances?
One in a trillion, maybe?
“How are we feeling, darling?”
Madeline growls at me, snarling and snapping her sharp teeth, forcing me to pull my hand away.
I chuckle. “That’s marvelous, my love.”
She is… well, I would not call her a disappointment. Not at all. She is my new best friend. She is my new lover, though we’re taking our time in that respect. She is my partner. We are in this together now and that feels wonderful.
But she is not as sweet as she used to be.
In fact, she is rather mean now.
I do not hold this against her. Waking up a dragon is a confusing time. In fact, everything about being a dragon is confusing.
I think I’ve mentioned this.
It makes one do… punishable things. Imprisonable things.
Which is part of how I got here, of course. Dragons will be dragons.
But she has me to help her along. I had no one when I was born, because I hatched out of the egg and wasn’t transformed by a magical bat-person. But Madeline has me to guide her through this.
She is not a prisoner.
Yet.
And she will never be one, if I can help it.
Though, if the eggs hatch, there’s not much chance we will be welcome anywhere.
But that’s OK. There will be five of us then. Five dragons are enough to change the course of a universe and all we really want to do is escape this prison and be free to find our happy endings.
When I brought Madeline in here she was, for all intents and purposes, dead. But Batty owed me and he paid off his debt in magic, bringing her soul back to her body for a second chance.
Of course, his magic would not have worked if Madeline wasn’t already who she is. Deep inside, she was always a dragon. Though on the outside, for the most part, she was just a lowly eros.
The dragon gene is recessive, popping up every seventh generation. I wish I had her whole family history. I would love to know her ancestors.
The eggs, though, are not hers. She will not reach reproductive age for centuries.
No. These eggs have been here in the dungeon with me for thousands of years. I had hundreds of them when I was banished to my prison, but most of them disintegrated from rot.
Only these three are left now. And until recently, they were nothing but petrified shells. There must be two dragons in close proximity for eggs to incubate. These three looked just like rocks before Madeline moved in. Like a bit of crumbling wall or foundation stones. But within minutes of her arrival they began to change, and glow, and undulate with the waking of the dragon hearts within.
Their blue-and-black mottled shells are transparent in places. And sometimes, when the heart light inside throbs just the right way, and the little buggers are in a particularly wriggly mood, I can see the outline of a tiny muzzle or a bit of wing.
How soon they will hatch depends on many factors. Heat, humidity, and, of course, desire.
For it is desire that drives a dragon.
“Hel-looooo?”
I perk up at the sound of a distant voice drifting down from the upper floors.
“Tomas?”
“Pie?” I get up and cross the dungeon until I am standing at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m here. Are you coming down?”
“Um… am I allowed to come down?”
“Your home is my home, so my home must be your home. Isn’t that how it works?”
“Mmmm… is it?”
I chuckle. “You’re so adorable. Now, stop being silly and come down the stairs.”
She hesitates. “Well, I’ve been down there before and you tried to burn us alive.”
“When?”
“When Pell was stealing scales for that banishing spell.”
“Oh.” I chuckle again. “Well, I was a dragon, Pie. Now I’m a… something else. I will not burn you. That’s ridiculous. I barely breathe any fire at all these days.”
“Barely?” Her voice is still distant. “You burned Granite Springs to the ground.”
“Pshaw.” I wave a hand in the air. “That was but a burp. A bit of indigestion.”
“Indigestion? Did you… eat something I don’t know about?”
“Stop being silly. Get down here.”
The faint sound of footsteps echoes down the stairwell until finally she peeks her sweet face around a corner and brightens when she sees me. “Well, you still have arms and legs. That’s a good sign.”
I throw my arms up with flair. “May I present to you my extremities!”
“And you still look like Tomas.”
“The same face you have known and loved.”
She comes all the way around the corner and plants her hands on her hips. “Huh.”
“What?”
“You look the same.”
“Why would I change?”
She shoots me a look. “Because you’re a dragon. I’ve seen it.” She points at me. “You burned the crap out of me with your hellfire. Pell had to rub magic gel all over my back to soothe it.”
“I bet you liked that.”
“Hmm.” She considers this. “It did feel pretty nice. But it was a super-stressful time, so I didn’t really get to enjoy that part. Are you busy?”
“Not at all. And even if I was, I would not turn you away. You’re my first visitor since Madeline came to live here.”
“Speaking of…” Pie’s eyes dart around the dungeon. “How is she?”
“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s adapting wonderfully and resting comfortably.”
“Ooookay. Anyway. Batty just had a long conversation with Pell and me, but we can’t understand him, of course.” She continues her descent, holding up a piece of paper. “I need a favor. If you’re up for it.”
“A translation?”
“Yeah. Batty has been going on and on about all kinds of things and we have no clue what he’s talking about. So I figured I’d come down—to check on you, of course, but also to get you to translate this convo we just had. If that’s OK, that is. I don’t want to interrupt you and Madeline.” Pie’s eyes dart over my shoulder, then squint a little in the darkness, trying to see Madeline in the shadows. “Are you sure she’s OK?”
“She’s quite well. But not the same, of course.”
This makes Pie cringe. “Not the same… how?”
“Would you like to see her?”
“Will she burn me?”
“She can’t breathe fire yet. So you’re good.”
