Page 83 of Heir

I had way too many questions, and the three men in my living room could answer zero of them. I needed to find a vampire, a female vampire, and see if she could provide me with some clarity.

There was a Vampire King, right?

Did that mean there was a Vampire Queen? Just because my father—the Demon King—didn’t have a mate didn’t mean other kings didn’t have mates.

I poked my head out the door to see Drak sitting on the kitchen barstool, wrapped in yards and yards of flaming, yellow rope. He struggled against his restraints and gnashed his teeth at Zandren and Maxar. His fangs descended, blue eyes wild.

He discovered me watching, and his pupils dilated, darkening the cobalt of his irises to almost black. His nostrils flared and a primal, savage need took over his angular features. I was . . . mesmerized.

I couldn’t look away and a big part of me wanted to give myself to him. To allow him to . . . do what his baser instincts told him to do.

“Omaera,” Maxar barked, noticing me. “Back in your room.”

“Is there a Vampire Queen?” I asked.

“Yes, Queen Calliope. Why?” Zandren asked.

“Because I want to talk to her. To find out what this is exactly. If I’m safe.”

Zandren and Maxar exchanged looks for a moment, then eventually Maxar nodded and dug out his phone. He punched in a few things before walking over and handing it to me. “Here.”

“You have the Queen on speed dial?” I asked, loathing the streak of jealousy that whipped through me.

“Not the Queen, but this will get you through to her. I had a brief, albeit passionate, dalliance with one of her handmaidens.”

More hot jealousy tore through my body.

He smirked. “It was centuries ago. My heart and cock belong only to you now, my Queen.”

Glaring at him, and hating that he knew I was jealous, I snatched the phone from his hand and closed my bedroom door.

I hit dial on the number.

It rang four times before someone finally answered.

“Maxar Rane, it’s been nearly two hundred years. What a surprise.” Her voice was like a kitten’s purr and I wanted to rip off her ears and shove them up her butt so she could hear me kicking her ass.

“I’d like to speak with Queen Calliope, please.”

She huffed a small laugh. “May I ask who is speaking? Not just anybody gets to speak with the Queen.”

“Please tell her that it is Omaera Playfair, Queen of the Realm and daughter of the late Donovar . . .” Shit, what was my father’s last name?

Thankfully, I didn’t have to figure that out because this handmaiden was tripping over her words to apologize. “Your Majesty. I’m terribly sorry. Yes, one moment. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

I smirked. Yeah, that’s right. You apologize.

“Hello?” came a much more refined and gentle voice a moment later. “Queen Omaera?”

“Yes. Hello, Your Majesty.”

“It is I who should be addressing you as ‘Your Majesty’.”

“How about you just call me ‘Omaera’?”

She laughed softly, the way you would expect a queen to laugh. “And you can call me ‘Callie’. How can I help you, Omaera?”

I wandered over to my bed and sat on the end of it, glancing at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall beside my dresser. Exhaling a long sigh, I said, “Do you get your period?”

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