Page 2 of Heavy is the Crown
My father does another sweep around the dance floor, cutting off my line of sight of the vampire. His new bride, my new stepmother, seems to be enjoying herself, a smile painted across a perfectly made-up face. Only someone versed in abuse would see through that look. You can’t even tell she has a black eye or that she is favoring the right side of her ribcage. I watch as he twirls her through the dance, ever the doting husband. My stomach rolls with unease. It’s not that I don’t like Penelope—she is actually quite kind to me, which makes it worse that she is marrying into this shit show. No one should be subjected to the hellish life we’ve been living since my mother died.
Since I killed her. Since I woke to her blood coating my hands. Because I’m a murderer. Weak. Weak. WEAK.
We are not weak; you are choosing weakness.I can taste the smoke on my tongue as he fumes in his cage. Ever since my new stepbrother moved in, my dragon has been growing louder from where I keep him trapped within me. Most days, I trydesperately to ignore him, but right now, he’s too loud, and I can almost feel him rolling under my skin. The champagne isn’t working.
“You're looking awfully uncomfortable standing there.” The deep voice pulls me from the degradation going on in my head. Stepping out of the darkness is my new stepbrother, Drago. As usual, he looks perfectly put together, and my mouth goes dry as I look him over. At some point, he removed the bowtie, so his tattoos now peek out from the unbuttoned white shirt. The memory of seeing him shirtless the other night shoots to my dick.
He smells delicious. I bet he would taste like sin across our tongue.My dragon rubs up against his cage like a cat in heat.
My eyes track his tattooed hand, each finger decorated in silver rings, as he raises his glass to his full lips.Just imagine what those fingers could do.I choke on my own drink at the image that flashes across my mind, courtesy of the slutty reptile in my brain.
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I curse my body for having a reaction to him. Curse my dragon for making me want him. Cursehimfor giving me a taste of what it would be like to be able to choose a life with him.
“What do you want, Drago?” I manage to ask when I’ve caught my breath.
He steps directly in front of me, and his proximity makes my dragon go feral in his cage. He likes how Drago smells, and quite frankly, I can’t argue. The eucalyptus scent washes over me with a hint of citrus right underneath. It makes my mouth water. It’s why I’ve avoided Drago ever since he moved in. Or tried to. Aside from that fateful day when he dropped to his knees in front of me. The way his mouth felt still haunts my dreams. A shiver goes down my spine as I try to push the want away. We got lucky that time, to not get caught, but I doubt we would getlucky again. And I don’t need to add that to the list of things my father punishes me for. I can only imagine what fucking my stepbrother would earn me in punishment.
“I can’t say hi to my new stepbrother?” His eyes track over my body. My own tux is still in perfect order. Not a wrinkle on it.
Fuck, imagine what it would feel like to have him fuck us. His mouth was perfect; imagine that cock of his.
I curse my dragon as my cock gets even harder. Drago’s nostrils flare and he steps in closer, eyes widening. He opens his mouth to speak, when over his shoulder, I see the glare of my father, dark eyes burrowing into me. They offer up a promise of violence. Not just toward me, but toward Drago as well. My dragon growls low, rage moving through us like the lava that is our fire.
The urge to protect Drago at all costs is what makes me step back, putting distance between us. “Leave me alone, Drago. I have no interest in talking to you.” The lie is bitter on my tongue, but for once, my dragon is in alignment with me, agreeing that we must protect him. One, two, three steps and I’m turning on my heel, fleeing the party and my bastard father.
Drago
The house is quiet as I meander through the darkened halls, the party all but over, save for the few stragglers who are still too fucked up to figure out how to leave. My mother has long since gone to bed with her piece-of-shit husband. While I should be heading out to do my own nefarious deeds, I find I can’t escape the idea of Shadow. It slithers restlessly through my veins, the need to see him, to touch him. I’m proud of myself for not following him when he ran from me this evening, because if there is one thing I love, it’s catching prey.
However, I’m not an idiot—the moment I turned around and saw his father glaring in our direction, I knew why he had fled.When we kill him, I hope we skin him slowly before we let our flames eat him, my dragon rumbles. I smile at the thought.
I hadn’t needed to follow my mother here. Yes, she had asked, but I could have said no. However, something had tugged at me and urged me to follow her. So, I did. Only to figure out what a piece of shit her new husband is. I had heard of Julien in passing, all dragons have, but I had never had dealings with him directly. If I had, he would probably have been dead long ago. Now, I find myself in a peculiar position. One that, if played right, could gain me power over the city. Julien may be an alpha, but I answer to a higher god—not that he knows that. Not that anyone knows that.
The path to my obsession is dark, the hallway lights extinguished. But I don’t need my eyes right now. I’m not even to his door yet and I can already smell him. It’s wafting down the hallway like a siren’s call, luring me to a demise I don’t care to avoid. My mind flashes back to the last time I did this. His cock in my mouth was unexpected, to be honest, but now that I’ve tasted him, I need more. I need to find out what it’s like to be inside him.
I don’t pause at his door, I just push it open. The light is dim, barely enough to see around the room, but his eyes are wide open, luminous in the darkened atmosphere. His whiskey eyes don’t show any shock at seeing me . . . in fact, they show such a variety of emotion, it’s hard for me to track them all. But the one they land on looks like the cat who got caught with the canary. My hand rubs absently at my chest as I step over the threshold and let the door click shut behind me, then flip the lock. I step closer to him and take in his form. He's shirtless with a thin blanket over his lower half. It does nothing to hide his cock standing at attention.
“And what were you doing?” I purr, stopping directly at the end of his bed.
His dark hair falls into his eyes, cheeks blushing red. “Nothing. Why are you in my room?”
“Tsk, tsk. I asked you a question.” I allow myself to sit on the tiny bed, the twin mattress barely able to fit him alone, much less two of us. I lean forward slightly, invading his space even more. “It looks to me like you were about to be very naughty and fuck your own hand.”
His body is tense, every muscle poised to run.If he runs, I won’t be able to control myself, I’ll take him right here.Slowly, I pull the thin blanket off his body, causing his hard cock to bob when the material pulls free, exposing him fully. A bead of precum has already formed. I swipe my finger over it and pop it into my mouth, never allowing my eyes to leave his. “Who were you thinking of?” I grab his length and slowly work my hand up and down. His muscles are still impossibly tense, his breathing heavy.
“Fuck,” he hisses as I twist and pull at a torturously slow pace.
“Yes, I would like to do that. I would like to bury my cock in your tight ass and hear you scream my name.” I lean forward and lick up his shaft, taking his head into my mouth. His hips jerk upward, but I pull off him. “But to get any of that, tell me who you were thinking of.”
“I was thinking of some random girl at the party. Fucking her,” he growls.
I lunge forward, my eyes blazing and fist now circling his neck. “Tell me again how you were thinking of some cunt and not me.” I squeeze as I straddle him and grind down hard on his length. “Tell me how you weren’t thinking about your cock in my mouth.” I lean down close and allow my pierced tongue to flick out against his cheek as I lick upward.
A deep, throaty growl emanates from him as he tries to push up with his hips. “Fuck off, Drago.”
I lean back, still holding his throat, and smile at the image laid out before me. “Fuck, my hand looks good around you. You want this to stop? You say, ‘red,’ got it?” He nods, but I shake my head. “I want to hear it.”
For a moment, I think he’ll say no, that he won’t agree to play, but then he says the most beautiful words: “Yes, sir.”
