Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1) Read online

  Wanting a closer look, I moved forward onto the floor, kneeling and leaning over the coffee table. My head tilted slightly as I examined the black and burnt orange crest of the House of Hellfire.

  All of the crests were gorgeous, but theirs just really appealed to me. Maybe it was because the ferocious Hellhounds on either side of the crest were representative of the badass creatures that the house’s members could shift into. Or maybe it was because I wished that had been the other half of me instead of my succubus side. The thought of shifting and running away sounded wonderfully freeing.

  "Unsurprisingly, each of the houses will want their representative to be voted into the Supreme position, but the House of Death has held the position for several cycles now—something that we do not want to change, as we are protected with your father holding that power." Otto offered me a serious look, as if he somehow thought I wanted to get rid of that security for the Reapers.

  My father had held the position for so long, so I didn't understand why he’d suddenly decided to send me when the vote would have pretty much been in the bag. In fact, he probably had more of a chance of winning if he sent no one at all, rather than send me. Unless...he knew I would fail and was sending me to make sure he didn't get selected because he was tired of it. No. No, he would never do that. I shook myself from the insecure thoughts and asked a different question.

  "So, if they all want the position, why do we keep getting it?"

  "Because we have more allies than most of the other houses. Our territory is known for being rather unbiased when it comes to making decisions," he explained. "Because of that, there are some houses you can count on as almost certain votes. Others, you may need to work on—and then there are some that aren't even worth trying to convince."

  "The Hellhounds from the House of Hellfire are almost a sure vote; they have yet to vote against us with your father in charge. Now that he is sending you two, though, that may change. So if there is anyone you need to focus on, it's them. You need to prove to them that you have the level of dominance they require from a leader," Otto explained. He shifted his gaze towards me, "That is why Drayven and you need to work together: they will probably respect him more than you, Amare."

  I narrowed my eyes, knowingly, "Why is that?"

  Otto's nose turned up, "They value purity of bloodline in their leaders, like the other houses, of course."

  Could I kill him? I could kill him, right? He was practically dead as it was, given his old age. I’d just give him the final kick into his grave.

  Part of me wondered if Otto was exaggerating how the other rulers felt, just to make me feel worse about myself.

  "Ama's magic is extremely powerful," Drayven hesitated before meeting my gaze. "They will view that as valuable, so it's probably best that we work together to convince them."

  I blinked and frowned...had the man just defended me? I mean, that's what it had sounded like, right? Weird. He was just getting weirder.

  "Of course," Otto conceded. "Then you have the House of Fallen."

  My eyes traced over the gorgeous gold and black crest that featured a massive set of wings surrounding a military-esque crest. I'd never met a Fallen before, but I'd heard that their angelic set of wings were absolutely gorgeous in person. If they were anything like the ones depicted on the crest, I would probably end up gawking at them like an idiot.

  "There is no chance of you convincing them." Otto waved his hand dismissively, and I suddenly had the urge to prove him wrong. Not because I cared, but because I wanted to rub it in the smug bastard's face.

  "Why?" Drayven demanded.

  "They have never been particularly friendly with the House of Death," Otto mused. "So I wouldn't even waste your breath on them. In fact, they have been the one house that has always voted against us."

  Challenge accepted—win over House of Fallen's vote. At least the mental challenges would provide me with some level of entertainment.

  "House of Runes is another one—"

  "I think we will be fine with the House of Runes." I hummed pleasantly thinking about seeing Finias again. Handsome, deadly Finias, who was apparently a trained assassin with a wicked sense of humor. I could practically feel my cheeks heating at the idea of him wanting to kiss me. It was intoxicating being wanted by someone like him. I couldn't guarantee that they would vote for us, but I knew I at least had an ally when it came to him.

  "I think that we shouldn't consider them an ally just yet. The heirs aren’t the ones who get to vote," Drayven grumbled as my eyes moved to the amethyst and black crest of the House of Runes. It featured a dagger in the center, surrounded by thick branches that seemed to wrap around it almost completely. It was a stunning crest that was far different from the others.

  Sort of like how different Finias was.

  Did I have a crush? I totally had a crush.

  "Ama," Drayven's voice was a low growl.

  I offered him an innocent look, my eyes moving up to his dark gaze, "What?"

  "He's dangerous," he hissed. "How many times do I have to tell you that he is a killer before you understand?"

  "Oh," Otto seemed to pick up on our conversation, "I take it you have somehow met the Prince of Runes."

  "Yes," I responded primly.

  "He harassed her," Drayven bit out, as an actual laugh tumbled from my lips.

  "If anyone was harassing someone, it was you."

  "The Prince of Runes does hold considerable power, but as usual when dealing with the House of Runes, tread carefully. They aren’t considered a major ally, and their heir isn’t exactly considered trustworthy because of his tainted reputation." Otto appeared thoughtful for a moment before looking at me, "Maybe using your Succubus allure on him would be just the thing to secure another vote."

  The metaphorical bucket of cold water crashed over me as I sat back on my knees and offered Otto a blank look. I wouldn't argue with him about this, but I would never do that to Finias.

  Drayven was still watching me, and an awkward tension filled the space. Fascinating how Otto was cool with the other side of my heritage when it served his purposes of getting us more votes. Ass.

  "What about this one?" Drayven broke the tension and pointed towards a sapphire and black crest.

  Otto wasn't done yet, though, and he seemed to consider his words before speaking, "Before we move on, it's very important you understand a few things about the Dark Elves, especially if we plan on getting involved with them. Unlike the Hellhounds, they don't rely on a normal method of power that equals dominance. They are cunning, so be careful around them and remember that the more runes they have, the more powerful they are. I would highly suggest that, if the opportunity presents itself, you try to secure an ally among them. Anyone who can summon a weapon from their own body is someone you want on your side...even if they are an untrustworthy and dangerous bunch."

  I nodded, then looked back to the next crest, sapphire and black, featuring a hooded figure surrounded by wisps of what almost appeared to be fabric. Each of the crests featured a rune in the center of it—a remnant from the realm's old language that told which type of magic each territory consisted of—and Obumbratio was no exception. This one I knew well because in some ways the House of Death and House of Shadows had similar characteristics.

  "The Wraiths may be your best chance at securing a tie-breaking vote," Otto admitted. "We have always had a tentative but decent relationship with them. They are very private by nature, but if you manage to befriend them, it could be a good alliance moving forward. I know your father has always had a good relationship with them. Plus, I am nearly positive that their heir is a young man named—"

  "No." My voice was hard and cold. "I let it go with the House of Runes, Otto, but this isn't our plan. I am not going to start seducing members of the other houses to secure our position. Heirs won't be making the decisions in the first place—their parents will be—and I... I don't use my Succubus powers."

  "Which is exactly why the House of Si
n will never be on your side if they see you neglecting that part of yourself," Otto sneered. "Why wouldn't you use all of your resources to secure a vote? Drayven would."

  I felt my temper spike, “Because my 'resources' are something that I am constantly berated for in my own damn home. Why would I use them to benefit people who hate me for them? If we get the House of Sin vote, it will be because we managed to secure something through other means. That's final. Do you understand me?"

  I didn't use that tone of voice often, but the command had Otto’s eyes widening as he looked back at the book. Drayven held my gaze, regarding me with something I didn't understand before Otto continued.

  "Wraiths have the unique ability to control and use shadow magic. It is one of the reasons they have some of the best spies this realm has ever seen. Be sure to watch what you talk about at the Summit because there’s a good chance of them putting someone on you all to listen for possible intel. You won't be able to sense them well if they are in their shadows.”

  I found myself jealous of their ability to hide themselves in their shadows. What I wouldn’t give to be able to vanish from this reality sometimes.

  "He's just such an ass," I growled, crossing my arms against my chest as we made our way down the city block towards our spot for dinner. I really should have brought a jacket, considering the chilly weather. Luckily, the massive gothic stone and glass buildings blocked the majority of the wind gusting from the mountains up north. Mortem, our territory, wasn't particularly warm, but I was able to get away with wearing a silk cocktail dress to dinner.

  The dress was structured on the bodice, the heart-shaped neckline showing off my cleavage and the tight fit highlighting my smaller waist. I felt good, and even Zurie had dressed up more than usual. Her dress was a loose-fit, more ethereal style, the black and white styling highlighting the lavender in her hair.

  Normally, I wasn't one for going into town—mostly because of the looks I received—but Zurie knew I loved the food at this place and had managed to convince me to get dressed up, saying it would make me feel better. Honestly, she wasn't wrong. I felt far better than I had with Drayven and Otto. It helped that I was on a small tangent about the past twenty-four hours.

  "I still think it's because Drayven likes you," Zurie offered with a disapproving shake of her head. "Which makes it ten times worse."

  "He doesn't like me." I shook my head, pretending her words didn't send a thrill over my skin.

  "Bullshit," Zurie paused to lean down and adjust her strappy stiletto. "You know how I feel about the 'boys are mean to the girls they like' saying—"

  "It is a social conditioning technique to make women accept lower standards from the men around them," I recited. I didn't disagree with her. Which was why, when I’d told Zurie about Finias, she had instantly said she liked the man. I knew my friend wouldn't admit it, but she was a romantic at heart, and her happiness for me had been authentic when I’d told her about Finias standing up for me.

  "With that being said, I think that is exactly the case here. I see how he watches you. I mean, everyone sees how he watches you, Ama," she shook her head, "which in my mind makes his attitude that much worse. At least I can take solace in the fact that he for sure knows what he lost from the way he’s acting about another guy having interest in you."

  I squeezed my arm around her waist and smiled. Once again, I was struck with thankfulness that I had someone like Zurie in my life. No, not someone like Zurie—Zurie specifically. She was my best friend. The closest thing I had to a sister.

  "Here we are!" I offered a bright smile, not wanting to think about Drayven anymore. The only thing the man liked about me was making me miserable.

  As we stepped into the small, expensive, and extremely popular restaurant, I was instantly greeted by the scent of delicious food and the sound of voices murmuring against a background of relaxing music. The entire space was dimly lit, allowing people privacy in the shadows of the establishment.

  "Hi there," Zurie began to talk with the woman at the hostess booth. I was hoping no one would recognize me while we were out, but I had a feeling that was unlikely. As it was, the hostess Zurie was talking to was staring at me with excitement. When she led us towards a table, I nearly groaned at the words that left her mouth.

  "Are you Princess Amare?" she asked, her eyes curious. I suppose it was better than disgust.

  "Yes," I offered a polite smile.

  "This is so cool." The girl seemed nice. Still, Zurie leaned forward slightly and offered her a nice smile that was in stark contrast to her warning tone.

  "We would like to be able to enjoy our night in peace, so if you could not bring attention to us until after we leave, we would really appreciate it," Zurie explained. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

  "Oh, of course." She nodded, then smiled as a young man approached the table, looking wide-eyed at both Zurie and me. Somehow, I had a feeling Zurie’s words weren’t going to matter to any of these people.

  After the waiter took our drink orders, I kept my back towards the restaurant, not wanting to see if people were looking at or talking about us. I was really hoping not. When our drinks arrived, my cocktail was bright red with an orange slice on the rim. I drank some of it as Zurie told me about her training session that day.

  Zurie, despite her delicate-looking nature, was actually an incredibly fierce fighter. She had been training with one of our territory's special operations teams for some time now and would be testing into an official team in a few months. I found the process fascinating, but I did not envy the workout aspect.

  "I am going to use the bathroom really quick." I hopped up after we put in our food order and tried to ignore the eyes I felt on me. I nearly sneered when I saw a group of three guys sitting at the bar, all of them staring at me. No—leering at me.

  Wasn't that the funny thing about these people? I wasn't good enough to be considered someone they would want to spend time with, but to leer at? To imagine fucking? Sure! Why not? Assholes.

  I was frustrated and distracted enough that I was genuinely caught off guard when I slammed into a firm, bulky chest. Although, considering how much larger than me this man was...it was more like the bottom of his chest, despite the added height from my heels. I pulled back, saw his drink had completely soaked his nice shirt upon impact, and moved to apologize. A pair of white, almost pearl-colored eyes stared down at me with a level of anger I hadn't expected.

  Crap. Could this day get any worse?

  The answer was yes. Always yes.

  Chapter Seven

  Colt

  "What the fuck?!" I gruffly demanded while staring down at my sopping wet black shirt, which clung to my stomach now.

  I’d just gotten this damn dress shirt.

  The curvy beauty in front of me stared at me in doe-eyed shock, momentarily halting my anger. Her black silk dress fell to mid-calf, but the way the material hugged her body in all the right places made it seem a lot more indecent than it actually was.

  The horns protruding and curling from her head instantly made everything click into place, even with her wings probably hidden with a glamour. Succubus. Of course she was, with that alluring body and mock-innocent expression—like she didn't know exactly what she was doing to me.

  Her small hand reached out as her mouth fell open, those plush lips begging to have my cock between them. "I'm so sorry! Let me get you a napkin." Her voice was pleasant to my ears, and it had a seductive lilt and slight, sexy rasp.

  She quickly grabbed a napkin from the booth to our left and reached towards me with the linen, dabbing it against my stomach.

  Accidentally running into me to get my attention, followed by a fake 'I'm so sorry', as if her kind didn't have a reputation for doing exactly this. Maybe this worked on others, but I definitely wasn't gullible enough to fall for this act, no matter how much my cock begged for me to.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t think I’d ever felt this intense of a physical reaction to a woman before,
so it was throwing me off my game a bit—something I definitely couldn’t afford.

  I was here for one sole purpose: to gather information on the King of the House of Death. And what better place to gather information than at the most popular restaurant and bar in Mortem?

  As a prince, it was my duty to help my house claim the Supreme seat, and that duty was of the utmost importance to me. Whoever held the title of Supreme had the power to change things in their house’s favor, and we desperately needed that power. More Fallen joined us every day, and we needed to expand our territory to keep up with housing and food for the influx. I could not—would not—let my people down.

  My hand reflexively grabbed the Succubus’ wrist, halting her ministrations to my shirt that were doing nothing to make the situation better. My shirt wasn't any dryer, and my cock was beginning to strain against my briefs, clouding my judgement.

  "Stop. I know exactly what you're doing and it won't work," I sneered down at her. For all I knew, she worked for the House of Sin royals and knew exactly who I was and what I was doing. I could trust no one, especially not a Succubus in Reaper territory. It was rare to have a crossing of species into each other’s territories except for political reasons.

  Confusion flickered in her pale pink eyes as she removed the napkin from me and spluttered, "What? I was just trying to help since this was my fault."

  Wow, I had to give it to her—she was a good actress. But then again, so were a lot of her kind.

  I barked out a dry laugh, "Yeah, sure. As if Succubi aren't known for putting themselves in these exact types of situations so they can feed off unsuspecting victims."

  Her confusion morphed into anger as she threw the napkin at my face and seethed, "Devil forbid anyone just try to help clean up the mess they made because they're a decent person. You think all Succubi are the same? Well guess what? So are all men...regardless of species!" I quirked a brow at the little spitfire before me, shocked by how she’d chosen to play this situation.