War and His Queen (Carpe Noctem #1) Read Online Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Carpe Noctem Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
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I look back down at mine. “Why so many diamonds? How much did they cost?”

Priest shrugs his shoulders. “Mom said at least a mill, which means it was three.”

I stifle a laugh. “Ain’t that the truth.” Before I can fasten it, hands cloak mine and my skin prickles.

Priest bares his teeth at him and for a moment, everyone stops.

This is bad. If Priest knows about us, it could ignite a family feud.

War ignores everyone and lifts it to my face. In a second, I’m looking through peepholes while he tugs on the ties at the back of my head.

“Chill…” War dismisses. “It’s not that deep.”

Priest holds his stare for a moment and I’m silently praying that nothing comes of this. The only time I’d get to my knees, is to pray that these boys don’t rip each other’s hearts out.

“We can do this later!” Stella snaps her fingers between us, and around all the drama, River has managed to twist her blonde hair in two pigtail buns.

River’s Calvaria is similar to War’s, only where his has white diamonds, hers has a scattering of pink rarity.

“Word!” Vaden pipes in, and I take the moment to admire both his and Stella’s. Vaden’s is the only full face Calvaria. Black and gray diamonds forge together and cover every inch of exposed skin, only leaving his eyes. If that wasn’t enough, two points of Devil horns climb up each side of his head in a trail of black diamonds. Stella’s is a similar style, instead her horns are hellfire rubies. The black diamonds that panel the design of the skull is on a sideways angle, leaving a quarter of her face uncovered.

“So, this game…” I step away from War. He’s clearly on some shit if he’s being callous with his dominance.

Vaden pulls the last door open, leaning his back against it. He stretches his arm out to the room.

I step through to see eight people with their hands bound and tied, naked and blindfolded, kneeling to the ground.

I turn over my shoulder to find Priest and grab his hand. I direct him around the corner until we’re away from everyone else.

“What is going on?”

The mask doesn’t cover his mouth or jaw, so when his lip curls up a half grin, I know I’m going to wish I never asked.

Jesus fuck.

“They’re pledges, Halen.”

I lean around the corner. Their skin is bare of any marks. I take this time to notice the rest of the space, since I was too focused on them when we walked in.

Stella leans toward a girl with long blonde hair and twirls it between her fingers as if playing with a toy.

“What’s the matter, Hales?” His head tilts to the side. “No longer wanna play?”

“Pledges from where, Priest? We don’t do pledges. We do family. Family lineage and that’s all. So where did you get them?”

Priest’s specialty is making people feel inferior. He’ll antagonize you with his glacial disposition until you second-guess everything that comes out of your mouth. “That man who cut you? These eight are who we caught when he tried to get away.”

I grimace. “There were nine, with him?”

His face is stone. “There were twelve. We gave them an option. They could come here and be a traitor, or they could die.”

The Elite Kings Club has never opened their doors to outsiders. Not ever. “Priest, they can’t be here. They can’t just join Perdita or link up with one of the ten Founding Families. That’s not how this works!”

The muscles on each side of his jaw twitch, and realization hits me when his eyes glimmer for the hunger of debasement. “We know.”

I stand there a moment as he brushes past me. So they kill who doesn’t want to come with them, and then bring the others to Perdita to torment before eventually killing them anyway? Or before what? Sending them somewhere?

I shuffle back to the line of eight pledges, as the red light that tracks around the bar radiates from behind them. Bottles of alcohol are splayed out in the glass cabinet behind the tender, who is an obvious Lost Boy. His gold mask covering the side of his face proof of that.

I can think up all the reasons why the boys do what they do, but I’d never understand. They like to torment people, humiliate. They get off on it—but they also bring them here to Perdita? The island that is sacred to our ancestors. Fuck me. If Dad knew…

I make my way to the bar, desperate to dull the throbbing in my head. Music strums in the background as Tupac raps about thug love.

As soon as I’ve slumped onto the barstool, the Lost Boy’s eyes settle on mine. They’re a warm mix of hazel and green. His jaw is cleanly shaven, but the hair on his head is slicked back. He’s attractive. All the Lost Boys are. They always have been.


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