Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1) Read online

  Her rant continued, her hands flying as she spoke, "I can't even offer someone a fucking 'hello' without them feeling some faint trace of my power. It’s not like I am doing it on purpose—trust me, I would love to not have that specific power at all. But every damn man thinks I'm trying to get in his pants, when all I'm doing is showing some damn manners."

  My brow furrowed in confusion at her display of seemingly honest disgust at the implication of my words. She huffed when, instead of responding to her, I just continued to stare, trying to figure out her agenda. As she brushed past me, she knocked into me roughly with one shoulder to make her point before storming off in the direction of the bathroom.

  I felt a desire to unravel the situation and decipher whether she was being honest or was just the most enrapturing Succubus I'd ever met. Shaking my head, I focused my thoughts on my mission. I'd never see the woman again, and I couldn’t afford to spend my time pursuing her simply to satisfy my curiosity.

  Somehow, the House of Death had snagged the position of Supreme multiple centuries in a row. My parents told me it was because their king, Alaric, truly acted as a neutral force who had no quarrels with the other houses. You weren't allowed to vote for yourself for the position, and the rest of the houses were endlessly embroiled in one drama or another, so the votes continued to go to him.

  I had been tasked with figuring out if King Alaric really was as honest and unbiased as he made himself out to be. There had to be some shady deals to uncover or something—some way to turn the other houses against him at the Summit.

  This Summit would be the first I’d attended with my parents, and from the way they’d described it to me, I could expect multiple days of elaborate balls and mealtime political chess—all of which were vital opportunities to sway the other houses to your side before the vote on the final day.

  We’d be traveling to the Summit tomorrow, so this would be my final day to stay incognito in House of Death territory as I tried to find some valuable information.

  Alcohol and a full belly were two things that could make someone comfortable enough to loosen their lips and share information, so I headed back to the bar I had just gotten my bourbon from. I’d originally intended to grab a table where I could sit alone, observe, and decide who to target first, but now I felt like sitting at the bar might make me look approachable.

  I was more likely to get information from someone who struck up a conversation with me first, and sitting alone at a table wouldn’t give off the right vibes for that.

  Snagging a wooden barstool at the end of the bar, I signaled to the bartender who’d just helped me a few minutes ago. Her hips swayed a bit more than they had for other customers as she made her way to me with a smirk and asked, "Miss me already, handsome?"

  Not in the slightest. But I'd absolutely make use of the opportunity that had just presented itself. Originally, I’d thought I'd have to get information from bar patrons. Now I was smacking myself for not going straight for the staff. They'd know all the gossip just from silently listening to guests who didn't think to guard their words.

  Turning on my charm, I flirted back, "How did you know? I couldn’t help but feel drawn back here—back to you. Would you mind grabbing me another bourbon on the rocks, love?" Ending my question with the smirk that always got me my way, I saw her blush and bend over much more than necessary for the bottle of alcohol, giving me quite a view.

  I was absolutely not into this Reaper chick, but I had to play the game. She wasn't ugly, by any means—I just preferred my women with a bit more meat on their bones than Reapers typically had. They were known for being tall and slender, and they had legs for days, which was a lot of other people's kryptonite. But not me.

  My mind drifted back to the Succubus, who definitely was my type. Not only did she have mouthwatering curves and a slender waist that I could imagine gripping onto as I bent her over, but she was also intriguing for a million other reasons. Reasons that I couldn’t completely let go of, despite my intention otherwise. She was full of fire, and that was one thing I liked even more than physical appearance. I wanted a partner who could challenge me and who was mentally stimulating—someone who didn't let me walk all over them. Maybe that made me sound like a piece of shit, but I just couldn't get into a woman who let me treat them however the hell I wanted.

  If a woman felt like I was treating her poorly, I wanted her to tell me that. To tell me to go fuck myself. There was nothing sexier than a woman with a backbone who demanded to be treated the way she deserved.

  Just like that Succubus had.

  Fuck, she had my full attention still, and I couldn't get her out of my mind.

  A thwack to the back of my head had me hissing in pain as I whirled on my seat to see who and what had attacked me.

  Curvy hips swayed as black heels clicked against the ground, leathery black wings now tucked to her back. Speak of the devil.

  She’d just hit me in the head with her damn wing as she walked by. The move made me chuckle, though it probably would have made most people furious. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I liked her feisty side.

  Wait...her wings were black. I had never seen a Succubus with black wings. How peculiar.

  Turning back in my stool to face the bartender, I tried to hide my grimace as I saw her looking disapprovingly at my interest in the Succubus. Her black eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer to me over the wooden bar top, putting her cleavage on display as she did.

  Batting her eyes at me she whispered, "You don't want that spoiled princess."

  My head cocked to the side as I mused, "Princess?" That's an odd nickname for a Succubus in Reaper territory.

  Her voice lowered as she glanced around, "You didn't hear it from me, but that's the princess of the House of Death. She's hybrid scum."

  My head jerked back at the mother lode of information that had just been slammed down in such few words. First of all, the Succubus was the princess of the house I was trying to get information on? Secondly, she was a hybrid?

  So, she was a Succubus and Reaper. That might be the information I needed to get the other houses to turn on the King of Death at the Summit. Since before my time, purity of bloodlines had been revered above all else. King Alaric having a hybrid next in line to take over his house would be a massive bomb to drop on the other houses.

  They would never allow her to potentially have influence over the rest of us.

  However, I did not share in the hatred the older generation felt for hybrids, and the words that left my lips next betrayed that. "Do not call her scum just because she is different. That makes you a bully of the lowest kind. Do you think she had any say in who her parents were?"

  The bartender instantly straightened at the venom that dripped from my words, straightening her blouse as she stood up fully and looked around uncomfortably. "My apologies. Here is your drink."

  She slid my glass of bourbon, over to me and hurried away to help another customer.

  Anger at the hybrid slurs had caused my heart rate to accelerate, and I struggled to calm myself. I knew my parents were strictly in the camp of those who thought only pure bloodlines should lead houses, but they were just holding to the old ways that said it was inconceivable to allow the hybrid population to increase.

  Although, I suppose “population” wasn’t the correct word because there were so few of them. Which only made it easier for people to treat them with a cruelty and disrespect they didn’t deserve.

  If I ever held the title of Supreme, I would ensure that hybrids were afforded the same amount of respect as everyone else. I felt for the princess. She had probably never spoken to this bartender in her life, yet she was being spoken ill of simply for being alive.

  My opinions on hybrids didn't change the fact that I needed to report back with information to help my house. I didn't necessarily like that it was the princess’ lineage that would be the deciding factor, but I had a duty to my people to position us to win the power we needed.

&nb
sp; Tossing a few coins onto the bar to more than cover my tab, I drained the liquor, coughing slightly from the burn it left as it trailed down my throat and into my chest. My blonde hair fell into my eyes with the cough, and I pushed it back in place, styled neatly on top.

  Placing the now-empty glass on the bar, I stood and decided to take the long way out of the restaurant in order to pass by the princess one more time. Walking in the direction she had gone earlier, I headed down a small corridor that led into the main dining room.

  Instantly, my eyes zeroed in on her in the corner with someone else. She must have felt my gaze because her eyes snapped to mine, and I watched her chest heave with an intake of breath. Quickly, her face morphed into a scowl, making me chuckle as I strode towards them.

  Something akin to jealousy poured through me as I tried to make out who was with her. Her companion faced away from me, obscured by the high booth at their back. Was she here with a Reaper man? Was she taken?

  Rage flooded my mind at the thought, and I had to force myself to take a deep breath as I took the final few steps to their table, prepared to face the facts.

  Finally, I saw a small, pixie-like woman with silver and lavender hair seated across from the princess, and my jealousy was instantly snuffed out, leaving me with my original goal for coming over here: I wanted her to know that I was well aware of who she was.

  "So, I hear that we'll likely be seeing each other tomorrow at the Summit, Princess. I'll let you buy me a drink to make up for tonight."

  Wow, why did that sound like such a douchebag comment? I mentally groaned at myself. So dumb.

  Her friend tried to hide a giggle with her hand as the princess' eyes glowed and her lips thinned in fury. Well, fuck. I’d definitely gotten her attention, but not in the way I’d meant to. I supposed my earlier comments weren’t helping the situation either.

  "Oh, is that so? Well, you can take your idea and shove it up your arrogant asshole. I think that sounds like a much better plan, don't you, Zurie?" she asked her friend sarcastically.

  There was that fire I was so drawn to—the one that was so clearly an innate part of her personality and so damn alluring.

  I knew I wouldn't likely be able to convince her of my actual, non-asshole personality, but maybe that was for the best. We weren't allies, and I needed to ensure my house won this Summit. Maybe her hating me would be beneficial. The last thing I needed was to actually develop feelings for the girl I was about to use as the weapon to destroy her house’s chances of securing the Supreme title once more.

  Tapping two fingers on their table in a goodbye, I smirked and said, "I'll be seeing you, Princess."

  Turning away and heading for the exit, I couldn't help but wonder if I could actually keep myself away from her at the Summit. There was just something about her. She’d either be my house's salvation if I used her to ruin her father, or she’d be the ruin of us if I let myself get close to her.

  That couldn’t happen.

  I hardened my mind to her and vowed to keep my distance, no matter what.

  Chapter Eight

  Ama

  My eyes fluttered open as I yawned, taking in the soft light streaming in from my windows. I was groggy and maybe a tad hungover from my night out with Zurie. My two cocktails had clearly made a point to remind me that I had no tolerance.

  What a fucking night.

  From the nervousness about my upcoming departure for the Summit to having an unfortunate run in with one of the hottest and most arrogant men I’d ever met…it felt like a complete clusterfuck. A surge of frustration ran through me as I remembered how easily the stranger had managed to pull authentic anger from me. On top of that, he had rudely plagued my dreams in the most scandalous ways. I mean…no one could really blame me, right? The man was undoubtedly an asshole, but damn...I found myself thinking again about how sexy it was.

  His body. Not his asshole. Not that I thought his asshole was ugly, because I wouldn't know that.

  I wasn't sure if it was because Finias had awoken my cobweb-laden vagina's desires, but something about that guy at the restaurant last night had made me want him in a way I shouldn't. He’d been abrasive and presumptuous, but he’d also challenged me, and I liked that. I liked it way too much. It was absurd that I was even giving such an insensitive prick any space in my thoughts, but he’d crept in like a fungus. A sexy fungus. Was that a thing?

  Groaning from the sensations my naughty dreams had left me with, I reached down with one hand and slipped it under my black silk sleep shorts. My body felt so wound up from the images that had followed me into reality. My dream had fed my sexual appetite and satisfied the hunger from my Succubus side, which was an interesting turn of events for me. I had never fed off of my own dreams before, but I wasn’t complaining since I had no other safe way of satisfying my desires.

  Because...I could fucking kill someone with my kiss. Yeah, I forgot that a bit too often than was probably safe for the people around me. I couldn't imagine how that would go with my mouth on a dude's dick. Would it turn to stone and fall off, or would I literally suck his soul out of his cock?

  For some reason I didn't think Finias or Mr. Arrogant Asshole would be willing to try it out to see. Rude. But whatever. I guess I understood why. Maybe I could convince Drayven? Not as a sex thing, obviously, but just to kill him. I mean…I guess there was also the benefit of actually being attracted to him.

  No. I would not think of him.

  Honestly, I really needed to get out of bed and get ready to leave…but a girl has needs, and I, for one, needed to get this pent-up energy out of me before I took the stupid trek to the Summit today with Drayven. He would drive me up a wall, and not in a good way. I needed some way to relax beforehand, and this would do the trick.

  I hoped.

  Closing my eyes once more, I recalled the scene from my dream. The man from the restaurant’s pale golden locks had fallen over white eyes that were littered with flecks of black, a tell-tale sign that he was from the House of Fallen. The house that Otto had told me not even to bother with. From his pronouncement that he'd see me at the Summit, I presumed he was someone of note.

  The dream came crashing back into my consciousness as I closed my eyes and ran my other hand along my body. My fingers against my wet heat were a poor imitation of what he had offered in my dream.

  Smirking up from between my legs in that infuriating way that just oozed confidence, he asked me, "What do you want, Princess?"

  I hated the term, but for some reason the way he said it in my dream made my navel pool with warmth. Dream me had been putty in his hands, begging for his touch.

  "Your mouth on me," I had breathlessly answered as I twined my fingers through his soft, blonde hair.

  The white parts of his eyes had seemed to vanish, darkening to be almost reminiscent of a Reaper’s as his mouth had descended on my aching core, giving me exactly what I wanted.

  While I was definitely still a virgin in all aspects—my one measly kiss with Drayven being my only real-life romantic experience—that didn't mean I hadn't pleasured myself while reading my spicy, detailed romance books. I knew what I was missing out on, and I could only imagine the immense satisfaction that came with the actual act. The envy that came from knowing I would never experience it was almost overwhelming.

  My fingers brushed the familiar bundle of nerves, and my back arched slightly. A soft moan nearly escaped my throat as I remembered the way the stranger had played my body in my dreams. His tongue had traced agonizing circles around my clit while sucking on the sensitive spot. He’d hummed appreciatively at my soft moans as he increased his pace and slipped a finger inside of me, curling it and drawing me closer to the edge.

  I had cried in frustration as his mouth left me for a moment, and he’d looked straight into my eyes with hunger pooling in his own and whispered, "Remember who made you feel this way, Princess. It was me. Only me." Before returning his mouth to my clit and ravaging me. How could I ever forget that it was
him?

  I increased the pace of my fingers on my clit, and a moan escaped me in reality as I felt a peak approaching, my pulse beating in my ears as my toes curled in anticipation.

  A rap of knuckles hit my bedroom door loudly, accompanied by a voice that was truly the bane of my existence, "Ama! We have to head out to the capital now. Get dressed."

  It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on my arousal.

  "You ruin everything!" I screamed at the Reaper, despite him not being in my room. Of course, I partly regretted it because I had no doubt he would want to know what he was ruining this time.

  I stared at my ceiling, removing my hand from my shorts as I considered just going back to bed. How Drayven had managed to know this exact moment would rob me of some semblance of happiness and pleasure was beyond me.

  He had to have some Ama happiness radar that honed in on exactly when to ruin my life. It's the only plausible answer.

  "Yeah, so you've told me before. I won't allow us to be tardy to the Summit because of you, though. I will leave without you if you aren't ready and out of your bedroom in ten minutes, Amare."

  Oh, he’d used my full name. Someone was cranky. Perhaps someone had ruined his jerking off session as well. I groaned, rolling into the bed and burying my face, because I did not want to think about Drayven jerking off. I mean, I did, but he was…never mind, just never fucking mind. I needed an orgasm, some way somehow, but that didn’t seem like it was going to be a possibility. Absolutely wonderful.

  Huffing out a sigh, I rolled out of bed and quickly padded into my closet, pulling out the outfit I had picked last night while packing my bags for the Summit. I had packed an array of clothing to fit multiple occasions, from business, to leisure, to the formal balls that were commonplace in the realm.

  Pulling on my black leather stretchy pants and the red silk blouse with three-quarter sleeves and a v-cut that teased the goods just enough without exposing too much, I looked at myself in my floor length mirror assessing my outfit choice. Tugging on my black ankle boots to complete the look, I nodded, happy with the outcome.