Page 38 of A Queen Of Broken Realms
I smile and Ashen laughs, pressing a kiss to my cooling forehead. “I didn’t want to know what my realm said about you. I wanted to know from the source.”
I count the golden flecks in Ashen’s eyes. He shifts to the side of me and I shimmy closer, his arm folding across my back as I burrow myself into him until my face is nestled against his chest, his shirt hot and rich with his distinctive scent. I run a fingertip across his collarbones, tracing the ridges and the divot between them.
“You’re kind of great, Ashen of House Urbigu,” I whisper, and he holds me tighter. “You know, for a person of romantic interest.”
Strong fingers prod my ribs and I laugh, trying to squirm away.
“Right, I forgot, a booty call bae.”
He tickles me again, digging his fingers into my sides and nibbling my neck until I’m a writhing mass of giggles. And when the onslaught slows, when the laughter fades, it’s just him, and the love that shines all the brighter through the cracks in our centuries of darkness.
“From the first moment we met, I chose you, my vampire,” Ashen whispers to the golden mark that shines above my heart. “I will always choose you.”
CHAPTER14
With Ediye, Cole, and Cyrus all gone on their missions from Ashen, I have a whole whopping day and a half to find the first Council representatives outside of my core group of trusted friends. Not that I’ve actually asked them to be on the Council yet, which I add to my growing mental ‘to do’ list. So far, the list includes everything from figuring out what to do with the hybrids that are still chilling at Valentina’s estate to finding out where the hell to get that elusive wax.
The first few interviews go well enough. They’re Reapers that Ashen says befriended Ediye while I was M.I.A., all from House Ushzu. From the three candidates, I pick a woman named Hotaru, who seems both shrewd and measured. She hasn’t given much thought to the souls that are here, but she’s interested in a fairer justice system for the immortals in the Living Realm. Plus, she killed the next candidate who was about to walk in as they passed one another at the door, which was pretty badass. Apparently, he was a real dick to her last week atBit Akalum.Yep, Hotaru will definitely fit in.
My interview process was a little clumsy with the first few interviewees after Ashen’s recommendations, but I’ve got my system fine-tuned now. I ask a bunch of questions, then slap a hand to the candidate’s forehead to see if they’re lying and find any other good tidbits. And there has been some gossip, let me tell you. Lots of feuds that go back for decades, more than a few protection scams in the Living Realm, and even several secret babies, mostly with humans. A dude named Maru from House Urbigu is in some kind of polyamorous situation with the sweet singer Tessa, two vampire brothers and a warlock. I like Tessa ten times more now. Maru is definitely in. Not because of the whole Tessa thing, but because he’s honest and he’s one of the few Reapers I’ve met who cares about what happens next to the wayward souls. And, you know,why choose. Double win.
But the Reapers of House Mushussu?
Fuck. It’s rough going.
House Mushussu specializes in reaping vampires, I’ve come to learn. And most of them are not so fond of being led by one.
Demon after demon, they fail the interview, some tanking in spectacular fashion. Truthfully, I get it. Not only are they pissed about Hakan, but the rumors about Joash and his severed arm have already swept through the House like a building fire. They’re pissed. Most of them can’t even hide it long enough to get through the questions. More than a few fall on Ashen’s blade.
I’ve been at it for six solid hours, and the latest condescending, crusty bitch I’m currently interviewing has really set my fangs on edge. I manage to make it through her questions, then slap a hand to her forehead, sending her mind into a dark room without even bothering to find out if she was answering them honestly.
“Zida,” I say to the snake curled behind my throne. She lifts her head and looks from me to the demon sitting in the chair.
The woman can still hear me. Her arms dart out, trying to feel her way in a darkness that only lives in her imagination. “What? Wait, no—”
“Have a snack,” I say wearily before turning back to my throne. The giant snake slides toward the scrambling Reaper, hissing as she rises on her muscular body. The woman begs with a series ofno-no-nosuntil Zida strikes her in the shoulder with her fangs and draws the demon into the grip of her shifting white coils. I close my eyes and rub my temples to the sounds of muffled screams and popping bones. “I did not like her snotty attitude.At all.”
“I can see that,” Ashen replies. “Perhaps a bit of a strong reaction for condescension.”
“Maybe she’ll learn to be a little more polite when she gets back from the Resurrection Chamber.”
Ashen huffs a laugh as he pushes a blood bag into my hand. “Well…that’s not going to happen. Not when Zida eats them, vampire.”
“Oh…” I say, glancing over at the snake. I swear she gulps the demon down faster than necessary, just in case I change my mind. I just give a half-hearted shrug instead. “My bad.”
I make another mental note, the Fourth Rule of the Shadow Realm: be more careful who you feed to the snake.
Ashen and I stare at one another for a long moment before he sweeps his fingers down my forearm in a gentle caress. I catch his hand and bring it to my face, leaning against it like a pillow. “Though your dedication to the interviews for the new Council is admirable, you should probably break for a while,” he says.
“Says the man who's been standing for six hours.”
“I’m fine, vampire. Besides, Imani is bringing food.”
I purse my lips and let out a stream of a sigh, too tired to even think about everything on my list or what the fuck I’ve done with my life. I’m the one who chose mercy over matches, after all. Like a dumbass. “I don’t know about dedication. I just know I have a shitload of work to do to evenlearnabout this place so it doesn’t fall apart at the leaderless seams. I need a trustworthy Council to help me transition into this role and I need themyesterday.”
“Yes, but if you exhaust yourself, you will only hinder your progress.”
We’re staring at one another as though on the cusp of arguing when Imani drifts into the room, flanked by one server carrying a covered platter and another with a bottle of wine. Imani is the picture of power and opulence, from her sleek patent heels to the effortless gesture of her hand as she ushers her servers toward the table. Her dark skin glows beneath a mass of black curls. A sparkling crimson dress shimmers across her curves, necklaces cascading down her neck like a waterfall, disappearing between her cleavage.
