Deathbringer and desire, p.1
Deathbringer and Desire, page 1
DEATHBRINGER AND DESIRE
A.N. PAYTON
DEATHBRINGER AND DESIRE
By
A.N. Payton
Copyright © 2022 A.N. Payton
Edited by Theresa Cole.
Cover Design by MiblArt.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
To my sister, who kept telling me to make the story darker. I hope this is dark enough for you.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Hellfire and Honey
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
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Don’t miss the first novel of the Eternal Alliances series, HELLFIRE AND HONEY, and find more from A.N. Payton at www.anpayton.com
Princess Sal’s magic bought her people peace and security, but she’ll never be safe with the vampire king in her castle.
Centuries of war come to a bitter end when Princess Sal’s parents steal half the witch army and disappear. Sal is forced to surrender to the vampire king, Kadence, and bind her magic as part of their agreement. She will give anything to protect her people – anything except her heart.
When Kadence conquers the witch kingdom, he doesn’t expect their princess to be as delicious as wild honey. He can’t decide if he’d rather kiss or kill Sal, and his desire for her battles against his hatred of witches. Despite their attraction, Kadence can’t forget their war-torn history. He must decide if he can overcome his past to make way for a new future – one that might include Sal.
But when scouts locate Sal’s parents and discover they're marching a demon army toward the kingdom, Sal and Kadence must unite their people for a final battle. If they don’t, bloodthirsty demons will consume everyone they vowed to protect. Can they work together to save their people, or will hellfire destroy them all?
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Chapter One
Logically, I knew the dead couldn’t see. His eyes were gone anyway, scooped out by the embalmer’s shiny spoon and replaced with small stones to preserve the structural integrity of the face and to keep the eyelids closed. None of these things reassured me that the burning gaze across my back didn’t originate from my father’s body.
I avoided looking at the man in the ornate wooden and gold coffin. I had seen enough of him for the past twenty-two years. He didn’t deserve another second of my attention.
“Your Majesty, it might be better if I perform the final step of the preservation.” The young woman to my right shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her face held a red hue, and she bit her bottom lip a little too hard.
I settled my attention back to the arm in my hands. The blood was gone, drained in the first days after my father’s death, and the grey skin sagged on the bones. A thick swatch of herby wax under my nose cast a rosy scent over the death-filled room.
“I’ve got it, Hannah. Don’t worry about me.”
I dunked the limb into the metal bucket at my feet. The angle bent me forward, but I barely registered the discomfort. The hand in the bucket had caused me much more pain. Bubbles puckered at the dead flesh as the acid ate away at the arm. Vapors twisted to the surface, and I almost wished the wax wasn’t so competent at warding away the scent. The body at my back and his limbs in my hands did not quite convince me the man was truly dead. I wanted to smell his flesh burning.
“Queen Belle, it isn’t right for you to do this.” Hannah’s voice came out thin, stressed. In this place, she was used to being in charge, but her authority ended at my hem. “He was your father.”
“And his bones will be inscribed with spellwork and added to our catacombs. It’s our community’s responsibility to maintain our most treasured possessions. I’m simply doing my part.”
I hoped she could not hear the glee in my voice, but she hugged her arms tighter around her chest. A piece of me wanted to comfort her. She was my charge, after all, but I was too enamored by the arm in the acid.
I twisted the limb, and the flesh slipped from the bone like a bride’s dress on her wedding night. The brittle finger pieces fell to the bottom, encased in a layer of melted skin, and I dragged the humerus up. Two smaller bones clung on stubbornly. I whacked them against the side of the metal bucket, and they splashed back into the liquid.
“There!” I held up my trophy, and Hannah’s wide eyes peered at me beyond my father’s arm. The arm that would never raise at me again.
“That’s wonderful, Your Majesty.” Hannah lifted a thick towel beneath the dripping bone to catch the spilling acid. Her hands shook as I surrendered the limb to her embrace. I pretended not to see the deep discomfort splashed across her face. “Perhaps it’s time for you to attend the funeral. Your absence would be noticed, My Queen.”
A porcelain sink sat at the edge of the embalming room, and a pitcher of clean water perched on the side. I lathered soap into my hands, soaking up any lingering traces of acid, and rinsed them until the bubbles disappeared. The water trailed through my fingers and cooled some of the anger trapped in my chest. Anger that my father had died, and it had not been my hands that had done it.
My fingers curled into fists, and the pitcher banged against the side of the sink. The noise startled me, and the rest of the water poured into the basin.
“Sorry, Hannah. I spilled the water.”
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. I’ll have my assistant fetch more.”
I nodded and wiped my damp palms across the fabric of my cotton dress. The rich cream and golden fabric appeared out of place in the dark morgue. It didn’t match the stretching tables, the plethora of embalming equipment, or Hannah's black outfit. It did match my father’s coffin well—another bend of my knee toward his superiority, and it would be the last.
“Well, what’s next?” I took in the stacks of bare bones waiting for the spellcasters to inscribe their delicate symbols and lock our knowledge of magic into the ancient catacombs under the castle. Beside the naked bones sat a small pile of fleshy limbs ready to be stripped and bleached. One large, masculine leg stood out among the rest.
“Can I do his leg now?” I knew the joy seeped into my voice, but I caught it too late.
Hannah’s face twisted, and she failed to hide her disgust.
“Your Majesty, I’d rather you did n—”
The door swished open behind me, spilling a chilled wind into the small chamber. More torchlight cascaded from the hall and set a glow across my father’s face that he didn’t deserve.
“There you are.” Matias stepped through the arched doorway and half bowed to me. I returned the gesture, and he rose, towering almost six inches above my five-foot-seven frame. “They’ve been waiting for you.”
Hannah’s shoulders sagged in relief.
“I told them to begin the ceremonies without me.” I glanced at my father’s body again and wished my gaze could burn the man. I’d have to settle for worms eating his body. “I needed to see Da one more time.”
Matias’s footsteps echoed as he came to stand beside me. He wrapped one arm across my shoulders, and I leaned into his side. We both studied the corpse, alone amongst crisp white silk, a clean military uniform hiding the two harvested limbs.
“The King will be missed.” Matias bowed his head in respect. My neck locked, my head refusing to bend an inch.
“He can rest now,” I said. In Hell, I hope.
“Yes, he can.” Matias squeezed me for a moment, then this arm fell to his side. He looped his hands in front of him in a proper stance. “May I escort you to the funeral, My Queen?”
A thick wave of dread dripped through my chest, but I forced myself to smile. I wrapped one hand around Matias’s elbow, and he looked back to nod at Hannah.
“Thank you, miss, for distracting our Queen from her grief. The council will send a gift with our gratitude.”
Hannah ducked into a low bow. “I must thank you, sir. And my condolences to the Queen for her loss.”
The door latche d shut behind us. Our footsteps echoed across the stone floors. Rich sandstone mined from beaches far to the west built the castle walls. Pockets of human kingdoms peppered that area, and we traded our cattle, grain crops, and lumber for their warm stones and fresh seafood. But this deep underground, the castle lost the natural light, and the orange glow of the stones turned flat and dark.
“King Alexander was concerned about your absence,” Matias said.
Through the layers of anger and dread, a fresh spark ignited. It grew to a flickering flame, burning away some of the burden I carried. I had told Alex this morning that I had no intention of attending the full day of funeral ceremonies for my father, the retired king. That he still asked about me made my false smile turn real. I longed to feel his hand in mine, his skin against me.
“He knew where I was,” I said.
“He was more concerned about your state of being, I think. Losing a parent makes one’s heart heavy.”
My heart was lighter than ever, but I couldn’t tell Matias that. My father’s rule had united the people of Henosia. They loved him and would rebel against anyone that ended their illusion—even their queen.
“Then we must find the king and reassure him of my well-being,” I said.
Matias led me through the twisting maze of stone tunnels, filling me in about the morning ceremonies I’d already missed. The hymns had been sung. The torches representing the king’s eternal life had been lit. Alex had given a grand eulogy and sung praises for my father’s rule. As we neared the upper levels, the deep groan of a mourning choir, low and melancholy, vibrated through the air.
I schooled my face into an appropriate expression of grief. I’m terribly sad my father has died. Really, I am.
People crowded the castle’s main hall. Shoulder to shoulder, witches, vampires, and humans crammed together into any available crevice of space. Muddy shoes hid the flat, polished floors. Black cloths draped across the walls, covering multitudes of colorful paintings. The saltiness of sweating bodies crept through the spent wax under my nose, and I wiped the mixture with the back of my hand. Hints of rose petals speckled my skin like creeping death on an unsuspecting victim.
Matias’s top lip curled.
“There’s so many civilians here.” An edge of a growl lined his voice.
“These are our people.” I smiled somberly as the crowd noticed our presence and began to part for us. “They loved my father.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Matias said.
A murmur broke through the gathering as we passed. The narrow space spanned barely wide enough for Matias and me to squeeze by. People, eyes filled with tears or faces turned almost purple from days of grief, reached for me. I grabbed their hands, their searching fingers, and offered the little comfort I could.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” one dark-skinned woman choked out before tears broke her voice.
I wrapped my hand around hers and drew it to my heart.
“No,” I whispered, “I am sorry for what you have lost.”
Her hand slipped, and she lowered her face, clutching for a young child at her feet.
Matias’s light touch on my elbow drew me away.
“The king is waiting,” he said softly.
The crowd stretched outside the doors, where a grand dais had been constructed for the funeral. Stairs crisscrossed the wooden structure and ended at a long row of tables at the very top. The council sat there, a group of three men and two women. One council chair remained empty, waiting for Matias to find his seat. Two thrones nestled between the council chairs. Composed of deep mahogany and inlaid with thousands of coins’ worth of gems, the thrones were testaments of our wealth. Until recently, they had been anchors in my personal prison.
The council noticed the change in the crowd and looked our way. Their eyes locked on me, and relief stretched across their faces. Veronica Harpsby, a light-skinned redhead, gently tapped Alex on the hand and pointed at us.
King Alexander Galloway shifted his attention to me, and the world stopped under my feet. His sun-kissed skin highlighted high cheekbones and a strong, square jaw. Dark hair twisted over his ears and threatened to cover his smokey eyes. As though time held still just for us, he smiled, and the light wound across his face and ignited a smoldering glow in his eyes. My heart raced, and a swell of longing and need bubbled in my core. Alex flipped his hand on the arm of his throne and flicked his fingers in a “come here” motion. My real smile felt foreign on my face. I climbed halfway up the stairs before realizing I’d dropped Matias’s arm, and he trailed quietly behind me.
I paused before the next step.
“I’m sorry, Matias. I didn’t realize I’d left you behind.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it, My Queen. It may be hard to believe, but I was once young and in love. Nothing else in the world exists.”
I smothered a laugh, but in a way, he was right. The only thing I wanted now was to be beside Alex.
I rounded the dais and sank into the throne at Alex’s side—the throne my father had once occupied. Alex smiled a row of white teeth wide enough to hint at the sharp fangs in the front and held his hand out. The rough edges of the day smoothed at his touch, and we fit together like a puzzle.
Councilwoman Harpsby leaned toward me.
“Welcome back, My Queen. My condolences for your loss.”
I tipped my head at her and turned back to the choir as the final notes rang through the cemetery field. The royal gravesite, reserved for the ruling class, lined the eastern edge of the castle grounds. Sweeping headstones reached upward, much too large and much too bold. Although in death I was unlikely to care, I secretly hoped my own grave would be simpler and more practical. Perhaps even a pyre to send me to the sky in flames.
A fresh hole etched into the ground beside a pile of rich dirt. As the choir's tones faded, a trumpet tune shouted at the melancholy crowd. I stammered to my feet, as did the rest of the council.
I held my breath. Despite the amount of people, silence stretched through the field. We arched our necks, looking for the first hint of the coffin.
Four pole bearers carried my father’s rectangular tomb—two witches, one vampire, and one human. Our entire population recognized the loss of their previous ruler. They wore all black, in mourning, a uniformed crew carrying my final family member to the grave.
The coffin reached the center of the dais and paused. One of the pole bearers passed his duty to another and circled to the front of the casket.
“My Queen.” He bowed low. “And My King. We humbly seek permission to lay to rest Tarik Earnest Decan Cresswell, former King of Henosia, fourth in his line, Keeper of the Three Kingdoms, Master of the Order of Spellcasters.”
Striker of Children, though I didn’t dare say the words out loud.
Alex squeezed my hand.
“You may lay the king to rest,” Alex said. If it surprised the crowd to hear him speak instead of me, they didn’t show it. Perhaps they assumed I was too emotional to order my own father into the ground. “May his rule be eternal!”
“Eternal rule!” our people echoed as the coffin resumed its trek. “Eternal rule!”
They reached the edge of the pit, and four others jumped into the hole. Together, the four on top lowered the coffin into the grave, and the ones inside received it. The hole stretched wider than it needed to be. Nobody would be trapped inside the pit except the dead king. Once the golden coffin settled, the four clambered out of the grave. All eight bowed at us again, then dispensed into the rest of the crowd.
Alex spoke beside me, and I smothered a flinch of surprise.
“The Queen has reserved a special flower to lay with her father,” he said.
