Page 12 of Queen of Vampire Hearts

Cassie reached into her bag, one I hadn’t noticed she was carrying until that very instant, and pulled out a banana. She gazed at the fruit with extreme concentration before miming dialing on the fruit as if it were a cellphone and holding it up to her ear.

“Ring! Ring! Hey, Dad! It’s Cassie. That’s right, your adopted daughter and legendary Oracle! I just wanted to let you know, and I know it sounds insane that I have to spell this out for you, but probably ask a woman her name before trying to screw her. Just a thought. Okay, love you, bye!”

She tapped the banana as if hanging up and shot me a lethal glare. Ihatedwhen she did that. Her reprimands were more pointed because she knew me so well. I faltered under her gaze, falling back onto my throne with a sigh.

“You know this takes thinking with yourdownstairsbrain to a whole new level,” she added with a shrug, twirling her lollipop.

Cassie gaily skipped forward and settled into the queen’s throne. Like mine, it was cut from obsidian, and the back was far too straight and rigid. But, unlike mine, it had sat empty for the last ten thousand years. If I could find my mate, it would finally have an owner. I was so fucked.

I shifted toward Cassie, who was idly surveying me while lounging in the queen’s chair. I couldn’t ask her. It was fucking unfair to ask for her help. I’d gone two thousand years without needing her visions, and I knew the price she paid for them. I. Wouldn’t. Ask.

“Can you give me any clue where to look?” I blurted out.

Even as the question slipped out, I noticed howtiredCassie looked. Cassandra always appeared youthful, but I could see the shadows under her eyes. Something was weighing on her, and I wondered what horrors she saw. What steps did she take to prevent wars or even cause them? Did all immortals merely dance to her tune, or did every prophecy she extolled only prevent a worse fate?

She smiled, her blue eyes going vacant. A milky white fell like a film over them, as they did when she experienced the future. Her mind was somewhere realms away as she rose to leave. She headed toward her old room, which remained much the same as it had when she’d left it. As she walked away from me, I experienced a pang of loss. I missed the little girl who had once sought the shelter of my arms when the storms rocked the castle. The child who listened to my fanciful tales of myth and mystery until her eyes slowly closed was lost to me forever.

In her place, an oracle stood, an immortal able to change the world with only a handful of words. Yet, she couldn’t help me. If she could have, she would have told me where to go, where my mate was, evenwhoshe was. I knew it was fucking wrong to have asked her.

With her departure, I glared down at my useless hands. Then, out of nowhere, an object hurtled at me. It beaned me in the temple and dropping to the floor with a clatter. I narrowed my eyes on Cassandra’s back, knowing she’d done it on purpose, waiting for me to become distracted before chucking it. I glanced down at what she’d thrown, recognizing it as a string of cheap plastic beads. The necklace was the kind you could buy at any party store, but this one had a small plastic pendant that readKrewe of Endymion. Welcome realization flooded me as I called, “You’re my favorite daughter, Cassandra!”

“I’m your only daughter!!” she responded.

I smothered a smile as I pulled out my phone to dial my pilot, ensuring the jet was prepared for immediate departure to New Orleans.

VII

The Realm of Mortals.

New Orleans, Louisiana.

I LANDED IN NEW ORLEANS ALMOSTfifteen hours later, just as the sun was rising. It had taken less than an hour to collect the things I needed from the castle. I wasn’t a person attached to very much. My home was spartan by this century’s standards, as I despised most modern technology, except for the most basic necessities. I had just recently agreed to a cellphone, and I was prone to crushing it beneath my heel when it rang too much. The small bag I packed was full of well-worn jeans and various band t-shirts I’d collected over the years. I had also remembered to pack the dreaded bagged blood. Though, I wanted to hurl every time I looked at it.

Throughout the flight, my thoughts tortured me withwhat-ifs.What if someone figured out her tie to me and got to her first? What if someone hurt her? What if someone claimed her? What if? What if? What if?At least, the horrors in my imagination kept me from speculating more about the actual source of my bone-chilling panic.What if Ifind her? What the fuck do I do then?My silver tongue did me little favors past the actual seduction part.

Always be the leaver.Something my mother taught me when I was barely old enough to have fangs. I’d never kept another woman around for longer than was necessary to get off. If a partner was after seduction, they need to look no further, but I had zero experience in keeping someone around. Even Cassie had left to fulfill her calling, leaving me behind as well.

I raked my hand through my hair for likely the millionth time since boarding the plane. At least I was able to keep the bagged blood down for the flight. Although, it was close. My clothes no longer hung off me, but every extra drop of blood I consumed was pooling in my cock. I swear my downstairs brain only cared about getting inside my mate, not whether I survived getting to there.

As we taxied along the small private airstrip outside Metairie, I mentally prepared myself. I had no fucking idea how to convince my mate that we were destined to be together, so I kept my plan simple. I would get to her first and then figure everything else out after.

We finally stopped, and I twisted one way, then the other, my long limbs protesting the cramped flight. Even on a private plane, I was not a fan of closed spaces. I struggled to conceal my impatience, waiting for the flight attendants to lower the steps for me. It took them longer than usual, and I suppressed the urge to snap at them. As I descended from the jet, I pulled the sunglasses from my pocket and strode to the car idling patiently for me on the tarmac.

My lips twisted before I donned the bored facade I usually wore. I didn’t need enhanced vision to know that several of my subjects were sitting inside the limo behind the sun-proofed glass. The sun’s normally deadly rays warmed the skin exposed by my short-sleeved band t-shirt, black jeans, and scuffed combat boots. Everything about me was meant to disarm. They expected me to step off the plane in a six-figure tailored suit, but I enjoyed being comfortable. I would take a cotton t-shirt and jeans over a suit any day. One of the few modern allowances I enjoy.

Their envy was palpable as I strolled through the warmth of the morning. Sunlight was lethal to vampires, one of the few things mortals got right, but I was an exception. As the firstborn vampire, I was immune to the damage of the sun’s rays, but there were other ways for vampires to become day-walkers. I was wearing a sunlight charm on my right ring finger. The magic of the charms was extremely rare, and I had yet to decide who deserved such a gift. The ring was merely decorative on me.

My ability to move about during the day added to the myths of my savagery. The reputation helped to keep my subjects in line. They knew I could strike against them while they were sleeping and vulnerable. Plus, I was vain enough to admit that I looked much better with a natural golden tan. I didn’t pull offpastywell.

I slid into the town car and slammed the door shut, facing the four vampires who fancied themselves the rulers of this area of North America. Vampires were notoriously territorial, even with our own kind. When I’d called ahead to let them know I was arriving, purely as a courtesy—I was still theirking—they’d sounded less than pleased.

Often I would let little territorial vampires declare themselves leaders of certain geographical areas, mostly so I didn’t have to police the area myself. I stepped in only if they thought to call themselvesroyal. Over the centuries, I’d made examples of those who had overstepped. A whisper of my interest in an area’s activities was usually enough for them to stand down. Words could be more powerful than weapons, my fearsome reputation quelling more rebellions than my fangs. But I enjoyed showing up every once in a while, just to make them uncomfortable. If I wasn’t so panicked about seeing my mate, I would have laughed at the sight the group of posturing vampires made. It was the little things in life.

A sharply dressed, dark-skinned man was the first to speak. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Your majesty, it is an honor to have you in the Crescent City.”

Elijah Jackson, former slave and American Civil war hero had been a friend since the aftermath of the Battle of New Orleans. Elijah had been turned by William Anderson, a vampire who had patrolled the dead for worthy soldiers. Elijah’s thousand-dollar suits and shoes, along with his cultured tones, made many believe he’d always lived a life of luxury. The assumption was far from the truth.

I smiled brightly at him, making sure my fangs joined in my showing of teeth at the other three, who seemed less than happy with my appearance. Two males and one female completed the little ensemble. I glanced at the female, noting that her tight red curls were brassy and dull compared to my mate’s luxurious mane of fire. I recoiled from her in distaste, forced to recall the last time I saw my mate. Gods, I was such an asshole. I was about to fuck her in the middle of the pleasure ball without even getting her name.

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