Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Well… things will be different now, going forward, since they’ve announced a courtship for his royal penis.”
I choke on the smoke in my mouth, my lungs burning when my coughing becomes uncontrollable. “That is awesome.” After a few seconds pass, we both lose it. Laughter so deep erupts out of me and it feels good. If only for a second.
To feel anything but sadness and resentment.
Eight
Knight
When I was a kid, my mother redesigned my entire room without telling me. It wasn’t a big deal. A simple click of my fingers and shit was back to normal, but I remember it pissed me off. She couldn’t tell me from Sin if our marks weren’t showing, so it was funny for her to think she had the slightest clue what I would want in a remodel. I wasn't mad about the design; it was the fact that she did it for control. To control.
Just like now.
“Step forward, please.” Her long, coffin shaped fingernail the color of ash taps against the marble black throne that she sits upon.
If our father was alive, he wouldn't be here for this. You put a bunch of thirsty females and my mother playing her control card and you wouldn't find him anywhere nearby.
If he were here this wouldn’t be happening.
Who would dare kill our King, and on the throne he sat on no less?
Legend kicks my foot and I turn to face him. With me at my mother’s right, Legend beside me, Creed beside him, and Sinner at the end, I should have been prepared for the smart-ass shit that’s about to fly out of my little brother's mouth.
“Five hundred souls that you fuck all of them within the first week.”
I flip him off, spreading my legs wide and running my finger over my upper lip. Mate or not, I have an obligation to fulfill, one I never wanted, but I'm the son of Arturo Deveraux. The first Lord to find his mate, so as much as London is killing me, literally I’m sure, it doesn’t matter.
It's simply a part of my path to my legacy.
Is it natural to reject the soul that was created to own yours? No. Common to? Fuck no. In fact, it’s one of the worst moves our kind can make.
It's not as easy as throwing her away. I wish it fucking were, as that would make what comes next a hell of a lot easier. Not that I need easy. I don’t.
I can handle anything thrown at me and I’ll do it with a fucking smile, the blood of any who stand in my way painted in pride across my fucking skin.
Still, I sure as shit plan to stand before the Roaring Flame of Rathe, where the guards of the past wars began their journeys to victory, to chant to the monsters of the night who lived before us and hope one of these girls can take London’s place in time. On the throne, in my head, and on my cock.
The third part looks to be a small possibility as the first chosen follows her Queen’s instructions and steps forward into the glass case before her. The entrance seals behind her, locking her inside, and with a quick flick of mother's hand, the cube like box slowly eases down the long hallway leading toward me.
The hall is pitch black, as is the room we occupy. There're only two sources of light in the space. One from the red relic at my feet, giving the chosen nothing more than the silhouette of their possible future forced mate. The second comes from the cube itself.
Every edge is illuminated, a golden glow cascading over the girl within it. She stands tall and statue still, her long red hair hanging loosely down her back in large waves. Golden pins are pressed above her ears and the entirety of her neck is swallowed by a looping necklace the same shade, the end curled and pointed against her chest.
“This is Ophira Octave.” Mother spins her finger, and the cube begins to turn, giving us a view of the girl at all angles.
“Vamp?” I guess.
“Siren.”
Our chairs sit four feet above ground, and the cube continues forward until it’s two feet from the first step. The redhead parts her golden gown at the slit, revealing long, lean legs as she drops to her knees before me. Her silken hair falls gracefully over her shoulders, and she holds there, head bowed before us.
I cock my head, attempting to tap into hers, and frown when I get nothing.
“The cube blocks all magic from coming in or out.” I look to Creed who smirks in his seat.
“Eyes,” Mother demands.
Ophira’s head raises, her lips curving into a demure smile as her golden gaze finds mine. “My Lord.” Her voice thick with lust.
The golden necklace around her neck begins to spin, disappearing completely until the item catches my eyes once more, this time wrapped around her arm, until the head of a serpent is hissing above her knuckles.